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AUTHOR:
HOBBES, THOMAS
TITLE:
PHILOSOPHY OF
HOBBES IN EXTRACTS
PLACE:
MINNEAPOLIS
DA TE :
1903
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Hobbes, Thomas, 1588-1679.
The philosophy of Hobbes in extracts and notes col-^
lated from his writings ; selected and arranged bv Fred-
erick J. E. Woodbridge ... Minneapolis, The H. W. Wil-
son company, 1903.
XXX vi p.. 1 1., 391 p. front, (port.) pi. 21"".
"List of the writings of Thomas Hobbes": p. ixxxvi-xxxvL
Restrictions on Use:
i.JYoodbridge, Frederick James Eugene, 1867-.n/f;ed.
(Continued on next oar^)
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GIVEN BY
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THE
PHILOSOPHY OF HOBBES
IN
EXTRACTS AND NOTES
COLLATED FROM HIS WRITINGS
SELECTED AND ARRANGED
BY
FREDERICK J. E. WOODBRIDGE
PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY
MINNEAPOLIS
THE H. W. WILSON COMPANY
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GIFT OF
WENDELL T. GUSH
Copyright, 1903
by
The H. W. Wilson Company
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PREFACE
J^ The text of the following selections from the writ-
^ ings of Thomas Hobbes is that of the Molesworth edi-
tion, London, 1841. The portrait of Hobbes is repro-
duced from the same edition, and the title-page to the
Leviathan is reproduced from a copy of the first edition
in the possession of the Library of the University of
Minnesota. Aubrey's Life of Hobbes has been reprint-
ed without change, except for the omission of several
notes, from the London edition, 1813, of his Lives of
Eminent Men.
The book has originated in my conviction of the
great historical importance of Hobbes as a thinker on
philosophical and psychological problems, and in my
appreciation of the value of his work in stimulating re-
flection. The plan of the book has been determined
by my experience in reading the works of philosoph-
ers with classes in the history of philosophy. I have
found critical introductions to be more of an evil than
a good, because they are naturally read first, and thus
make an immediate and uncolored impression by the
author impossible. The same is true of notes added
as a commentary to the text. I have therefore omitted
both the introduction and notes customary in books of
this kind. In their place, I have collated passages from
the writings of Hobbes, which serve to supplement and
clarify the text. By this means the book has been
made to present practically all that Hobbes has con-
tributed to the main questions of philosophy and
psychology. I have omitted in the selections the de-
>
IV
PREFACE
tails of his mathematical, physical, and political theo-
ries. The list of his writings, which follows Aubrey's
account of his life, shows the extent and variety of his
literary activity. For critical discussions of Hobbes.
the reader is referred to G. C. Robertson's Hobbes and
his article on Hobfefis, in the Encyclopaedia Brita Ttmca,
and toTKe "bibliography in E. H. Sneath's Ethics of
Hobbes.
I wish to express here my thanks to Professor Nor-
man Wilde of the University of Minnesota for the many
valuable suggestions he made while the book was in
preparation, and to Miss Ethel C. Brill for the help she
has given me in reading the proof and in indexing the
■elections from the Elemetits of Philosophy.
Frederick J. E. Woodbridge.
Columbia University. January. 1903.
It
/
-J
CONTENTS
Preface HI
Life of Thomas Hobbes by John Aubrey ... vii
List of the Writings of Thomas Hobbes .... xxxv
Selections from the Elements of Philosophy concerning
-^ Body 1-76
Chapter L Of Philosophy I
U. Of Names 13
HL Of Propositions 26
IV. Of Syllogism 36
V. Of Erring, Falsity, and Captions ... 39
VL Ot Method 46
Selections from Leviathan^ 77-379
The Epistle Dedicatory 79
The Introduction 81
Chapter I. Of Sense 84
I. Supplement from Elements of Philosophy,
Chapter XXV ..... 86
II. Supplement from Human Nature, Chap-
ter II, 95
II. Of Imagination loi
III. Of the Consequence or Train of Imaginations 113
IV. Of Speech 120
V. Of Reason and Science 13*
VI. Of the Interior Beginnings of Voluntary Mo-
tions, commonly called the Passions; and
the Speeches by which they are expressed 143
Suppl ement from Liberty and Necessity . 165
VII. Of thellnds, or Resolutions of Discourse 172
VIII. Of the Virtues commonly called Intellectual;
and their contrary Defects . . .178
IX. Of the Several Subjects of Knowledge . 193
X. Of Power, Worth, Dignity, Honour, and Worth-
iness 196
XI. Of the DiflFerence of Manners ... 208
XII. Of Religion 217
XIII. Of the Natural Condition of Mankind as con-
cerning their Felicity and Misery . . 232
^
vl
COXTKNTS
P aralle l Chapter frnm Philosophical Rudim^^s.
Qiapter 1 :• 239
XIV. Of the First and Second Natural Laws, and of
Contract 251
Parallel r\^^]^x U^^"^ Phnngnphiral RiiHii^^n^s.
Chapter II 265
XV. Of other Laws of Nature .278
PRiallfl^^'^r^^^ ^'•""^ Philncophiral R ii^^JnK"^?!
Chapter III 294
XVI. Of Persons, Authors, and Things Personated 313
XVII. Of the Causes, Generation, and Definition of a
Commonwealth ..... 319
XVIII. Of the Rights of Sovereigns by Institution . 325
XXXI. Of the Kindom of God by Nature . . 342
XLIII. Of what is Necessary for a Man's Reception
into the Kingdom of Heaven . . . 356
A Review and Conclusion 368
Index 380
1
LIFE OF MR. THOMAS HOBBES
OF MALMSBURIE.
BY
JOHN AUBREY.
LECTORI.
'Tis religion to performe the will of the dead. I
therefore dischardge my promise, performing the last of-
fice to my hon'rd friend Mr. T. H. Since nobody knew
so many particulars of his life as myselfe, he desired
that if I survived him, it should be handed to posterity by
my hands, w'ch I declare and avow to doe ingenuously
and impartially. One sayes that when a learned man
dyes, a great deal of learning dyes with him. He was
numen ingenii, never dry. Amongst innumerable ob-
servations which deserved to be sett downe, these few
that have not escaped my memory, I humbly offer to the
present age and posterity, tanquam tabulam naufragii;
as plankes and lighter things swimme, and are preserved,
whereas the more weighty sinke and are lost. And as
with the light after sun-sett, at which time it is clear, by
and by comes the crepuscule, then totall darkness; in
like manner is it with matters of antiquitie. Men thinke,
because everybody remembers a memorable accident
shortly after it is done, 'twill never be forgotten, w'ch for
want of entering, at last is drowned in oblivion. This
reflection has been a hint, that by my meanes many an-
tiquities have been rescued from oblivion and preserved,
I myselfe now inclining to be ancient.
^
▼HI
LECTORI
For that I am so minute, I declare I never intended it,
but setting downe in my rude draught every thing, with
'purpose, upon review, to retrench what was superfluous
and triviall, I shewed it to some friends of mine (who
also were of Mr. Hobbes's acquaintance) whose judg-
ments I much value; who gave their opinion, and *twas
clearly their judgement, to let all stand; for though to
some at present it might appeare too triviall ; yet here-
after 'twould not be slighted, but passe for antiquity.
And besides I have precedents of reverend writers to
plead, who have in some lives veiled things as triviall,
nay, the sayings and actions of good woemen. I am also
to beg pardon of the Reader, for a long digression, viz.
Malmesbury and Gorambery, but this also was advised,
as the only way to preserve them. I hope its novelty and
pleasantness will make compensation for its length.
Yours,
' * J. A.
It was usual with the writers of the lives of the an-
cient philosophers, in the first place, to speake of their
lineage ; and they tell us that in processe of time severall
illustrious families accounted it their glory to be derived
from such or such a Sapiens. Why now should that
method be omitted in this Historiola of our Malmesbury
Philosopher, who though but of plebeian extraction, his
renowne has and will give brightnesse to his name and
familie, which hereafter may arise and flourish in riches,
and may justly take it an honour to be of kin to this
worthy person, so famous for his learning, both at home
and abroad.
Thomas Hobbes, whose life I write, was second son
of Mr. Thomas Hobbes, vicar of Charlton and Westport,
juxta Malmesbury. — Thomas, the father, was one of the
LIFE OF HOBBES
IX
ignorant Sr. Johns of Q. Elizabeth's time, could only read
the prayers of the church, and the homilies ; and valued
not learning, as not knowing the sweetness of it. He
had an elder brother whose name was Francis, a wealthy
man, and alderman of the borough; by profession a
glover, which is a great trade here, and in times past
much greater. Having no child, he contributed much to,
or rather altogether maintained, his nephew Thomas, at
Magdalen-hall, in Oxon ; and when he dyed gave him
agellnm, a pasture, called Gasten-ground, lying neer to
the horse- faire, worth i6 or i8 poundes per annum; the
rest of his landes he gave to his nephew Edmund.
Thomas, the vicar of Westport, maried . . .
Middleton, of Brackenborough, (of a yeomanly family)
by whom he had two sonnes, and one daughter. Ed-
mund, his eldest, was bred up to his uncle's profession of
a glover. Edmund was about two yeares elder than his
brother Thomas (philosopher), whose life I now write,
and something resembled him in face, but fell much short
of him in his intellect, though he was a good plain.under-
standing countryman. He had been bred at schoole with
his brother ; could have made theme, and verse, and un-
derstood a little Greek to his dyeing day. He dyed
about 13 yeares since, aetat. circiter 80.
This Edmund had only one son named Francis, and
two daughters maried to countrymen (renters) in the
neighbourhood. Francis pretty well resembled his uncle
Thomas, especially about the eie ; and probably had he
had a good education might have been ingeniose ; but he
drowned his witt in ale. He was left by his father and
uncle Thomas, Solib. or better per annum, but he was an
ill husband. He dyed about two yeares after his father,
and left five children.
Westport is the parish without .the west-gate, w ch is
X UFE OF HOBBES
now demolished; which gate stood on the neck of land
that joines Malmesbury to Westport. Here was, before
the late warres, a very pretty church, consisting of a nave
and aisles, which took up the whole area, dedicated to St.
Mary; and a fair spire-steeple, with five tuneable bells,
which, when the towne was taken (about 1644) by Sir
W. Waller, were melted (converted into ordinance), and
the church pulled downe to the ground, that the enemie
might not shelter themselves against the garrison. The
steeple was higher than that now standing in the borough,
which much adorned the prospect. The windowes were
well painted, and in them were inscriptions that declared
much antiquitie ; now is here rebuilt a church like a stable.
Thomas Hobbes, Malmesburiensis Philosophus, was
borne at his father's house in Westport, being that ex-
treme house that pointes into, or faces the horse-fayre;
the farthest house on the left hand as you goe to Tedbury,
leaving the church on the right. To prevent mistakes,
and that hereafter may rise no doubt what house was
famous for this famous man's birth; I doe here testifie
that in April, 1659, his brother Edmund went with me
into this house, and into the chamber where he was borne.
Now things begin to be antiquated, and I have heard
some guesse it might be at the house where his brother
Edmund Hved and dyed; but this is so, as I here deliver
it. This house was given by Thomas, the vicar, to
his daughter . . . whose daughter or grand-daughter
possessed it, when I was there. It is a firme house,
stone-built, and tiled, of one roome, with a buttery (or the
like) below, and two chambers above. It was the inner-
most where he first drew breath.
The day of his birth was April the fifth, A'o. D'ni.
1588, on a Fry day morning, w'ch that year was Good
Fryday. His mother fell in labour with him upon the
LIFE OF HOBBES
XI
K'
fright of the invasion of the Spaniards ; he told me him-
self between the hours of four and six ; but by rectifica-
tion his nativity is found to be at . . . His horoscope
is 8 having in it a satellitium of 5 of the 7 planets.
It is a maxime in astrology that a native that hath a
satellitium in his ascendent proves more eminent in his
life than ordinary.
At four yeares old he went to schoole in Westport
church, till eight; at that time he could read well, and
number four figures. Afterwards he went to schoole to
Malmesbury, to Mr. Evans, the minister of the towne,
and afterwards to Mr. Robert Latimer, a young man of
about nineteen or twenty, newly come from the Univer-
sity, who then kept a private schoole in Westport, where
the broad place is, next door north from the smyth's shop,
opposite to the Three Cuppes, (as I take it.) He was a
batchelor and delighted in his scholar, T. H.'s company,
and used to instruct him, and two or three ingeniose
youths more, in the evening till nine o'clock. Here T. H.
so well profited in his learning, that at fourteen years of
age, he went away a good school-scholar to Magdalen-
hall', in Oxford. It is not to be forgotten, that before
he went to the University, he had turned Euripidis Medea
out of Greeke into Latin lambiques, which he presented
to his master. Mr. H. told me that he would fain have
had them, to have seen how he did grow in . . . ;
twentv odde yeares agoe I searcht all Mr. Latimer's pa-
pers, but could not find them ; the good houswives had
sacrificed them, the oven (pies) had devoured them. I
have heard that when he was a boy he was playsome
enough, but withall he had then a contemplative melan-
cholinesse ; he would gett him into a corner, and learn
his lesson by heart presently. His haire was black, and
the boys, his schoolfellows, were wont to call him Crowe.
\
XI 1
LIFE OF HOBBES
UFE OF HOBBES
xni
This Mr. Latimer was a good Grecian, and the first that
came into our parts since the Reformation. He was af-
terwards minister of Malmesbury, and from thence pre-
ferred to a better Hving of lool. per ann. or more, at
Leigh-de-la-mere within this hundred.
At Oxford he used, in the summer time especially, to
rise very early in the morning, and would tye the leaden-
counters (w'ch they used in those dayes at Christmas at
post and payre) with strings, which he did draw through
birdlime, and bayte them with parings of cheese, and the
jack-da wes would spye them a vast distance up in the
aire, as far as Osney-abbey, and strike at the bayte,
and so be ... in the string, w'ch the wayte of the
counter would make cling about their wings. He did
not much care for logick, yet he learned it, and thought
himself a good disputant. He tooke great delight there
to go to the book-binders' and stationers* shops, and lye
gaping on mappes, of which he takes notice in his life
written by himself, in verse:
Ergo ad amoena magis me verto, librosque revolvo,
Quos prius edoctus, non bene doctus eram.
Pascebamque animum chartis imitantibus orbem,
Telluris faciem, et sidera picta videns,
Gaudebam soli comes ire, et cernere cunctis
Terricolis justos qua facit arte dies.
After he had taken his Batchelor of Arts' degree, the
then Principall of Magdalen-hall recommended him to
his young lord when he left Oxon, who did believe that
he should profitt more in his learning, if he had a scholar
of his owne age to wayte on him, than if he had the in-
formation of a grave doctor ; he was his lordship's page,
and rode a hunting and hawking with him, and kept his
privy-purse. By this way of life he had almost forgott
his Latin. He then bought him bookes of an Amsterdam
print, that he might carry in his pocket (particularly
Caesar's Commentaries) w'ch he did read in the lobbey,
or ante-chamber, whilst his lord was making his visits.
The Lord Chancellor Bacon loved to converse with
him. He assisted his Lordship in translating severall of
his essayes into Latin, one I well remember is that. Of the
Greatness of Cities : the rest I have forgott. His Lordship
was a very contemplative person, and was wont to con-
template in his delicious walkes at Gorambery, and dic-
tate to Mr. Bushell, or some other of his gentlemen, that
attended him with ink and paper ready to sett downe
presently his thoughts. His Lordship would often say
that he better liked Mr. Hobbes's taking his thoughts,
than any of the others, because he understood what he
wrote which the others not understanding, my Lord
would many times have a hard task to make sense of what
they writt.
It is to be remembered that about these times, Mr.
T. H. was much addicted to musique, and practised on
the bass-viol.
This summer [1634] Mr. T. H. came into his native
country to visitt his friends, and amongst others he canie
to see his old schoolmaster, Mr. Rob. Latimer, at Leigh-
de-la-mere, when I was then a little youth at school, m
the church, newly entered into my grammar by him.
Here was the first place and time that ever I had the
honour to see this worthy, learned man, who was then
pleased to take notice of me, and the next day came and
visited my relations. He was a proper man, briske and
in very good equipage ; his haire was then quite black.
He stayed at Malmesbury, and in the neighbourhood, a
weeke or better ; 'twas the last time that ever he was in
Wiltshire. , , , .
He was forty yeares old before he looked on geom-
'
i'
XIV
LIFE OF HOBBES
LIFE OF HOBBES
XV
etry, w'ch happened accidentally; being in a gentleman's
library in . . . Euclid's Elements lay open, and it
was the 47 Prop. Lib. I. So he reads the proposition,
*'By G — ," says he, "this is impossible !" So he reads the
demonstration of it, w'ch referred him back to another,
w'ch he also read, et sic deinceps, that at last he was
demonstratively convinced of that truth. This made
him in love with geometry. I have heard Sr. Jonas
Moore (and others) say that 'twas a great pity he had
not begun the study of the mathem. sooner; for such a
working head and curious witt would have made gredt
advancement in it. Had he done so, he would not have
layn so open to his learned mathematicall antagonists.
But one may say of him, as one sayes of Jos. Scaliger,
that where he erres, he erres so ingeniosely, that one had
rather erre with him, than hitt the marke with Clavius.
I have heard Mr. Hobbes say, that he was wont to draw
lines on his thigh, and on the sheetes abed, as also mul-
tiply and divide. He would often complain, that algebra
(though of great use) was too much admired, and so fol-
lowed after that it made men not contemplate and con-
sider so much the nature and power of lines, w'ch was a
great hinderance to the growth of geometrie; for that
though algebra did rarely well and quickly, and easily in
right lines, yet 'twould not bite in solid geometrie.
After he began to reflect on the interest of the King
of England, as touching his affaires between him and the
Parliament, for ten yeares together his thoughts were
much, or almost altogether unhinged from the mathe-
matiques; but chiefly intent on his "De Give", and after
that on his "Leviathan", w'ch was a great putt-back to
his mathematicall improvement: quod N. B. for in ten
yeares' (or better) discontinuance of that study (espe-
cially) one's malhcmatiques will become very rustv.
"When the Parliament sate that began in April, 1640,
and was dissolved in May following, and in which many
pointes of the regall power, which were necessary for the
peace of the kingdome and safety of his Majestie's per-
son, were disputed and denied, Mr. Hobbes wrote a little
treatise in English , wherein he did sett forth and demon -
|trat£^hat the sayd power and rights were mseparaply
annexed trT^fC "^v'rrpi>nty. which soye'r^gtlTy llwv iM
len deny to be m the Kmg ; but it seems understood
n
ImS^rstand, th*
this treatise, though not printed, many gentlemen had
copies, which occasioned much talk of the author; and
had not his Majestic dissolved the Parliament, it had
brought him in danger of his life."*
Mem. he told me that Bp. Manwaring (of St.
David's) preached his doctrine; for which, among others,
he was sent prisoner to the Tower. Then thought Mr.
Hobbes, it is time now for me to shift for myselfe, and
so went into France, and resided at Paris. As I re-
member, there were others likewise did preach his doc-
trine. This little MS. treatise became his book "De
Give", and at last grew to be so formidable, and . . .
Leviathan ; the manner of writing of which booke was
thus. He walked much and contemplated, and he had in
the head of his cane a pen and ink-home, carried always
a note-booke in his pocket, and as soon as a thought
darted, he presently entered it into his booke, or otherwise
might have lost it. He had drawne the designe of the
booke into chapters, &c. he knew whereabout it would
come in. Thus that booke was made.
"He wrote and published the Leviathan far from the
*Mr Hobbes Considered, p. 4 printed 1662, since reprinted.
1680, by W. Crooke. [The subsequent quotations by Aubrey are
from the same source. 1
XVI
LIFE OF HOBBES
LIFE OF HOBBES
xvu
intention either of disadvantage to his Majestic, or to
flatter Oliver (who was not made Protector till three or
four yeares after) on purpose to facilitate his returne;
for there is scarce a page in it that he does not upraid
him.
** Twas written in the behalfe of the faithfull sub-
jects of his Majestic, that had taken his part in the war,
or otherwise done their utmost endeavour to defend his
Majestie's right and person against the rebells : whereby,
having no other meanes of protection, nor (for the most
part) of subsistence, were forced to compound with your
masters, and to promise obedience for the saving of their
Hves and fortunes, which in his booke he hath affirmed,
they might lawfully doe, and consequently not bear arms
against the victors. They had done their utmost en-
deavour to performe their obligation to the King, had
done all they could be obliged unto; and were conse-
quently at liberty to seeke the safety of their lives and
livelihood wheresoever, and without treachery.
"His Majestic was displeased with him (at Paris) for
a while, but not very long, by means of some complayn-
ing of, and misconstruing his writing. But his Majestic
had a good opinion of him, and sayd openly, that he
thought Mr. Hobbes never meant him hurt.
"Before his booke 'Dc Homine' came forth, nothing
of the optiques writt intelligibly. As for the Optiques
of Vitellio, and sevcrall others, he accounts them rather
geometry than optiques.
"So also of all other arts ; not every one that brings
from beyond seas a new gin, or other janty devise,
is therefore a philosopher. For if you reckon that way,
not only apothecaries and gardeners, but many other
sorts of workmen will put in for, and get the prize.
"Then, when I see the gentlemen of Gresham Colleg^e
I
^
apply themselves to the doctrine of motion (as Mr.
Hobbes has done, and will be ready to helpe them in it,
if they please, and so long as they use him civilly), I will
looke to know some causes of naturall events from them,
and their register, and not before ; for nature does noth-
ing but by motion.
"The reason given by him, why the drop of glass so
much wondered at, shivers into so many pieces, by break-
ing only one small part of it, is approved for probable,
and registered in their colledge : but he has no reason to
take it for a favour, because hereafter the invention may
be taken, by that means, not for his, but theirs.
"As for his self-praise, they can have very little skill
in morality, who cannot see the justice of commending a
man's selfe, as well as of anything else, in his own de-
fence.
"Then for his morosity and peevishnesse, with which
some asperse him, all that know him familiarly, know the
contrary. It is true, that when vain and ignorant young
scholars, unknown to him before, come to him on purpose
to argue with him, and fall into indiscrete and uncivill
expressions, and he then appeare not well contented, it
was not his morosity, but their vanity, which should be
blamed."
Anno 1650 or 1651, he returned into England and
lived most part in London, in Fetter-lane, where he writ,
or finished his booke "De Corpore", which came out
Anno ... in Latin, and then in English, and writt
his lessons against the Savilian Professors at Oxon.
About this time (1655 or 1656) he settled the piece of
land, given to him by his uncle, upon his nephew Francis
for life, the remainder to his nephew's eldest son, Thomas
Hobbes ; he also not long after discharged a mortgage of
two hundred pounds, besides the interest thereof, with
XVlll
LIFE OF HOBBES
which his nephew Francis (a careless husband) had in-
cumbered his estate.
He was much in London till the restauration of his
Majesty, having here convenience not only of bookes,
but of learned conversation, as Mr. J. Selden, Dr. Wm.
Harvey, J. Vaughan, &c. whereof anon in the catalogue
of his acquaintance. I have heard him say, that in my
Lord's house, in Derbyshire, there was a good library,
and bookes enough for him, and his Lordship stored the
library with what bookes he thought fitt to be bought ;
but he savd, the want of good conversation was a very
great inconvenience, and that though he conceived he
could order his thinking as well perhaps as another, yet
he found a great defect: methinkes in the country, in
long time, for want of good conversation, one's under-
standing and invention grow mouldy.
Amongst other of his acquaintance, I must not forget
our common friend, Mr. Samuel Cowper, the prince of
limners of this last age, who drew his picture as like as
art could afford, and one of the best pieces that ever he
did ; which his Majesty, at his returne, bought of him,
and conserves as one of his greatest rarities in his closet,
at Whitehall.
The winter-time of 1659 he spent in Derbyshire; m
March following was the dawning of the coming in of
our gracious sovereign, and in April the Aurora. It
happened about two or three dayes after his Majesty's
happy returne, that as he was passing in his coach
through the Strand, Mr. Hobbes was standing at Little
Salisbury-house gate, (where his Lord then lived,) the
King espied him, putt off his hatt very kindly to him,
and asked him how he did. About a week after he had
oral conference with his Majesty and Mr. S. Cowper,
v'here, as he sat for his picture, he was diverted by Mr.
LIFE OF HOBBES
XIX
Hobbes's pleasant discourse. Here his Majesty's favours
were redintegrated to him, and order was given that he
should have free accesse to his Majesty, who was always
much delighted in his witt and smart repartees. The
witts at Court were wont to bayte him; but he would
make his part good, and feared none of them. The King
would call him the Beare : Here comes th€ Beare to he
bayted. He was marvellous happy and ready in his re-
plies, and that without rancour, (except provoked) ; but
now I speake of his readiness in replies as to witt and
drollery. He would say, that he did not care to g^ve,
neither was he adroit at, a present answer to a serious
quaere ; he had as lieve they should have expected an ex-
temporary solution to an arithmetical! probleme, for he
turned, and winded, and compounded in philosophy,
politiques, &c. as if he had been at mathematical! worke ;
he always avoided, as much as he could, to conclude
hastily.
In 1659, and some yeares before, his lord was at Lit-
tle Salisbury-house (now turned into the Middle-Ex-
change), where he wrote, among other things, a poeme
in Latin hexameter and pentameter, on the Encroach-
ment of the Clergie (both Roman and Reformed) on the
Civil Power. I remember I saw there five hundred
verses and more. He did read Cluverius's Historia Uni-
versalis, and made up his poeme from thence. His place
of meditation was then in the portico in the garden. He
sayd that he sometimes would sett his thoughts upon re-
searching and contemplating, always with this proviso,
that he very much and deeply considered one thing at a
time, — sc. a weeke or sometimes a fortnight. There was
a report (and surely true) that in Parliament, not long
after the King was settled, some of the Bishops made a
motion, to have the good old gentleman burned for a
XX
LIFE OF HOBBES
LIFE OF HOBBES
XXI
heretique ; which he hearing, feared that his papers might
be searched by their order, and he told me that he had
burned part of them. I have received word from his
amanuensis and executor, that he remembers there were
such verses, for he wrote them out, but knowes not what
became of them, unless he presented them to Judge
Vaughan, or burned them, as I did seeme to intimate.
(But I understand since by W. Crooke, that he can re-
trieve a great many of them.)
From 1660, till the time he last went into Derbyshire,
he spent most part of his time in London, at his Lord's,
viz. at Little Salisbury-house, then Queen-street, lastly
Newport-house ; following his contemplation and study.
He contemplated and invented in the morning, but penned
in the afternoon.
In 1664, I sayd to him, "Methinkes 'tis pity, that you
that have such a cleare reason and inventive head did
never take into consideration, the learning of the lawes,"
and I endeavoured to persuade him to it ; but he answered
that he was not like to have life enough left, to goe
through with such a long and difficult task. I then pre-
sented him, in order thereunto, and to draw him on,
the Lord Ch. Bacon's Elements of the Lawe (a thin 4to.)
which he was pleased to accept, and the next time I came
to him he shewed me therein, two cleare paralogisms,
which I am heartily sorry are now out of my remem-
brance.
I desponded that he should make any attempt (tenta-
men) towards this designe. But afterwards, it seemes,
in the countrv, he writt this treatise "De Legibus", (un-
printed) of which Sir J. Vaughan, Ld. Chief Justice of
the Common Pleas, had a transcript, and I doe affirm that
he much admired it.
1665. This yeare he told me that he w^as willmg to doe
>
some good to the towne where he was borne; that his
Majestie loved him well, and if I could find out some-
thing in our country that was in his orift, he did believe
he could beg it of his Majestie, and since he was bred a
scholar, he thought it most proper to found a free-school
there, which is wanting nozv; for before the Reformation,
all monasteries had great schooles appendant to them.
After inquiry T found out a piece of land in Braden-for-
est, that was in his Majestie's pos-session, of about 25I.
per annum value, which he hoped to have obtained of
his Majestie, for a salary for a schoolmaster; but the
Queen's priests, smelling out the designe, and being his
enemies, prevented this public and charitable intention.
A'o. D'ni. 1674, Mr. Anthony a Wood sett forth an
elaborate worke of eleven yeares' study, intituled the
"History and Antiquities of the University of Oxford,'"
wherein, in every respective Colledge and Hall, he men-
tions the writers there educated, and what books they
wrote. The Deane of Christ Church, having the ab-
solute power of the presse there, perused every sheet be-
fore it was sent to the presse, and after, and maugre the
author, and to his great grief and sore displeasure, ex-
punged and inserted, what he thought fitt. Among other
authors, he made divers alterations in Mr. Wood's copie,
in the account he gives of Mr. T. Hobbes of Malmes-
bury's Life, in p. 376, 377, Lib. H. "Vir sane de quo
(inter tot prosperae et adversae famae qui de eo spargun-
tur hominum sermones) hoc verissime pronuntiare fas
est, animum ipsi obtigisse, uti omnis scientiae capacis-
simum et infertum, ita divitiarum, saeculi, et invidiae
negligentissimum ; erga cognatos et alios pium et bene-
ficum. Inter eos quibuscum vixit, hilarem et apertum, et
sermone Hbero. Apud exteros summa semper venera-
tione habitum," &c. This and much more was quite
dashed out of the author's copie by the sayd Deane.
XX
LIFE OF HOBBES
heretique ; which he hearing, feared that his papers mij^ht
be searched by their order, and he told me that he had
burned part of them. I have received word from his
amanuensis and executor, that he remembers there were
such verses, for he wrote them out, but knowes not what
became of them, unless he presented them to Judc^e
Vaughan, or burned them, as I did seeme to intimate.
(But I understand since by W. Crooke, that he can re-
trieve a great many of them.)
From 1660, till the time he last went into Derbyshire,
he spent most part of his time in London, at his Lord's,
viz. at Little Salisbury-house, then Queen-street, lastly
Newport-house; following his contemplation and study.
He contemplated and invented in the morning, but penned
in the afternoon.
In 1664, I savd to him, '^Methinkes 'tis pity, that you
that have such a cleare reason and inventive head did
never take into consideration, the learning of the lawes,"
and I endeavoured to persuade him to it ; but he answered
that he was not like to have life enough left, to goe
through with such a long and difficult task. I then pre-
sented him, in order thereunto, and to draw him on,
the Lord Ch. Bacon's Elements of the Lawe (a thin 4to.)
which he was pleased to accept, and the next time I came
to him he shewed me therein, two cleare paralogisms,
which I am heartily sorry are now out of my remem-
brance.
I desponded that he should make any attempt (tenta-
men) towards this designe. But afterwards, it seemes,
in the countrv, he writt this treatise *'De Legibus", (un-
printed) of which Sir J. Vaughan, Ld. Chief Justice of
the Common Pleas, had a transcript, and I doe affirm that
he much admired it.
1665. This yeare he told me that he was willing to doe
LIFE OF HOBBES
XXI
some good to the towne where he was borne; that his
Majestic loved him well, and if I could find out some-
thing in our country that was in his srift, he did believe
he could beg it of his Majestie, and since he was bred a
scholar, he thought it most proper to found a free-school
there, which is wanting now; for before the Reformation,
all monasteries had great schooles appendant to them.
After inquiry T found out a piece of land in Braden-for-
est, that was in his Majestie's possession, of about 25I.
per annum value, which he hoped to have obtained of
his Majestie, for a salary for a schoolmaster; but the
Queen's priests, smelling out the designe, and being his
enemies, prevented this public and charitable intention.
A'o. D'ni. 1674, Mr. Anthony a Wood sett forth an
elaborate worke of eleven yeares' study, intituled the
*^History and Antiquities of the University of Oxford,"
wherein, in every respective Colledge and Hall, he men-
tions the writers there educated, and what books they
wrote. The Deane of Christ Church, having the ab-
solute power of the presse there, perused every sheet be-
fore it was sent to the presse, and after, and maugre the
author, and to his great grief and sore displeasure, ex-
punged and inserted, what he thought fitt. Among other
authors, he made divers alterations in Mr. Wood's copie,
in the account he gives of Mr. T. Hobbes of Malmes-
bury's Life, in p. 376, 377» Lib. H. "Vir sane de quo
(inter tot prosperae et adversae famae qui de eo spargun-
tur hominum sermones) hoc verissime pronuntiare fas
est, animum ipsi obtigisse, uti omnis scientiae capacis-
simum et infertum, ita divitiarum, saeculi, et invidiae
negligentissimum ; erga cognatos et alios pium et bene-
ficum. Inter eos quibuscum vixit, hilarem et apertum, et
sermone libero. Apud exteros summa semper venera-
tione habitum," &c. This and much more was quite
dashed out of the author's copie by the sayd Deane.
XXll
LIFE OF HOBBES
These additions and expunctions being made by the
sayd Deane of Christ Church, without the advice, and
quite contrary to the mind of the author, he told him, it
was fitt Mr. Hobbes should know what he had done, be-
cause that his name being set to the booke, and all people
knowing it to be his, he should be liable to an answer, and
so consequently be in perpetual controversie. To this
the Deane replied, ''Yea in God's name, and great reason
it was that he should know what he had done, and what
he had done he would answer for," &c.
Hereupon, in the beginning of 1674, the author ac-
quaints J. W. Mr. Hobbes's correspondent, with all that
had passed. J. W. acquaints Mr. Hobbes. Mr. Hobbes
taking it ill was resolved to vindicate himself in an
Epistle to the author, accordingly an epistle, dated Apr.
20, 1674, was sent to the author in MS. with an intention
to publish it, when the History of Oxford was to be pub-
lished. Upon the receipt of Mr. Hobbes's Epistle by An-
thony a Wood, he forthwith repaired, very honestly and
without any guile, to the Deane of Christ Church, to
communicate it to him, and to let him see that he would
do nothing under-hand against him. The Deane read it
over carelessly, and not without scorne, and when he
had done, bid Mr. Wood tell Mr. Hobbes, "that he was
an old man, had one foote in the grave, that he should
mind his latter end, and not trouble the world any more
with his papers," &c. or to that eflFect.
In the meane time Mr. Hobbes meetes with the King
in the Pall-mall, in St. James's parke ; tells him how he
had been served by the Deane of Christ Church, in a
booke then in presse, intituled the "History and Antiqui-
ties of the Universitie of Oxon," and withall desires his
Majestic to be pleased to give him leave to vindicate
himself. The King seeming to be troubled at the deal-
LIFE OF HOBBES
XXlll
ing of the Deane, gave Mr. Hobbes leave, conditionally,
that he touch nobody but him who had abused him,
neither that he should reflect upon the Universitie.
Mr. Hobbes understanding that this History would
be published at the Common Act, at Oxon, about 1 1 July,
the said year, 1674, prints his Epistle at London, and
sends downe divers copies to Oxon, which bemg dis-
persed at Coffee-houses and Stationers' shops, a copy
forthwith came to the Deane's hands, who upon the read-
ing of it fretted and fumed at it as a most famous libell,
and soon after meeting with the author of the History
chid him, telling him that he had corresponded with his
enemie (Hobbes). The author replied, that surely he
had forgot what he had donne, for he had communicated
to him before what Mr. Hobbes had sayd and written ;
whereupon the Deane recollecting himselfe, told him,
that Hobbes should suddenly heare more of him, and that
he would have the printer called to an account for print-
ing such a notorious libell.
1675. He left London, cum animo nunquam rever-
tendi, and spent the remainder of his dayes in Derby-
shire, with the E. of Devon, at Chatsworth and Hard-
wyck, in contemplation and study.
' Tis of custom, in the Lives of wise men to putt
downe their sayings; now if trueth (uncommon) deliv-
ered clearly and wittily goes for a saying, his common
discourse was full of them, which for the most part were
sharp and significant.
In his youth he was unhealthy, and of an ill com-
plexion, (yellowish). His Lord, who was a waster, sent
him up and downe to borrow money, and to get gent,
to be bound for him, being ashamed to speake himselfe ;
he took cold, being wett in his feet, and trod both his
shoes aside the same way. Notwithstanding he was
XXIV
LIFE OF HOBBES
LIFE OF HOBBES
XXV
V
well-beloved, they loved his company for his pleasant
facetiousness and suavity. From forty he crrew healthier,
and then he had a fresh ruddy complexion ; he was san-
guineo-melancholicus, which the physiologers say is the
most ingeniose complexion. He would say, that there
might be good witts of all complexions; but good na-
tnred, impossible.
In his old age he was very bald, yet within dore he
used to study, and sitt bare-headed, and sayd he never
tooke cold in his head, but that the greatest trouble was
to keepe oflP the flies from pitching on the baldness. His
head was of a mallet forme, approved by the physiologers.
His face not very great, ample forehead, yellowish
reddish whiskers, which naturally turned up; belowe he
was shaved close, except a little tip under his lip ; not but
that nature would have aflforded him a venerable beard,
but being mostly of a cheerful and pleasant humour, he
affected not at all austerity and gravity, and to look se-
vere. He considered gravity and heavinesse of counten-
ance not so good marks of assurance of God's favour, as
a cheerful, charitable, and upright behaviour, which are
better signes of religion than the zealous maintaining of
controverted doctrines.
He had a good eie, and that of a hazel colour, which
was full of life and spirit, even to his last ; when he was
in discourse, there shone (as it were) a bright live coale
within it. He had two kinds of looks ; when he laught,
was witty, and in a merry humour, one could scarce see
his eies : by and by when he was serious and earnest, he
opened his eies round his eie-lids; he had midling eies,
not very big, nor very little.
He was six foote high, and something better, and
went indifferently erect, or rather, considering his great
age, very erect.
\
His sight and witt continued to his last. He had a
curious sharp sight, as he had a sharp witt : which was
also so sure and steady, that I have heard him often-
times say, that in multiplying and dividing he never mis-
took a figure, and so in other things. He thought much,
and with excellent method and readiness, which made
him seldom make a false step. He had read much, if one
considers his long life, but his contemplation was much
more than his reading. He was wont to say, that if he
had read as much as other men, he should have contmued
still as ignorant as other men.
He seldom used any physique. He was wont to say
that he had rather have the advice, or take physique
from an experienced old woman, that had been at many
sick people's bed-sides, than from the most learned but
unexperienced physitian.
It is not consistent with an harmonicall soule to be a
^^ oman-hater, neither had he an abhorrence to good wine,
but he was even in his youth (generally) temperate, both
as to wine and women (et tamen haec omnia tnediocnter.
Homo sum, humani nihil a mc alienum puto.) I have
heard him say that he has been drunke in his life, a hun-
dred times, which considering his great age, did not
amount to above once a year ; when he did drinke, he
would drinke to excesse to have the benefit of vomiting,
which he did easily, by which benefit neither his witt was
disturbed nor his stomach oppressed ; but he never was,
nor could endure to be, habitually a good fellow, i. e to
drink every day wine with company, which though not
to drunkennesse, spoiles the braine. ^
For his last thirty yeares. or more, his diet, &c. was
verv moderate, and regular: after sixty he dranke no
wine his stomach grew weak, and he did eate mostly
fish, 'especially whitings; for he sayd he digested fish
^
XXVI
LIFE OF HOBBES
LIFE OF HOBBES
XXVll
better than flesh. He rose about seaven, had his break-
fast of bread and butter, and tooke his walke, meditating
till ten, then he did putt downe the minutes of his
thoughts. His dinner was provided for him exactly by
eleaven, for he could not now stay till his Lord's houre,
— sc. about two. After dinner he tooke a pipe of to-
bacco, and then threw himself immediately on his bed,
with his band off, and slept about halfe an houre ; in the
afternoon he penned his morning thoughts.
Besides his dayly walking, he did twice or thrice a
yeare play at tennis, (at about seventy-five he did it)
then went to bed and was well-rubbed. This he did be-
lieve would make him live two or three yeares the longer.
He gave to James Wheldon, his amanuensis, (who
writes a delicate hand) his pension at Leicester, yearly,
to wayte on him, and take care of him, which he did per-
forme to him living and dying, with great respect and
diligence : for which consideration he made him his exe-
cutor.
In cold weather he commonly wore a black velvet
coate, lined with furre ; if not, some other coate so lined ;
but all the yeare he wore a kind of bootes (buskins) of
Spanish leather, laced or tyed along the sides with black
ribbons.
He had always bookes of prick-song lying on his
table:— e. g. of H. Lawes, &c. songs,— which at night,
when he was abed, and the dores made fast, and was
sure nobody heard him, he sang aloud, (not that he had
a good voice) but for his health's sake ; he did believe it
did his lunges good, and conduced much to prolong his
life.
He had the shaking palsy in his hands ; which began
in France before the year 1650, and has growne upon hina
by degrees ever since; so that he has not been able to
•
write legibly since 1665 or 1666, as I find by some of his
letters to me that he honoured me withall.
His love to his kindred hath already been spoken of.
He was very charitable (e suo modulo) to those that
were true objects of his bounty.
One time, I remember, goeing in the Strand, a poor
and infirme old man begged his almes ; he beholding him
with eies of pitty and compassion, putt his hand in his
pocket, and gave him 6d. ; Sayd a divine (sc. Dr. Jasper
Mayne) that stood by, "Would you have done this, if it
had not been Christ's command?" "Yea," sayd he;
"Why ?" quoth the other ; "Because," sayd he, "I was in
paine to consider the miserable condition of the old man ;
and now my almes, giving him some relief, doth also ease
me.
ff
His work was attended with envy, which threw sev-
erall aspersions and false reports on him; for instance,
one was, that he was afrayd to lye alone at night in his
chamber. I have often heard him say, that he was not
afrayd of sprights, but afrayd of being knockt on the
head for five or ten pounds, which rogues might thinke
he had in his chamber ; and severall other tales, as un-
true.
I have heard some positively affirme, that he had a
yearly pension from the King of France; possibly for
having asserted such a monarchic as the King of France
exercises ; but for what other grounds I know not ; un-
less it be for that the present King of France is reputed
an encourager of choice and able men in all faculties,
who can attribute to his greatness. I never heard him
speake of any such thing ; since his death I have inquired
of his most intimate friends in Derbyshire, who wrote to
me, they never heard of any such thing. Had it been so,
[neither] he, nor they, ought to have been ashamed of it.
/
XXVlll
LIFE OF HOBBES
LIFE OF HOBBES
XXIX
and it had been becoming the munificence of so great a
prince to have donne it.
For his being branded with atheisme, his writings
and virtuous life testify against it. And that he was a
Christian is clear, for he received the sacrament; and in
his confession to Dr. Cosins, at . . .on his (as he
thought) death-bed, declared that he liked the religion
of the Church of England best of all other.
He would have the worship of God performed with
musique.
Catalogue of his Learned Familiar Friends and Ac-
quaintance, besides those already mentioned, that
I remember him to have spoken of.
Mr. Benjamin Jonson, Poet-Laureate, was his loving
and familiar friend and acquaintance.
. . . Ayton, Scoto-Britannus, a good poet and
critique. He was needy related to his Lord's lady, and
he desired Ben Jonson, and this gent, to give their judg-
ment on his style of his translation of Thucydides.
Sydney Godolphin, Esq. was his great friend. He
left him, in his will, a legacy of an hundred pounds; and
Mr. Hobbes hath left him an eternal monument in lib.
... of his Leviathan.
Lucius Carey, Lord Falkland, was his great friend
and admirer : and so was Sir William Petty ; both which
I had here enrolled amongst those friends I have heard
him speake of, but Dr. Blackburne left them out (to mv
admiration). I asked him why he had donne so? He
answered, because they were both ignote to foreigners.
Mr. Henry Gellibrand, Astronomy Professor at Gres-
ham College.
When he was at Florence, he contracted a friendship
with the famous Galileo Galilei, whom he extremely ven-
„
erated and magnified; not only as he was a prodigious
witt, but for his sweetness of nature and manners. They
pretty well resembled one another. They were not much
unlike in the countenance, as by their pictures may ap-
pear. They were both cheerfull and melancholique-
sanguine ; and had both a consimilitie of fate, to be hated
and persecuted by the ecclesiastiques.
Petrus Gassendus, S. Th. Doctor et Regius Professor
Parisiis, whom he never mentions but with great honour
and respect. Doctissimus, humanissimus. They laud
each other entirely, as also the like love and friendship
was betwixt him, and
Marinus Mersennus, *
Mons'r Renatus Des Cartes,
. . . Niceron,
Samuel Sorbier, M. D.
Verdusius, to whom he dedicates his Dialogi.
Sr. William Petty (of Ireland) Reg. Soc. Socius, a
person of a great stupendous invention, and of as great
prudence and humanity, had a high esteem of him. His
acquaintance began at Paris, at which time Mr. H.
studied Vesalius (Anatomy), and Sr. W. with him. He
then assisted Mr. H. in drawing his schemes for his booke
of optiques, for he had a very fine hand in those dayes
for drawing, which draughts Mr. Hobbes did much com-
mend. His facultie in this kind conciliated them the
sooner to the familiarity of our common friend, Mr. S.
Cowper, at whose house they often met. (He drew his
picture twice, the first the K. has, the other is yet in the
custody of his widowe; but he gave it, indeed, to me,
and r promised I would give it to the archives at
Oxon,) but I, like a fool, did not take possession of it,
for something of the garment was not quite finished, and
he dyed, T being then in the country.
XXX
LIFE OF HOBBES
Mr. Abraham Cowley, the Poet, who hath bestowed
on him an immortal Pindarique Ode, which is in his
Poems.
Wm. Harvey, Dr. of Physic and Chirurgery, inven-
tor of the Circulation of the Blood, who left him in his
will ten poundes, as his brother told me at his funerall.
(Obiit A'o. 1657, aetat. 80, sepult, at Hempsted, in Es-
sex.)
When his "Leviathan" came out, he sent by Andr.
Crooke, his stationer's man, a copie of it, well-bound, to
Mr. John Selden, in Aedihus Carmeliticis ; ^Ir. Selden
told the servant, he did not know Mr. Hobbes, but had
heard mufth of his worth, and that he should be very glad
to be acquainted with him; whereupon Mr. Hobbes
wavted on him; from which time there was a strickt
friendship between them to his dyeing day. He left to
Mr. Hobbes, by his will, a legacy of ten pounds.
Sr. John Vaughan, Lord Chiefe Justice of the Com-
mon Pleas, was his great acquaintance, to whom he made
visits, three times or more in a weeke; out of terme in
the morning; in terme-time, in the afternoon.
Sr. Charles Scarborough, M. D. Physitian to his
Royal Highnesse the Duke of Yorke, much loved his con-
versation, and hath a very good and like picture of him
(drawne about 1655), under which is this distich, by Sir
C. Scarborough.
Si (luaeris de me, mores inquire, sed ille
Qui quaerit de me, forsitan alter erit.
Sr. Jonas Moore, (Mathematicus) Surveyor of his
Majesty's Ordinance, who had a great veneration for
Mr. Hobbes, and was wont much to lament he fell to the
study of mathematiques so late.
Mr. Richard White, who writt "Hemispherium Dis-
sectum.'*
LIFE OF HOBBES
xxxi
Edward Lord Herbert, of Cherbury and Castle Island.
Sir W. Davenant, Poet-Laureate after B. Jonson, and
Generall of Ordinance to the Duke of Newcastle.
William Chillingworth, D. D. He would commend
this Doctor for a very great witt ; "but by G — ," said he,
"he is like some lusty fighters, that will give a damnable
back-blow now and then on their own party."
George Aglionby, D. D. and Deane of Canterbury,
was also his great acquaintance. He died at Oxford,
1643, of the epidemique disease then raging.
Jasper Mayne, D. D. Chaplain to Wm. Marquisse of
Newcastle, was an old acquaintance of his.
Mr. Francis Osbume, author of "Advice to a Son,"
and several other treatises, was his great acquaintance.
John Pell, D. D. Mathematicus, quondam Professor
... at Breda, who quotes him in his . . . contra
Longomantanum de Quadratura Circuli, for one of his
Jury (of 12).
Mr. Henry Stubbes, physitian, whom he much es-
teemed for his great learning and parts, but at the latter
end he (Mr. H.) differed with him, for that he wrote
against the Lord Chancellor Bacon, and the Royall So-
cietie.
Walter Charleton, M. D. Physitian to his Majestic,
and one of the Colledge of Physitians in London, a high
admirer of him.
Mr. Samuel Butler, the author of Hudibras.
In his . . . Dialogi he hath a noble elogie of Sr.
Christopher Wren, then a young scholar in Oxon, but I
thinke they were not acquainted.
Mr. Hooke loved him, but was never but once in his
company.
Now as he had these ingeniose and learned friends,
and many more, no question, that I know not, or now
XXXll
LIFE OF HOBBES
LIFE OF HOBBES
xxxiu
escape my memory; so he had many enemies, (though
undeserved) for he would not provoke, but if provoked,
he was sharp and bitter, and as a prophet is not esteemed
in his owne country, so he was more esteemed by for-
eigners, than by his countrymen.
He had very few bookes, I never sawe (nor Sir Wil-
Ham Petty) above halfe a dozen about him in his cham-
ber. Homer and Virgil were commonly on his table;
sometimes Xenophon. or some probable Historie, Greek
Test, or so.
I have heard him say, that Aristotle was the worst
teacher that ever was, the worst poHtician and ethick : a
country fellow that could live in the world, as good ; but
his Rhetorique and his Discourse of Animals was rare.
When Mr. Hobbes was sick in France, the divines
came to him, and tormented him (both Cathol. Ch. of
England, and Geneva), sayd he to them, ''Let me alone,
or else I will detect all your cheates from Aaron to your-
selves." I thinke T have heard him speake something to
this purpose.
Mr. Edm. Waller sayd to me, when I desired him to
write some verses in praise of him, that he was afrayd of
the churchmen; he quoted Horace — "Incedo per ignes
Suppositos cineri doloso." — That which was chiefly to be
taken notice of in his Elogie was, that he being, but one,
and a private person, pulled down all the churches, dis-
pelled the mists of ignorance, and layd open their priest-
craft.
In May, 1688, his ''Ecclesiastica Historia Carmine
Elegiaco conscripta", was printed at Augusta Trinoban-
ttim, sc. London. The preface was writt by Mr. Thomas
Rymer, of Gray's Inn ; but 'h">ufiw
the like effects of those we conceive in our mind, as tar.
forth as matter, strength, and industry, will permit, for
the commodity of human life. For the inward glory and
triumph of mind that a man may have for the mastenng
of some difficult and doubtful matter, or for the discov-
ery of some hidden truth, is not worth so much pains as
the study Qf Philosophy requires; nor need any njan care
much to teach another what he knows himself, if he thit* ^
that will be the only benefit of his labour. The e^f ^, /^yf
knowledge ispower; and the use of theorems (which, ^^PT!:
aiB^f^Jii^ans, serve for the finding out of prop-
erties) is for the construction of problems; and, lasUy, x
the scope of all speculation is the performmg of somey
acticwi, or thing to be done.
7. But what the utility of philosophy is, espcaally
L^\^n v*^\
A.<#**
•)
ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
OF PHILOSOPHY
/
N
J -
X
of natural philosophy and geometry, will be best under-
stood by reckoning up the chief commodities of which
mankind is capable, and by comparing the manner of life
of such as enjoy them, with that of others which want
^ the same. / Now, the greatest commodities of mankind
are the arts; namely, of measuring matter and motion;
of moving ponderous bodies ; of architecture ; of naviga-
tion ; of making instruments for all uses ; of calculating
the celestial motions, the aspects of the stars, and the
parts of tim€ ; of geography, &c. By which sciences, how
great benefits men receive is more easily understood than
» expressed. These benefits are enjoyed by almost all the
people of Europe, by most of those of Asia, and by some
of Africa : but the Americans, and they that live near the
Poles, do totally want them. But why? Have they
sharper wits than these? Have not all men one kind of
soul, and the same faculties of mind ? What, then, makes
this difference, except philosophy? Philosojhy, there-
fore jsjhe c ause of aH these benefi ts. //But the iitility of
• moral and civil philosophy is to be estimated, not so much
by the commodities we have by knowing these sciences,
as by the calamities we receive from not knowing them.
( Now, all such calamities as may be avoided by human in-
I dustry, arise from war, but chiefly from civil war; for
from this proceed slaughter, solitude, and the want of
all things. But the cause of war is not that men are will-
ing to have it; for the will has nothing for object but
good, at least that which seemeth good. Nor is it from
' this, that men know not that the effects of war are evil ;
for who is there that thinks not poverty and loss of life to
be great evils? The cause, therefore, of civil war is, that
'men know not the causes neither of war nor peace, there
-being but few in the world that have learned those duties
^which unite and keep men in peace, that is to say, that
T
have learned the rules of civil life sufficiently. Now, the
knowledge of these rules is moral philosophy. But why
have they not learned them, unless for this reason, that
none hitherto have taught them in a clear and exact
method? For what shall we say? (Could the ancient
masters of Greece, Egypt, Rome, and others, persuade
the unskilful multitude to their innumerable opinions
concerning the nature of their gods, which they them-
selves knew not whether they were true or false, and
which were indeed manifestly false and absurd; and
could they not persuade the same multitude to civil duty,
if they themselves had imderstood it ? Or shall those few
writings of geometricians which are extant, be thought
sufficient for the taking away of all controversy in the
matters they treat of, and shall those innumerable and
huge volumes of ethics be thought unsufficient, if what
they teach had been certain and well demonstrated?
What, then, can be imagined to be the cause that the
writings of those men have increased science, and the
writings of these have increased nothing but words, sav-
ing that the former were written by men that
knew, and the latter by such as knew not, the
doctrine they taught only for ostentation of their
wit and eloquence? Nevertheless, I deny not but the
reading of some such books is very delightful ; for they
are most eloquently written, and contain many clear,
wholesome and choice sentences, which yet are not uni-
versally true, though by them universally pronounced.
From whence it comes to pass, that the circumstances
of tames, places, and persons being changed, they are
no less frequently made use of to confirm wicked men
in their purposes, than to make them understand the pre-
cepts of civil duties. ( Now that which is chiefly wanting
in them, is a true and certain rule of our actions, by which
ETXMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
OF PHILOSOPHY
U
I 4
•i^r>.
"jut "TvwOi* ^
i
^4 Umc
ft
/
wc might know whether that we undertake be just or un-
just. For it is to no purpose to be bidden in every thing
to do right, before there be a certain rule and measure
1 of right established, which no man hitherto hath estab-
lished. Seeing, therefore, from the not knowing of civil
duties, that is, from the want of moral science, proceed
civil wars, and the greatest calamities of mankind, we
may very well attribute to such science the production
of the contrary commodities. And thus much is suffi-
cient, to say nothing of the praises and other contentment
proceeding from philosophy, to let you see the utility of
the same in every kind thereof.
8. The subject of Philosophy, or the matter it treats
of, is eve ry bo dy of which we can conceive an y gene r-
ation, and which we may, by any consideration thereof,
compare with other bodies, or which is capable of compo-
sition and resolution; that is to say, (every body of whose
generation or properties we can have any knowledge.
And this may be deduced from the definition of philos-
ophy, whose profession it is to search out the proper-
ties of bodiej^ from their generation, or their genera-
tion from their properties; andT^herefore, where there
lis no generation or property, there is no philosophy.
Therefore it excludes Theology, I mean the doctrine of
God, eternal, ingenerable, incomprehensible, and in
whom there is nothing neither to divide nor compound,
nor any generation to be conceived.
It excludes the doctrine of angels, and all such things
as are thought to be neither bodies nor properties of
bodies; there being in them no place neither for com-
position nor division, nor any capacity of more and less,
that is to say, no place for ratiocination.
It excludes history, as well natural as political,
though most useful (nay necessary) to philosophy; be-
i
cause such knowledge is but experience^_orjauthority,
and not ratiocination.
It excludes all such knowledge as is acquired by
Divine inspiration, or revelation, as not derived to us by
reason, but by Divine grace in an instant, and, as it were,
by some sense supernatural.
It excludes not only all doctrines which are false,
but such also as are not well-grounded; for whatsoever
we know by right ratiocination, can neither be false nor
doubtful; and, therefore, astrology, as it is now held
forth, and all such divinations rather than sciences, are
excluded.
Lastly, the doctrine of God's worship is excluded
from philosophy, as being not to be known by natural
reason, but by the authority of the Church ; and as being
the object of faith, and not of knowledge.
9. The principal parts of philosophy are two. For
two_chief^Jdnds_oL bodies, and very different from one
another, offer themselves to such as search after their
generation and properties; one whereof being the work
of nature, is called a naturaLJbody, the other is called a
commonwealth^2ji6. is made by the wills and agreement
of men. And from these spring the two parts of phil-
osophy, called natural and civxL But seeing that, for the
knowledge of the properties of a commonwealth, it is
necessary first to know the dispositions, affections, and
manners of men, civil philosophy is again commonly divid-
ed into two parts, whereof one, which treats of men's dis-
positions and manners, is called ethics; and the other,
which takes cognizance of their civil duties, is called poli-
tics, or simply civil philosophy. In the first place, therefore
(after I have set down such premises as appertain to the
nature of philosophy in general), I will discourse of
bodies natural; in the second, of the dispositions and man-
^v..^:^
in
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T
\
n<»T«^a(
(3^
?
9
m ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
tiers of men; and in the third, of the civil duties of sub-
jects. *
lo. To conclude ; seeing there may be many who will
not like this my definition of philosophy, and will say, that,
from the liberty which a man may take of so defining as
seems best to himself, he may conclude any thing from
any thing (though I think it no hard matter to demon-
strate that this definition of mine agrees with the sense of
all men) ; yet, lest in this point there should be any cause
of dispute betwixt me and them, I here undertake no/
more than to deliver the elements of that science by which I
the effects of anything may be found out from the knowril
generation of the same, or contrarily, the generationi
from the effects ; to the end that they who search aftefl
other philosophy, may be admonished to seek it from
other principles.
* Compare the Leviathan, Ch. IX, and the following from the
Philosophical Rudiments, "Preface to the Reader/' (M. II, xix-
XX ). "I was studying philosophy for my mind sake, and I
had gathered together its first elements in all kinds ; and having
digested them into three sections by degrees, I thought to have
written them, so as in the first I would have treated of body and
its general properties; in the second of man and his special fac-
ulties and affections; in the third, of civil government and the
duties of subjects. Wherefore the first section would have con-
tained the first philosophy, and certain elements of physic; in
it we would have considered the reasons of time, place, cause,
power, relation, proportion, quantity, figure, and motion. In the
second, we would have been conversant about imagination, mem-
ory, intellect, ratiocination, appetite, will, good and evil, honest
and dishonest, and the like. What this last section handles, I
have now already showed you. Whilst I contrive, order, pen-
sively and slowly compose these matters; (for I only do reason,
I dispute not) ; it so happened in the interim, that my country,
some few years before the civil wars did rage, was boiling hot
with questions concerning the rights of dominion and the obedi-
ence due from subjects, the true forerunners of an approaching
war; and was the cause which, all those other matters deferred,
ripened and plucked from me this third part. Therefore it happens,
that what was last in order, is yet come forth first in time."
Compare also below Ch. VI, Sec. 6-7. Note that the Latin titles
of Hobbes' chief philosophical writings are De Corpore, De
Ho mine, and D^ Cive.
V
4.
X
"^WaM
CHAPTER II.
OF NAMES.
I. The necessity of sensible Moniments or Marks for the help
of Memory: a Mark defined. — 2. The necessity of Marks for
the signification of the cenceptions of the Mind. — ^3. Names
supply both those necessities. — ^4. The Definition of a Name. —
^. Names are Signs not of Things, but of our Cogitations. —
6. What it is we give Names to. — [7. Names Positive and
Negative.— 8. Contradictory Names. — 9. A Common Name. —
10. Names of the First and Second Intention. — 11. Universal,
Particular, Individual, and Indefinite Names. — 12. Names Uni-
vocal and Equivocal. — 13. Absolute and Relative Names. —
14. Simple and Compounded Names. — 15. A Predicament de-
scribed. — 16. Some things to be noted concerning Predica-
ments.]
I. How unconstant and fading men's thoughts are, and fluJ- ^ 4h
how much the recovery of them depends upon chance, ('
there is none but knows by infallible experience in him-
self. For no man is able to remember quantities without
sensible and present measures, nor colors without sensi-
ble and present patterns, nor number without the names
of numbers disposed in order and learned by heart. So
that whatsoever a man has put together in his mind by
ratiocination without such helps, will presently slip from
him, and not be revocable but by beginning his ratiocin-
ation anew. From which it follows, that, for the acquir-
ing of philosophy, some sensible moniments are necessary,
by which our past thoughts may be not only reduced, but
also registered every one in its own order. \ These moni-
ments I call MARKS, namely, sensible things taken at
pleasure, that, by the sense of them, such thoughts may
be recalled to cur mind as are like those thoughts for
which we took ^^^xiTtfji-^ .yf^t-^^J^-
11^1
<-s.
TK
u
ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
OF NAMES
15
L
2. Again, though some one man, of how excellent a
, wit soever, should spend all his time partly in reasoning,
'f^..r..^:i^iL, and partly in inventing marks for the help of his mem-
Tv W-L). ory, and advancing himself in learning ; who sees not that
^H """^^^ the benefit he reaps to himself will not be much, and to
others none at all? For unless he communicate his notes
with others, his science will perish with him. But if the
same notes be made common to many, and so one man's
inventions be taught to others, sciences will thereby be in-
creased to the general good of mankind. ^It is therefore
I necessary, for the acquiring of philosophy, that there be
I cer tain si^ s, by which what one man finds out may be
[manifested and made known to others. Now, those
^things we call signs are the antecedents of their conse-
quents, and the consequents of their antecedents, as often
as zvc observe them to go before or follow after in
the same manner. For example, a thick cloud is a sign
of rain to follow, and rain a sign that a cloud has gone
before, for this reason only, that we seldom see clouds
without the consequence of rain, nor rain at any time but
when a cloud has gone before. And of signs, some are
natural, whereof I have already given an example, others
are arbitrary, namely, those we make choice of at our own
pleasure, as a bush hung up, signifies that wine is to be
sold there ; a stone set in the ground signifies the bound
of a field ; and words so and so connected, signify the cog-
itations and motions of our mind.* The difference.
)Wc
' J
* Compare the following from Philosophical Rudiments. (M.
II, 219-220). "There are two kinds of signs; the one natural;
the other done upon agreement, or by express or tacit composi-
tion. Now because in every language the use of words and
names come by appointment, it may also by appointment be al-
tered; for that which depends on and derives its force from the
will of men, can by the will of the same men agreeing be changed
again or abolished. Such names therefore as are attributed to
t
T
if
T
therefore, betwixt marks and signs is this, that we make
those for our own use, but these for the use of others.
3. Words so connected as that they become si gns o f
oiirjhoughts, are called speech, of which every part is a
name. But seeing (as is said) both marks and
signs are necessary for the acquiring of philosophy,
(marks by which we may remember our own thoughts,
and signs by which we may make our thoughts known to
others), names do both these offices; but they serve for
marks before they be used as signs. For though a man
were alone in the world, they would be useful to him in
helping him to remember; but to teach others, (unless
there were some others to be taught) of no use at all.
Again, names, though standing singly by themselves, are
marks, because they serve to recall our own thoughts to
mind ; but they cannot be signs, otherwise than by being
;-;
i4/»*'>4^~.
God by the appointment of men, can by the same appointment
be taken away. Now what can be done by the appointment of
men, that the city may do. flhe city therefore by right, that is
to say, they who have the pOwer of the whole city, shall judge
what names or appellations are more, what less honorable for
God ; that is to say, what doctrines are to be held and professed
concerning the nature of God and his operations. Now actions I
do signify not by men's appointment, but naturally; even as the
effects are signs of their causes. Whereof some are always '
signs of scorn to them before whom they are committed; as
those whereby the body's uncleanness is discovered, and what-
soever men are ashamed to do before those whom they re-
spect. Others are always signs of honor, as to draw near and
discourse decently and humbly, to give way or to yield in -any
matter of private benefit. In these actions the city can alter
nothing. But there are infinite others, which, as much as belongs
to honour or reproach, are indifferent. Now these, by the insti-
tution of the city, may both be made signs of honour, and being
made so, do in very deed become so. ( From whence we may /
understand, that we must obey the city in whatsoever it shall ^,
command to be used for a sign o f honouring God, that is to say, /
for worship; provided it can be instituted for a sign of honour; I
because that is a sign of honour, which by the city's command is /
used for such."
79^
1^
1
1( ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
disposed and ordered in speech as parts of the same. For
example, a man may begin with a word, whereby the
hearer may frame an idea of something in his mind,
which, nevertheless, he cannot conceive to be the idea
which was in the mind of him that spake, but that he
would say something which began with that word, though
perhaps not as by itself, but as part of another word.
So that the nature of a name consists principally in this,
\ that it is a mark taken for memory's sake ; but it serves
also by accident to signify and make known to others
what we remember ourselves, and, therefore, I will define
it thus :
4. A NAME is a word taken at pleasure to serve for
a mark, which may raise in our mind a thought like to
some thought we had before, and which being pronounced
to others, may be to them a sign of what thought the
speaker had, or had not before in his mind. And it is for
brevity's sake that I suppose the original q4 names to be
arbitrary, judging it a thing that may be assumed as un-
questionable. For considering that new names are daily
made, and old ones laid aside ; that diverse nations use
different names, and how impossible it is either to ob-
serve similitude, or make any comparison betwixt a name
and a thing, how can any man imagine that the names
of things were imposed from their natures ? For though
some names of living creatures and other things, wliich
our first parents used, were taught by God himself ; yet
they were by him arbitrarily imposed, and afterwards,
both at the Tower of Babel, and since, in process of
time, growing everywhere out of use, are quite forgotten,
and in their room have succeeded others, invented and
received by men at pleasure. Moreover, whatsoever the
common use of words be, yet philosophers, who were to
teach their knowledge to others, had always the liberty.
OF NAMES
IJF
u
fi^...
'h
T
and sometimes they both had and will hav e a n ecessity,
of taking to themselves such names as they please for the
^ signifying of their meaning, if they would have it under-
stood. /Nor had mathematicians need to ask leave of any /
but themselves to name the figures they invented, para- > t
bolas, hyperboles, cissoeides, quadratices, &c. or to call)
one magnitude A, another B. Xa^^-u/ ^^^
5. But seeing names ordered in speech (as is de- ^*^'^V .
fined) are si gns of our conceptions^ it is manifest they are -^^:4::zf^^'^^
not_sign^ oi the things then^elyes ; for that the sound of ^ ^ ^^/^
this word stone should be the sign of a stone, cannot be ,^ ^ „^,»^ j.,
understood in any sense but this, that he that hears it
collects that he that pronounces it thinks of a stone. And,
therefore, that disputation, whether names signify the
matter or form, or something compoimded of both, and
other like subtleties of the metaphysics, is kept up by err-
ing men, and such as understand not the words they dis-
pute about.
6. Nor, indeed, is it at all necessary that every name
should be the name of something. For as these, a man, a
tree, a stone^ are the names of the things themselves, so
vw the images of a man, of a tree, and of a stone, which are
represented to men sleeping, have their names also,
though they be not things, but only fictions and phan-
tasms of things. For we can remember these ; and, there-
fore, it is no less necessary that they have names to mark
and signify them, than the things themselves. Also this
word future is a name, but no future thing has yet any
being, nor do we know whether that which we call future,
shall ever have a being or no. Nevertheless, seeing we
use in our mind to knit together things past with those
that are present, the name future serves to signify such
knitting together. Moreover, that which neither is, nor
has been, nor ever Shall, or ever can be, has a name.
T
J
A
s/
r
y^
18
ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
namely, that which neither is nor has been, &c. ; or more
briefly this, impossible. To conclude ; this word nothing
is a name, which yet cannot be the name of any thing:
for when, for example, we substract 2 and 3 from 5, and
60 nothing remaining, we would call that substraction to
mind, this speech nothing re^nains, and in it the word
nothing is not unuseful. And for the same reason we say
truly, less than nothing remains, when we substract more
from less; for the mind feigns such remains as these
for doctrine's sake, and desires, as often as is necessary,
to call the same to memor}\ / But seeing every name has
some relation to that which is named, though that which
we name be not always a thing th^t has a being in na-
ture, ye tjt is lawful for doctrin e^s sa ke to apply the wo rd
ih in^ to whatso eve r we name ; as if it were all one wheth-
er that thing be truly existent, or be only feigned.*
SUPPLEMENT FROM
HUMAN NATURE, CHAPTER V.
I. Seeing the succession of conceptions in the mind are
« ^
2 Compare the following from the Leviathan (M. Ill, 673),
"The use of words, is to register to ourselves, and make mani-
fest to others the thoughts and conceptions of our minds. Of
which words, some are the names of the things conceived; as
' the names of all sorts of bodies, that work upon the senses, and
leave an impression in the"Tihagination. Others are the names
yj of the ima ginat ions themselves ; that is to say, of those ideas, or
'^ mental images we have of all things we see, or remember. And
^ others again are named of names; or of different sorts of
•^ speech : as universal, plural, singular, are the names of names ;
and definition, affirmation, negation, true, false, syllogism, interro-
gation, promise, covenant, are the names of certain forms of
/ speech. Others serve to show the consequence^r repugn ance of
^Lft/U^a. *f- one name to another; as when one saith, a man ts a body, he liT-
fj ten^Hh fBaf the name of body is necessarily consequent to the
name of man; as being but several names of the same thing,
man; which consequence is signified by coupling them to-
gether with the word is"
T?
OF NAMES
19
ii.
caused, as hath been said before, by the succession they
had one to another when they w ere produced by the . t
s enses, and that there is no conception that hath not been '' ()ju^^
hath imagined or devised to set up a visible or other sen- ^^f^^^f»^:______
sible mark, the which, when he seeth it again, may bring .
to his mind the thought he had when he set it up. \ K\^ ^ ^7 '"^
mark therefore is a sensible object which a man erectethy ^"^ ^'^f
voluntarily to himself, to the end to remember thereby I ^ >iWf
somewhat past, when the same is objected to his sense t
again: as men that have passed by a rock at sea, set upj ^^Zl^^/
some mark, thereb^r to remember their former danger,!
and avoid it
2. In the number of these marks, are those human
voices, which we call the names or appellations of things
sensible by the ear, by which we recall into our mind
some conceptions of the things to which we gave those
names or appellations ; as the appellation white bringeth
to remembrance the quality of such objects as produce
that color or conception in us. A name or appellation i
therefore is t'he voice of a man arbitrary, imposed for a?"
mark to bring into his mind some conception concerning |
the thing on which it Is imposed.
i
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^\ t
^./^fj(.
*
• W*;:
Ka^.
JO ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
3. Things named, are either the objects themselves,
as a man ; or the conception itself that we have of man,
as shape and motion: or some privation, which is when
we conceive that there4§) something which \ye con-
ceive, not-iffEim ; as when we conceive he is not just, not
finite, we give him the name of unjust, of infinite, which
signify privation or defect; and to the privations them-
selves we give the names of injustice and infinitcness :
so that here be two sorts of names; one of things, in
which we conceive something ; or of the conceptions themr
selves, which are called positive: the other of things
wherein we conceive privation or defect, and those names
are called privative.
4. By the advantage of names it is that we are capa-
ble of science, which beasts, for want of them are not ;
nor man, without the use of them : for as a beast misseth
not one or two out of many her young ones, for want of
those names of order, one, two, and three, and which we
call number; so neither would a man, without repeating
orally or mentally the words of number, know how many
pieces of money or other things lie before him.
5. Seeing there be many conceptions of one and
the same thing, and for every conception we give it a
several name; it followeth that for one and the same
thing, we have many names or attributes ; as to the same
man we give the appellations of just, valiant, &c for di- )
vers virtues; of strong, comely, &c. for divers qualities |
of the body. And again, because from divers •
things we receive like conceptions, many things must
needs have the same appellation : as to all things we see,
we give the same name of visible; and to all things we sec
moveable, we give the appellation of moveable: and
those names we give to many, are called universal to them
all; as the name of man to every particular of mankind:
X'
OF NAMES
9t
\
p-4J.
T
.1
♦
fuch appellation as we give to one only thing, we call in-
dividual, or singularly; as Socrates, and other proper
names : or, by circumlocution, he that writ the Iliads, for
Homer.
6. The universality of one name to many things, hath > ^jU^^^j^
been the cause that men think the things are themselves ^ff>^^^^^
universal; and so seriously contend, that besides Peter a^ .t-A^c/ y
and John, and all the rest of the men that are, have been, cv>, ,-yC.^ ^-C
or shall be in the worid, there is yet something else that ^^^^^
we call man, viz. man in general, deceiving themselves,
by taking the universal, or general appellation, for the
thing it signifieth : for if one should desire the painter to
make him the picture of a man, which is as much as to
say, of a man in general ; he meaneth no more, but that
the painter should choose what man he pleaseth to draw,
which must needs be some of them that are, or have been,
or may be, none of which are universal. But when he
would have him to draw the picture of the king, or any
particular person, he limiteth ihe painter to that one per-
son he chooseth. /It is plain therefore, that there is noth-
ing universal but names; which are therefore called in-
'^deiinite; becausri^ne-4imit them not ourselves, but leave
them to be applied by the hearer: whereas a singular
name is limited and restrained to one of the many things
it signifieth ; as wben we say, this man, pointing to him,
or giving him his proper name, or by some such other
way.'
7. The appellations that be universal, and common
to many things, are not always given to all the particu-
If
•Compare the following from the Elements of Philosophy,
CM I, 19-20). *'A common name, being the name of many thmgs
Severally taken, but not collectively of all together (as man is
not the name of all mankind, but of every one, as of Peter, John,
md the rest severally) is therefore called an unwersal name;
T
I
I
i
» . ELBMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
lars, (as they ought to be) for Hke conceptions, and Hke
considerations in them all ; which is the cause that many
of them are not of constant signification, but bring into
our mind other thoughts than those for which they were
ordained, and these are called equivocal. As for example,
the word faith sig^ifieth the same with belief ; sometimes
It signifieth particularly that belief which maketh a Chrii-
tian ; and sometime it signifieth the keeping of a promise.
Also all metaphors are by profession equivocal: and there
is scarce any word that is not made equivocal by divers
contextures of speech, or by diversity of pronunciation
and gesture.
8. This equivocation of names maketh it difhcult to re-
cover those conceptions for which the name was ordained :
and that not only in the language of other men, where-
in we are to consider the drift, and occasion, and con-
texture of the speech, as well as the words themselves ;
but also in our discourse, which being derived from the
custom and common use of speech, representeth unto us
not our own conceptions. It is therefore a great ability
in a man, out of the words, contexture, and other circum-
stances of language, to deliver himself from equivocation,
and to find out the true meaning of what is said : and this
is it we call understandinf^.
and therefore this word universal is never the name of anything
existent in nature, nor of any idea or phantasm formed in the
mind, but alwavs the name of some word or name ; so that when
a living creature, a stone, a spirit, or any other thing, is said to be
universal, it is not to be understood, that any man, stone, &c.
ever was or can be universal, but only that these words, living
creature, stone, &»c. are universal names, that is, names common
to many things; and the conceptions answering them in our
mind, are the images and phantasms of several living creatures,
or other things. And therefore, for the understanding of the ex-
tent of an universal name, we need no other faculty but that of
our imagination, by which we remember that such names bring
sometimes one thing, sometimes another, into our mind/'
I
OF NAMES n
9. Of two appeilaiions, by the help of this little verb
is, or something equivalent, we make an affirmation or
negation, either of which in the Schools we call also a
proposition, and consisteth of two appellations joined
together by the said verb is: as for example, man is a
living creature ; or thus, man is ^ot_righteous :\ whereof
the former is called an affirmation, because the appella-
tion, living creature, is positive; the latter a negative, be-
cause not righteous is privative,
10. In every proposition, be it affirmative or nega-
tive, the latter appellation either comprehendeth the for-
mer, as in this proposition, charity is a virtue, the name of
virtue comprehendeth the name of charity, and many
other virtues beside; and then is the proposition said to
be true or trutJi: for, truth, and a true proposition, is all
one. Or else the latter appellation comprehendeth not the
former; as in this proposition, every man is just; the
name of just comprehendeth not every man ; for unjust is
the name of the far greater part of men : and the propo-
sition is said to be false, or falsity : falsity and a false |
proposition being also the same thing.
11. In what manner of two propositions, whether
both affirmative, or one affirmative, the other negative,
is made a syllogism, I forbear to write. All this that hath
been said of names or propositions, though necessary, is
but dry discourse : and this place is not for the whole art
of logic, which if I enter further into, I ought to pur-
sue : besides, it is not needful ; for there be few men which
have not so much natural logic, as thereby to discern well
enough, whether any conclusion I shall make in this dis-
course hereafter, be well or ill collected : only thus much
I say in this place, that making of syllogisms is that we
call ratiocination or reasoning.
12. Now when a man reasoneth from principles that
P
s
C H-^
-vy
"A
H-
14 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHV
^e found indubitable by experience, all deceptions of
sense and equivocation of words avoided, the conclusion
he maketh is said to be according to right reason: but
when from his conclusion a man may, by good ratiocma-
tion, derive that which is contradictory to any evident
truth whatsoever, then he is said to have concluded
against reason: and such a conclusion is called ab-
wctr^ o^ '^' surdity.
13. As the invention of names hath been necessary
for the drawing men out of ignorance, by calling to their
remembrance the necessary coherence of one conception
to another ; so also hath it on the other side precipitated
men into error: insomuch, that whereas by the benefit
of words and ratiocination they exceed hrute beasts m
knowledge, and the commodities that accwnpany the
same ; so they exceed them also in error: for true and . ^
i false are things not incident to beasts, because thei ad- ft^>
) here not to propositions and language; nor have they
] ratiocination, whereby to multiply one untruth by another,
\as men have.
14. It is the nature almost of every corporal thing,
.^ 'LftfJ^ u: being often moved in one and the same manner, to re-
i J,UU; V ceive continually a greater and greater easiness and apti-
K-VTii*^ ^''^^ tude to the same motion, insomuch as in time the same
^^•
becometh so habitual, that, to beget it, there needs
no more than to begin it. The passions of man, as they
are the beginning of voluntary motions ; so are they the
beginning of speech, which is the motion of the tongue.
And mjen desiring to shew others the knowledge, opin-
ions, conceptions, and passions which are in themselves,
and to that end having invented language, have by that
jmeans transferred all that discursion of their mind men-
tioned in the former chapter' by the motion of their
I tongues, into, discourse of words: and ratio now is but
<:«
ioLna..->r
;
i
t
OF NAMES
«S
oratio, for the most part, wherein custom hath so gr«t
a power, that the mind suggesteth only the first word;
the rest follow habitually, and are not followed by the
mind; as it is with beggars, when they say their ^a<^f-
noster. putting together such words, and in such man-
ner as in their education they have learned trom
their nurses, from their companies, or from tlieir teach-
ers, having no images or conceptions in their mind, an-
swering to the words they speak: and as they have
learned themselves, so they teach posterity. Now, if we
consider the power of those deceptions of the sense, men-
tioned chapter 11. section 10, and also how unconstantly
names have been settled, and how subject they are
to equivocation, and how diversHied by pass,on,
(scarce two men agreeing what is to be called good and
what evil; what liberality, what prodigality ; what valour,
what temlerity) and how subject men are to paralogism or
fallacy in reasoning, I may in a manner conclude, that it |
is impossible to rectify so many errors of any one man, I
as must needs proceed from those causes, without begin-
ning anew from the very first grounds of all our knowl- }
edge and sense ; and instead of books, reading over order-
ly one's own conceptions: in which meaning. I t^kc nosce j
teipsum for a precept worthy the reputation it hath got-
ten.*
« Compare on the whole discussion ^^\^'Z"Tom^Tt^n
Hobbes' discussion of abstract «ames is important Compare on
Sis topic the Elements of Philosophy Ch. HI. Sec^3-4^al^o J^
fnllowine from the same work, (M. I. 103). '* '^°"*^^"'"f^ }",
name of a tody, that is. concerning a concrete name, it be
^^^Xhat is /?• the answer "?"=' t'nTf^he'nte"' Bui ft be
question is concerning the signification of the name^ cause is de-
Isked concerning an abstract name, what,s .<• the cause ,s ae
manded why a thing appears so or so. As if >^be |'^*^;,7,''rt
is hardf The answer will be, hard is ttiat, wn^"^^"'. . i" .
rives place, but when the whole gives place. But if it be de
5
{
/t-^^^*
1
CHAPTER in.
OF PROPOSITIONS.
1. Divers kinds of speech.— 2. Proposition defined.— 3. Subject,
predicate, and copula, what they are; and abstract and con-
crete what.— 4. The use and abuse of names abstract- [5. Pro-
position, universal and particular.— 6. Affirmative and nega-
gative.]— 7. True and false.— S. True and false belongs to
speech, and not to things.— [9. Proposition, primary, not
primary, definition, axiom, petition.— 10. Proposition, neces-
sary and contingent. — 11. Categorical and hypothetical. — 12.
The same proposition diversely pronounced.— 13. Proposi-
tions that may be reduced to the same categorical proposition,
areequipollent.— 14. Universal propositions converted by con-
tradictory names, are equipollent.— 15. Negative propositions
are the same, whether negation be before or after the copula.
— 16. Particular propositions simply converted, are equipol-
lent— 17. What are subaltern, contrary, subcontrary, and con-
tradictory propositions.]— 18. Consequence, what it is— 19.
Falsity cannot follow from truth.— 20. How* one proposition
is the cause of another.
I. From the connexion or contexture of names arise
divers kinds of speech, whereof some signify the desires
and aflPections of men; such are, first, interrogations,
which denote the desire of knowing : as, Who is a good
man? In which speech there is one name expressed,
and another desired and expected from him of whom we
ask the same. Then prayers, which signify the desire of
having something; promises, threats, wishes, commands,
complaints, and other significations of other affections.
Speech may also be absurd and insignificant; as when
there is a succession of words, to which there can be no
succession of thoughts in mind to answer them ; and this
happens often to such, as, understanding nothing in some
subtle matter, do, nevertheless, to make others believe
they understand, speak of the same incoherently ; for the
Answer to Bishop Bramhall, (M. IV, 309). "Essence and all
other abstract names, are words artificial belonging to the art of
logic, and signify onlv the manner how we consider the substance
itself."
::
::
OF PROPOSITIONS
a7
connection of incoherent words, though it want the end
of speech (which is signification) yet it is speech; and is
used by writers of metaphysics almost as frequently as
speech significative, /in philosophy, there is but one kind
of speech useful, which some call in Latin dictum, others
enuntiatum et pronunciatum ; but most men call it prop-
osition, and is the speech of those that affirm or deny, and
expresseth truth or falsity.
2. A PROPOSITION is a speech consisting of two names
copulated, by which he that speaketh signifies he^jon-
ceives the latter name to he the name of the same thing
whereof the former is the name; or (which is all one)
that the former name is comprehended by the latter. For
example, this speech, man is a living creature, in which
two names are copulated by the verb is, is a proposition,
for this reason, that he that speaks it conceives both liv-
ing creature and wiaw to be names of the same thing, or
that the former name, man, is comprehended by the latter
name, living creature. Now the former name is com-
monly called the subject, or antecedent, or the contained
name, and the latter the predicate, consequent, or con-
taining name. The sign of connection amongst most
nations is either some word, as the word is in the prop-
osition man is a living creature, or some case or termina-
tion of a word, as in this proposition, man walketh
(which is equivalent to this, man is walking) ; the term-
ination by which it is said he walketh, rather than he is
walking, signifieth that those two are understood to be
copulated, or to be names of the same thing.
But there are, or certainly may be, some nations that
have no word which answers to our verb is, who never-
theless form propositions by the position only of one
name after another, as if instead of man is a living creat-
ure, it should be said man a living creature; for the very
/
I
U't 4.
7
aB ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
order of the names may sufficiently show their connec-
SiTand they are as apt and useful in philosophy, as if
they were copulated by the verb xs>
, Wherefore, in every proposition three things are
to be considered, viz. the two names, which arc Oie J«b-
ieci and the trd^cate, and their cofMloXxon; both which
iamcvov ; as body,
moveable, moved, figurate, a cubit high, hot, cold, like,
equal, Appius, Lentulus, and the like; and. abstract is
and th^livinz hody, is the same thing ; because the consequence,
same, are the niames of nothing.
OF PROPOSITIONS aj?
that whi ch in any su bject denotes the cause of the ^^' -,/^*"^^^^ J
Cre te na me, as to he a body, to be moveable, to be moved, ^ ^'^
to be figurate, to be of such quantity, to be hot, to be ^
l^f
cold, to be like, to be equal, to be Appius, to be Lentulus,
&c. Or names equivalent to these, which are most com-
monly called abstract names, as corporiety, mobility, mo-
tion, agure, quantity, heat, cold, likeness, equality, and
(as Cicero has it) Appiety and Lentulity, Of the same
kind also are infinitives ; for to live and to move are the
same with life and motion, or to be living and to
be moved, (But abstract names denote only the causes?
of concrete names, and not the things themselves. For)
example, when we see anything, or conceive in our mind
any visible thing, that thing appears to us, or is conceived
by us, not in one point, but as having parts distant from
one another, that is, as being extended and filling some
space. Seeing therefore we call the thing so conceived
body, the cause of that name is, that that thing is ex-
tended, or the extension or corporiety of it So when we
see a thing appear sometimes here, sometimes there, and
call it moved or removed, the cause of that name is that
it is moved or the motion of the same.
And these causes of names are the same with the causes
of our conceptions, namely, some power of action, or af-
fection of the thing conceived, which some call the man-
ner by which any thing works upon our senses, but by /
most men they are called accidents; I say accidents, not *)
in that sense in which accident is opposed to necessary; ^
but so, as being neither the things themselves, nor parts S
thereof, do nevertheless accompany the things in such
manner, that (saving extension) they may all perish, and
be destroyed, but can never be abstracted.
4. There is also this difference betwixt concrete and
abstract names, that those were invented before propo-
^^»«-y call-
ing to mind what things those words, which make up the prop-
osition, do by common consent usually signify. If so, then the
assent which we give, is called knowledge or science But if we
cannot remember what is certainly understood by those words,
but sometimes one thing, sometimes anoiher seem to be appre-
hended by us, then we are said to think. For example, if it be
propounded that two and three make five; and by calling to mma,
that the order of numeral words is so appointed by the com-
mon consent of them who are of the same language with us,
(as It weie, by a certain contract necessary for human aociety).
that five shall be the name of so many unities as are contained
in two and three taken together, a man assent that this is there-
fore true, because two and three together arc the same w\^h live :
this assent shall be called knowledge. And to know this truth
is nothing else, but to acknowledge that it is made by ourselves.
For by whose will and rules of speaking the number | | is called
two. I I I is called three, and | | | | | is called five ; by thejr will
also it comes to pass that this proposition is true, two and three
taken together make five. In^like manner if we remember what
it is that is called theft, and what injury; we shall understand by
the words themselves, whether it be true that theft xs an injury, ot
not. Truth is the same with a true proposition; but the proposition
is true in which the word consequent, which by logicians is called
the predicate, embraceth the word antecedent in its amplitude,
which they call the subject. And to know truth, is the same thing
as to remember that it was made bv ourselves by the very usur-
patjon of the words." Compare also the following from the hie-
ments of Philosophy, (M. I. 130-131). "All propositions con-
cerning future things, contingent or not contingent, as this, it
will rain tomorrow, or this, tomorrow the sun will m^ arc
either necessarily true, or necessarily false; but we call them
conting^ because we do not yet know whether they be true or
mmm^
54
ELJ MENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
therefore, if these be understcxxl to be true, it cannot
be understood that body is not the name of every man,
that is, that every man is a body is false, this proposition
will be said to follow from those two, or to be neces-'
sarily inferred from them. .
> 19. That a true pi^oposition may follow frcwn false
/ propositions, may happen sometimes ; but false from true,
V never. For if these, every man is a stone, and every
stone is a living creature, (which are both false) be
granted to be true, it is granted also that living creature
is the name of every stone, and stone of every man, that
is, that living creature is the name of every man; that
is to say, this proposition every man is a living creature,
is true, as it is indeed true. Wherefore a true proposi-
tion may sometimes follow from false. But if any two
propositions be true, a false one can never follow from
them. For if true follow from false, for this reason only,
that the false are granted to be true, then truth from two
truths granted will follow in the same manner.
20. Now, seeing none but a true proposition will fol-
low frcMn true, and that the understanding of two prop-
ositions to be true, is the cause of understanding that
also to be true which is deduced from them ; the two an-
tecedent propositions are commonly called the causes of
false ; whereas their verity depends not upon our knowledge, but
upon the foregoing of their causes. But there are some, who
though they confess this whole proposition, tomorrow it will
either rain, or not rain, to be true, yet they will not acknowledge
the parts of it, as, tomorrow it will rain, or tomorrow it will not
rain, to be either of them true by itself ; because they say neither
this nor that is true determinately. But what is this determinate-
ly true, but true upon our knowledge, or evidently true? And
therefore they say no more but that it is not yet known whether
it be true or no ; but they say it more obscurely, and darken tiic
evidence of the truth with the same words, with which they en-
deavor to hide their own ignorance."
J
u
7
OF PROPOSITIONS
3S
the inferred proposition, or conclusion. And from hence
it is that logicians say, the premises are causes of the
conclusion; which may pass, though it be not properly
spoken; for though understanding be the cause of un-
derstanding, yet speech is not the cause of speech. But
when they say, the cause of the properties of any thing,
is the thing itself, they speak absurdly. For example,
if a figure be propounded which is triangular; seeing
every triangle has all its angles together equal to two
right angles, frctfn whence it follows that all the angles
of that figure are equal to two right angles, they say,
for this reason, that that figure is the cause of that
equality. But seeing the figure does not itself make its
angles, and therefore cannot be said to be the efficient-
cause, they call it the formal-cause ; -vfhcTtdiS indeed it is
no cause at all ; nor does the property of any figure fol-
low the figure, but has its being at the same time with
it; only the knowledge of the figure goes before the
knowledge of the properties ; and one knowledge is truly
the cause of another knowledge, namely the efficient
cause.
And thus much concerning proposition; which in the
progress of philosophy is the first step, like the moving
fowards of one foot. By the due addition of another
step I shall proceed to syllogism, and make a complete
pace. Of which in the next chapter.
«J««>
OF SYLLOGISM
37
CHAPTER IV.
OF SYLLOGISM.
X. The definition of syllogism. — 2. In a syllogism there are but
three terms.— 3. Major, minor, and middle term; also major
and minor proposition, what they are. — [4. The middle term
in every syllogism ought to be determined in both the propo-
sitions to one and the same thing. — 5. From two particular
propositions nothing can be concluded. — 6. A syllogism is
the collection of two proi>ositions into one sum. — 7. The fig-
ure of a syllogism, what it is.]— 8. What is in the mind an-
swering to a syllogism. — [9. The first indirect figure, how it
is made. — 10. The second indirect figure, how made. — 11.
How the third indirect figure is made. — 12. There are many
moods in every figure, but most of them useless in philos-
ophy. — 13. An hypothetical syllogism when equipollent to a
categorical.]
I. A SPEECH, consisting of three propositions, from two
of which the third follows, is called a syllogism ; and
that which follows is called the conclusion; the other
two premises. For example, this speech, every man is
a living creature, every living creature is a body, there-
fore, every man is a body, is a syllogism, because the
third proposition follows from the two first; that is, if
those be granted to be true, this must also be granted
to be true.
2. From two propositions which have not one term
common, no conclusion can follow; and therefore no
syllogism can be made of them. For let any two prem-
ises, a man is a living creature, a tree is a plant, be both
of them true, yet because it cannot be collected from
them that plant is the name of a man, or man the
name of a plant, it is not necessary that this conclusion,
a man is a plant, should be true. Corollary : therefore,
in the premises of a syllogism there can be but three
terms.
Besides, there can be no term in the conclusion, which
was not in the premises. For let any two premises be,
a man is a living creature, a living creature is a body,
yet if any other term be put in the conclusion, as man
is two-footed; though it be true, it cannot follow from
the premises, because from them it cannot be collected,
that the name two-footed belongs to a man; and there-
fore, again, in every syllogism there can be but three
terms,
3. Of these terms, that which is the predicate in the
conclusion, is commonly called the major; that which is
the subject in the conclusion, the minor, and the other
is the middle term; as in this syllogism, a man is a liv-
ing creature, a living creature is a body, therefore, a
man is a body, body is the major, man the minor, and
living creature the middle term. Also of the premises,
that in which the major term is found, is called the
major proposition, and that which has the minor term,
the minor proposition.
*
8. The thoughts in the mind answering to a direct
syllogism, proceed in this manner ; first, there is con- ^, ^ ^^^^^ ^
__r 1 _ _t_ i..-.-.^ ^£ i.t^^ 4-UI»i«v *%nn^aA MrlfVi +Vinf ar*r»i- /
ceived a phantasm of the thing named, with that acci-
dent or quality thereof, for which it is in the minor
proposition called by that name which is the subject;
next, the mind has a phantasm of the same thing witii
that accident, or quality, for which it hath the name, that
in the same proposition is the predicate; thirdly, the
thought returns of the same thing as having that acci-
dent in it, for which it is called by the name, that is the
predicate of the major proposition; and lastly, remem-
berng that all those are the accidents of one and the
0^
Jl
38
ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
same thing, it concludes that those three names |ire also
names of one and the same thing ; that is to say, the con-
clusion is true. For example, when this syllogism is
made, man is a living creature, a living creature is a
body, therefore, man is a body, the mind conceives first
an image of a man speaking or discoursing, and remem-
bers that that, which so appears, is called man; then it'
has the image of the same man moving, and remembers
that that, which appears so, is called living creature;
thirdly, it conceives an image of the same man, as fill-
ing some place or space, and remembers, that what ap-
pears so is called body; and lastly, when it remembers
that that thing, which was extended, and moved and
spake, was one and the same thing, it concludes that
the three names, man, living creature, and body, are
names of the same thing, and that therefore man is a
living creature is a true proposition. From whence it is
manifest, that living creatures that have not the use of
speech, have no conception or thought in the mind, an-
swering to a syllogism made of universal propositions;
seeing it is necessary to think not only of the thing, but
also by turns to remember the divers names, which for
divers considerations thereof are applied to the same.
'
- »
M >
CHAPTER V.
OF ERRING, FALSITY, AND CAPTIONS.
I. Erring and falsity how they differ. Error of the mind by
itself without the use of words, how it happens.— 2. A seven-
fold incoherency of names, every one of which makes always
a false proposition.— [3. Examples of the first manner of mr
coherency.— 4. Of the second.— 5. Of the third.— 6. Of the
fourth.- 7. Of the fifth.— 8. Of the sixth.— 9. Of the sevr
cnth.]— 10. Falsity of propositions detected by resolving the
terms with definitions continued till they come to simple
"names, or names that are the most general of their kind.-r
[11. Of the fault of a syllogism consisting in the implication
of the terms with the copula.— 12. Of the fault which consists
in equivocation.— 13. Sophistical captions are oftener faulty
in the matter than in the form of syllogisms.]
I.
Men are subject to err not only in affirming and • i.* *-
xjt^-y^'-
denying, but also hi per ception, and in silent cogita-
tion.' In affirming and denying, when they call any T'^'^T
thing by a name, which is not the name thereof; as if
from seeing the ^un first by reflection in water, and
afterwards again directly in the firmament, we should
to both those appearances give the name of sun, and say
there are two suns; which none but men can do,
for no other living creatures have the use of names. This
kind of error only deserves the name of falsity, as aris-
ing, not from sense, nor from the things themselves,
but from pronouncing rashly; (for names have their/ ?^.
constitution, not from the species of things, but from the^^ J^
will and consent of men. A^d hence it comes to pass, ^,!^
that men pronounce falsely, by their own negligence, in
departing from such appellations of things_as are agreed
upon, and are not deceived neither by the things, nor by
lU^ 4^
1 Compare below the Leviathan, p. 124,
^U/. "Ta*- ^^
f . ,
«
-a-«.
'-^
40 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
the sense ; for they do not perceive that the thing they see
is called sun, but they gave it that name from their own
will and agreement. /Tacit errors, or the errors of sense
and cogitation, are made, by passing from one imagina-
tion to the imagination of another different thing ; or by
feigning that to be past, or future, which never was, nor
ever shall be ; as when, by seeing the image of the sun in
water, we imagine the sun itself to be there ; or by see-
ing swords, that there has been or shall be fighting, be-
cause it uses to be so for the most part ; or when from
promises we feign the mind of the promisor to be such
and such; or lastly, when from any sign we vainly im-
agine something to be signified, which is not. And er-
rors of this sort are common to all things that have sense ;
and yet the deception proceeds neither from our senses,
nor from the things we perceive; but from ourselves
while we feign such things as are but mere images to be
something more than images. But neither things, nor
imaginations of things, can be said to be false, seeing
they are truly what they are; nor do they, as signs, prom-
ise anything which they do not perform; for^t hey inde ed
do no t promise at al l, but we from them ; nor do the
clouds, but we, from seeing the clouds, say it shall rain.
The best way, therefore, to free ourselves from such er-
rors as arise from natural signs, is first of all, before we
begin to reason concerning such conjectural things, to sup-
pose ourselves ignorant, and then to make use of our
ratiocination; for these errors proceed from the want of
ratiocination; whereas, errors which consist in affirma-
tion and negation, (that is, the falsity of propositions)
proceed only from reasoning amiss. Of these, therefore,
as repugnant to philosophy, I will speak principally.^
,
2 Compare below the Leviathan, p. 135.
OF ERWKG, FALSITY. AND CAPTIONS 4t
a Errors which happen in reasoning, that is, in
syllogizing, consist either in the falsity of the prennses,
I, of the inference. In the first of these cases, a syllo-
eism is said to be faulty in the matier of it; and in the
Lond case, in the iorm. I will first consider the matter
namely, how many ways a proposition may be false ; and
next the form, and how it comes to pass, that when the
premises are true, the inference is, notwithstanding,
false. f ,
Seeing, therefore, that proposition only is true, (chap, i
III art. 7) in which are copulated two names of one ^
and the same thing; and that always false, in which I
names of different things are copulated, look how many /
ways names of different things may be copulated, and so
many ways a false proposition may be made.
Now, all things to which we give names, may be
reduced 'to these four kinds, namely, bodies, accxdents,
phantasms, and names themselves; and therefore, m
every true proposition, it is necessary that the names cop-
ulated, be both of them names of bodies, or both names of
accidents, or both names of phantasms, or both names of
names. For names otherwise copulated are incoherent,
and constitute a false proposition. It may happen, also,
that the name of a body, of an accident, or of a phan-
tasm mav be copulated with the name of a speech. So
that copulated names may be incoherent seven manner of
ways.*
The falsities of propositions in all these several man-
KTompare below the I^MAan, p. 136. Note Hobbe^' d^finitjonf \ t^
of fcody and accident. "Body is that, which having ""-X^ ) •
Vnce Zon our thought, is coifuidtut or coextended with *»«*
4t ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
ncrs, is to be discovered by the definitions of the copulated
names.
ID. But when names of bodies are copulated with
names of bodies, names of accidents with names of acci-
dents, names of names with names of names, and names
of phantasms with names of phantasms, if we, neverthe-
less, remain still doubtful whether such propositions are
true, we ought then in the first place to find out the defini-
tion' of both those names, and again the definitions of
OF ERRING. FALSITY. AND CAPTIONS
43
\
\
part of space." (M. I, 102). "They answer best that define an
accident to be the manner by which any body w conceived; which
is all one as if they should say, an accident is that faculty of any
body by which it works in us a conception of itself.
Wherefore, I define an accident to be the manner of our concep-
tion of body." (M. I, 103, 104). In general the term phan-
tasm with Hobbes is a generic term for any mental presentation,
synonyniQus__Brith ihe term idea in its common meanmg ; as for
instance, (M. T 92). "I say, therefore, there would remain to
^that man ideas of the world, and of all such bodies as he had,
, before their annihilation, seen with his eyes, or perceived by
any other sense; that is to say, the memory and imagination ot
magnitudes, motions, sounds, colours, &c. as also of their or-
, dcr and parts. All which things, though they be nothing but
( ideas and phantasms, happening internally to him that imagineth ;
(yet they will appear as if they were external, and not at all
depending upon any power of the mind." Also (M. I, 389).
"In the first place, therefore, the causes of our perception, that
is, the causes of those ideas and phantasms which are perpetual-
ly generated within us whilst we make use of our senses, are to
be enquired into." Occasionally the term is equivalent to after-
image; as for instance, (M. IV, 11-12), "There is yet another
kind of imagination, which for clearness contendeth with sense,
as well as a dream; and that is, when the action of sense hath
been long or vehement: and the experience thereof is more fre-
quent in the sense of seeing, than the rest. An example whereof
is, the image remaining before the eye after looking upon the sun.
Also, those little images that appear before the eyes in the dark
(whereof I think every man hath experience, but they most of
all, who are timorous or superstitious) are examples of the
same. And these, for distinction-sake, may be called phantasms."
Compare also below the Leviathan, p. 105, where speaking of
the same phenomena, he says that this "kind of fancy hath no
particular name." See also the Index.
1 ' 1
I
such names as are in the former definition, and so pro-
Sed Sy a continual resolution till we come to a simple
Tame that is. to the most general or --^ ---;'--
of that kind ; and if after all this, the truth or falsit>
1 eo be not evident, y. must search it out by ph.tos-
ophy and ratiocination, beginning from defimtions. For )
/SeSioposition^mnversally true, is eithe^ad^n. Uon^
( or ^rti^didtion. or the evidence of U depends upon )
I definitions.
II That fault of a syllogism which lies hid in the
form thereof, will always be found either in the ,mph-
cation of the copula with one of the terms, or -n the
eaXocation of Tome word ; and in either of these v ays
Se I wmbe four terms, which (as I have shewn) canno
STn a true syllogism. Now the implication of he
oHa wUh either te^n. is easily -detect^ by reducmg
the propositions to plain and clear predication, as (for
example) if any man should ai^e thus,
The hand toucheth the pen,
The pen toucheth the paper,
Therefore, The hand toucheth the paper;
the fallacy will easily appear by reducing it, thus:
The hand, is, touching the pen.
The pen, is, touching the paper,
Therefore, The hand, is, touching the paper;
where there are manifestly these four terms Jj.. ha^
touching the pen, the pen, and touching the paper But
the danger of being deceived by sophisms of this kind
does noT seem to be so great, as that I need msist longer
upon them.
12 And though there may be fallacy in equivocal
terms, yet in those that be manifestly such there is none
S nor in metaphors, for they profess the transfemng
^
/
f
44 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
of names from one thing to another. Nevertheless,
sometimes equivocals (and those not very obscure) may
deceive; as in this argumentation: — It belongs to meta-
physics to treat of principles; but the first principle of
all, is, that the same thing cannot both exist and not ex-
ist at the same time; and therefore it belongs to meta-
physics to treat whether the same thing may both exist
and not exist at the same time; where the fallacy lies in
the equivocation of the word principle ; for whereas Aris-
totle in the beginning of his Metaphysics, says, that the
treating of principles belongs to primary science, he un-
derstands by principles, causes of things, and certain ex-
istences which he calls primary; but where he says a
primary proposition is a principle, by principle, there, he
means the beginning and cause of knowledge, that is, the
understanding of words, which, if any man want, he is
incapable of learning.
13. But the captions of sophists and sceptics, by
which they were wont, of old, to deride and oppose truth,
were faulty for the most part, not in the form, but in the
matter of syllogism ; and they deceived not others oftener
than they were themselves deceived. For the force of
that famous argument of Zeno against motion, consisted
in this proposition, whatsoever may be divided into parts,
infinite in number, the same is infinite; which he, with-
out doubt, thought to be true, yet nevertheless is false.
For to be divided into infinite parts, is nothing else but
to be divided into as many parts as any man will. But
it is not necessary that a line should have parts infinite in
number, or be infinite, because I can divide and sub-
divide it as often as I please ; for how many parts soever
I make, yet their numbe): is finite; but because he that
says parts, simply, without adding how many, does not
limit any number, but leaves it to the determination of the
OF ERRING. FALSITY. AND CAPTIONS
45
hearer, therefore we say commonly, a "- ^^^^^f '^"^
i«finitelv • which cannot be true m any other sense.
'"' Ant 'tht much may suffice -cernrng syllo^sm^
t.. I, • oc \f were the first pace towards philosophy,
,^';ti;h'l aee:::d%: ^uch .!■. necessary to teach any
ma^ from whence all true argumentation has .ts force^
A^ o SlTrge this treatise with all that may be heaped
tgtSr wouTd be as superfluous, as if one shouW (as^^
sS bef;re) give a young child precepts for Ae t^chmg
of him to go; for the art of /-^°7f/^J°*Xro
learned by precepts as by practice, and ^y *e r^adm^ ot
those books in which the conclusions -^^^^^^^j
Svere demonstration. And so I pass on to the way
philosophy, that is. to the method of study.
OF METHOP
47
1
CHAPTER VI.
OF METHOD.
I. Method and science defined.— 2. It is more easily known con-
cerning singular, than universal things, that they are; and con-
trarily, it is more easily known concerning universal, than
singular things, why they are, or what are their causes. —
3. What it is philosophers seek to know. — 4. The first part, by
which principles are found out, is purely analytical. — 5. The
highest causes, and most universal in every kind, are known by
themselves. — 6. Method from principles found out, tending to
science simply, what it is. — 7. That method of civil and natural
science, which proceeds from sense to principles, is analytical ;
and again, that, which begins at principles, is synthetical. —
8. The method of searching out, whether any thing propounded
be matter or accident. — 9. The method of seeking whether
any accident be in this, or in that subject. — 10. The method of
searching after the cause of any effect propounded. — 11. Words
serve to invention, as marks; to demonstration, as signs. —
12. The method of demonstration is synthetical. — 13. Definitions
only are primary and universal propositions. — 14. The nature
and definition of a definition. — 15. The properties of a definition.
— 16. The nature of a demonstration. — 17. The properties* of a
demonstration, and order of things to be demonstrated. — 18.
— The faults of a demonstration. — 19. Why the analytical meth-
od of geometricians cannot be treated of in this place.
I. For the understanding of method, it will be neces-
sary for me to repeat the definition of philosophy, deliv-
ered above (Chap, i, art. 2,) in this manner, Philosophy
is the knowledge we acquire, by true ratiocination, of
appearances, or apparent effects, from the knowledge we
have of some possible production or generation of the
same; and of such production, cts has been or may be,
from the knowledge we have of the effects. Method,
therefore, in the study of philosophy, is the shortest way
of finding out effects by their known causes, or of^causes
by their known effects. But we are then said to ktfow
''*t
T
any effect, when wc know thai there he causes of the
same, and in what subject those causes are, and .» what
subject they produce that effect, and in what manner they^. ^,
2k the sL. And this is the science of causes or ,.
as they call it. of the «.-.. All other science, which .s _■ ,^,
called the ««, is either perception by sense, or the mi-
ration, or memory remaining after such percep-
*'°"The first beginnings, therefore, of knowledge, are the /
phantasms of sense and imagination; and that there be 'O ^
Lh phanti^^s we know well enough by n^t"- ; bu to
know why they be, or from what causes they proceed,
is the work of ratiocination; which consists (as is said
above, in the ist Chapter. Art. 2) in compos^t^on,^^
division or resolution. There is therefore no method
by which we find out the causes of things, but is either
compositive or resolutive, or partly composUtve, and
partly resolutive. And the resolutive is commonly called
imlytical method, as the compositive is called synthet^
" '2 It is common to all sorts of method, to proceed
from known things to unknown ; and this is manifest
from the cited definition of philosophy. But in knowl-
edge by sense, the whole object is more known, than any
pa^TtfaTTs when we see a man, the conception or
t *
„ V • (~i, I rsntr I also the following from
1 Compare above Ch. 1; /^'.Vere be two kinds of knowl-
and the latter experience men have from ^he prop^rj^^
names in language: and all experience bemg, as I have saia, du
remembrance, all knowledge is remembrance.
^1,*^-V<^
X
vf
ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
48
whole idea of that man is first orvmore known, than the
particular ideas of his being figurate, animate, and ration-
al; that is, we first see the whole man, and take notice
of his being, before we observe in him those other par-
ticulars. And therefore in any knowledge of the ore, or
that any tiling is, the beginning of our search is from
the whole idea; and contrarily, in our knowledge of the
9i6Tt, or of the causes of any thing, that is, in the
sciences, we have more knowledge of the causes of the
parts than of the whole. For the cause of the whole
is compounded of the causes of the parts ; but it is neces-
sary that we know the things that are to be compounded,
before we can know the whole compound. Now, by
parts, I do not here mean parts of the thing itself, but
parts of its nature ; as, by the parts of man, I do not un-
*«/ A*^i***^** ^crstand his head, his shoulders, his arms, &c. but his
OF METHOD
49
'Jj^ /J^
^J^'M^ .
figure, quantity, motion, sense, reason, and the like;
which accidents being compounded or put together, con-
stitute the wh ole na ture of man, but not the man him-
self. And this is the meaning of that common saying,
namely, that some things are more known to us, others
more known to nature; for I do not think that they,
which so distinguish, mean that something is known to
nature, which is known to no man; and therefore, by
those things, that are more known to us, we are to un-
derstand things we take notice of by our senses, and,
by more known to nature, those we acquire the knowl-
edge of by reason ; for in this sense it is, that the whole,
that is, those things that have universal names, (which,
for brevity's sake, I call universal) are more known to us
than the parts, that is, such things as have names less uni-
versal, (which I therefore call singular) ; and the causes
of the parts are more known to nature than the cause of
the whole ; that is, universals than singulars.
^
O-^fcr^i^
, In the study of philosophy, men search after ^
vL dthlr staply or indefinitely; that is. to know as
SrasC^rw^thoutpropoun^^^^^^^
United question ;/or they mqu^en^^^^^^^^ ^^^ ^^
determined appearance or enravour to
certainty of something in question, as what is the «
of S? of heat, of gravity, of a figure Vro?onM^^^
S^to this variety of things in question, sometimes the
Zi;iXetHoIi. to be used, and sometimes the syn-
thetical. rrr^^^^^
a But to those that search after science mdefinite^ ^
whith consists in the ^nowledf of J^e caus^^^^^^^^^^ Jl^u^A
things, as far forth as it may ''-"-";^' ^^^^^^^^^^^ «-^^
singular things are compounded of ^^t ^^T'/kn^the
saliiimpl^ngs) it is -"^^^JJ^^J^^J^^^^^ are r..
caiHirdT universal things, or of such ^^^^^'^-^^^t--: -
common to all bodies, that is_, to all "1^"^ ' ^^ ^5^
^novTSe causes of singular things, that is, of those
SdtntlbrSone thifg is ^^^^Xtt^^^-
other. And. again, they "^"^^ ^^^^^V^f ,1°!' "£e-
sal things are. before they can know their causey. More
over, seeing universal things are confined m the nat^e
Ts ngulafthings. the knowledge of the" isjo be a
quired byle^n, that is, by ^-^^'''^''- .^'X^S^^t
Lre be propounded a concej^^ ,°;:l^"i: to""solved .-
n^ilnr thine- as of a square, this square is lu i —
So a S tcrmnatJ^itH a -'-" --^^ ^71
and straight lines and right angles. For by this resolu
Sn we have these things universal or agreeable to all
« 1
^tu.4t^
^•^
''f/^
/
►V*'
«
^.^.-..^^v
^J^
u
.v*»--t^
so
ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
/
\
^^Vv^
matter, namelv, line, plain, (which contains superficies)
terminated, angle, straightness, rectitude, and equality;
and if we can find out the causes of these, we may com-
pound them altogether into the cause of a square.
Again, if any man propound to himself the conception
of gold, he may, by resolving, come to the ideas of solid,
visible, 'heavy, (that is, tending to the centre of the earth,
or downwards) and many other more universal than gold
itself ; and these he may resolve again, till he come to
such things as are most universal. /And in this manner,
by resolving continually, we may come to know what
those things are, whose causes being first known sever-
ally, and afterwards compounded, bring us to the knowl-
edge of singular things. \ I conclude, therefore, that the
method of attaining to the universal knowledge of
things, is purely analytical.
5. But the causes_of universal things (of those, at
least, that have any cause) are manif est oM hemselves,
or (as they say commonly) known to nature ; so that they
need no method at all ; for they have all but one universal
cause, which is motion. For the variety of all figures
arises out of the variety of those motions by which they
are made ; and motion cannot be understood to have any
other cause besides motion ; nor has the variety of those
things we perceive by sense, as of colours, sounds, sav-
ours, &c. any other cause than m.otion, residing partly in
the objects that work upon our senses, and partly in our-
selves, in such manner, as that it is manifestly some kind
of motion, though we cannot, without ratiocination, come
to know what kind. / For though many cannot understand
till it be in some sort demonstrated to them, that all
mutation consists in motion; yet this happens not from
any obscurity in the thing itself, (for it is not intelligible
that anything can depart either from rest, or from the
I
'
OF METHOD
SI
.• ;t has except by motion), but either by having
motion it has, except uy / former opinions
their natural discourse ^''""P^tf^^for 1^^^ they do
received from their masters, or else for ^is. mai t y
not at all bend their mind to the enquiring out of truth
fi Bv the knowledge therefore.oluniversals and o.
By *^ ™ „° the first ^ri^les by which wc
their causes (^^^/^ .*';,\ave in the first place their
know the 5««v>fH«ings; we n .„oiication of our
definitionCr^h are nortui^^^-^;^^ ^ ^^^^
simple concept>ons.) For cxamp ^^ ^^.^ ^^^^.^.^^^
SSSa i^-S .-. possessed or meS a,e,uately \
place IS mai y conceives motion aright,
'' r^ut Lw tlS «:o;Ln « iUe privation of one
S an^\X.-'-« of another. In the next place
a straight line. -^ ^^a^^a c.cu^^ w ^ ^^^^
what draws and by what wa) w ^^^^^^^^^ _^ ^^^
LX :Lsrin"a ::^r ^zz^t^:^
ider nothing in it besides its "potion; and - ^e Pr^^^
cntly that this makes a line, or length nexyhat
tion of a long body P-duce^' ^^^^ what the eflects of
ficies ; and so forwards, till we ^ee w ^
simple motion are; and then, in ^l^^^^J^^^^^r.,
observe what proceeds fron^ ^J^ f^^ions, and what ef-
subtraction, and division, of ^^se motio , _ ^^^e;
fects, what figures, and wha P/^P^J^l^^J^/p.rt of
from which kind of contemplation sprung that p
philosophy which is called geometry.
XX
'^
tc
KS*^-*-
'c^
^
p ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
From this consideration of what is produced by sim-
ple motion, we are to pass to the consideration of what
effects one body moved worketh upon another; and be-
cause there may be motion in all the several parts of a
body, yet so as that the whole body remain still in the
same place, we must enquire first, what motion causcth
such and such motion in the whole, that is, when one
body invades another body which is either at rest or in
motion, what way, and with what swiftness, the mvaded
body shall move; and, again, what motion this second
body will generate in a third, and so forwards. From
which contemplation shall be drawn that part of philos-
ophy which treats of motion.
In the third place we must proceed to the enquiry of
such effects as are made by the motion of the parts of
any body, as, how it comes to pass, that things when
they are the same, yet seem not to be the same, but
changed. And here the things we search after are sen-
sibl^ qualities, such as light, colour, transparency, opa-
city, sounds odour, savour, heat, cold, and the like ; which
because they cannot be known till we know the causes
of sense itself, therefore the consideration of the causes
of seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching, be-
longs to this third place; and all those qualities and
changes, above mentioned, are to be referred tojhfi. fourth.
, /place ; which two considerations comprehend that part of
^ philosophy which is called physics. And in these four
parts is contained whatsoever in natural philosophy may
be explicated by demonstration, properly so called. For
if a cause were to be rendered of natural appearances in
special, as, what are the motions and influences of the
heavenly bodies, and of their parts, the reason hereof
must either be drawn from the parts of the sciences
above mentioned, or no reason at all will be given, but
all left to uncertain conjecture.
r
OF METHOD
SS
After physics we must come to moral philosophy; m
which we are to consider the motions ofthe_mmd,
namely, appetite, aversion, love, benevolence, hope, fear
anger, emulation, envy, &c,; what causes they have, and
^of what they be causes. And the reason why these are t
to be considered after physics is, that they have their
causes in sense andjmagination, which are the subject of ^
physical coTitiiii^lation. Also the reason, why all these
things^e to be searched after in the order above-said,
is that physics cannot be understood, except we know
fi^st what motions arejn the.sipallest parts of^bodies ; nor |
such mod^n of parts, till we know whatJUs thatmakes
another body move ; nor this, till we know^w^atsunple
motiolTv^ eff^ And because all appearance of things
to seii^e is'd^termined, and made to be of such and such
quality and quantity by compounded motions, every one
of which has a certain degree of velocity, and a certam
and determined way; therefore, in the first place we are
to search out the ways of motion simply (in which geom-
etry consists) ; next the wa^s oi sucIl generated motions
as are manifest; and, lastly, the ways of internal and in-
Msible motions (which is the enquiry of natural philos- <
ophers). And, therefore, they that study natural philoso-
phy, study in vain, except they begin at geometry; and
such writers or disputers thereof, as are ignorant of
geometry, do but make their readers and hearers lose
their time.
7 Civil and moral philosophy do not so adhere to
one another, but that they may be severed. For the
causes of the motions of the mind are known, not only
-by ratiocination, but also by the experience of every man
that takes the pains to observe those motions withm him-
^ self. And, therefore, not only they that have attuned
the knowledge of the passions and perturbations of the
1
t
54
ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
mind, by the synthetical method, and from the very first
principles of philosophy, may by proceeding in the same
way, come to the caus es an d jiecess ity of constituting
commonwealths, and to get the knowledge of what is nat-
ural righ t, and wha t are civil du ties ; and, in every kind
of government, what arej fie rights of the com monwealth,
and all other knowledge appertaining to civil philosophy ;
for this reason, that the principles of the politics consist
in the knowledge of the motions of the mind, and the
knowledge of these motions from the knowledge of
sense and imagination; but even they also that have
\ not learned the first part of philosophy, namely,
geometry^ and physics, may, notwithstanding, attain the
\
principles of civil philosophy, by the analytical method.
For if a question be propounded, as, whether such an ac-
tion be just or unjust; if that unjust be resolved into fact
against law, and that notion law into the command of him
or them that have coercive power; and that power be de-
rived from the wills of men that constitute such power,
to the end they may live in peace, they may at last come
to this, that the appetites of men and the passions of their
minds are such, that, unless they be restrained by some
power, they will always be making war upon one another ;
which may be known to be so by any man's experience,
that will but examine his own mind. And, therefore,
from hence he may proceed, by compounding, to the de-
termination of the justice or injustice of any propounded
action. So that it is manifest, by what has been said,
that the method of philosophy, to such as seek science
simply, without propounding to themselves the solution
iof any particular question, is partly analytical, and partly
synthetical ; namely, that which pr oceed s from sense to
the inven tion of principles, analy tical ; and the rest syn-
thetical.
OF METHOD »
8 To those that seek the cause of some certain and
propounded appearance or effect, it happens, sometimes.
JhThey know not whether the thing, whose cause «
lought after, be matter or body, or some accident of »
Wv For tkough in geometry, when the cause is sought
Tmaenitude, or proportion, or figure, it be certainly
knownC tese things, namely ma^itude, .roporUon
andlgure. are accidents ; yet in naturaLphjlosophy, ^^here )
aU quStiom are concerning the cajis^ofthejh^tasms
of sensTSkThiHpnTis not so easy to discern between
the-^ferSimselves, from which those phantoms pro-
feed and the appearances of those things to the sense;
whth have deceived many, especially when the phar.
Tasms have been made by light, ^^^^^^'^^f^^
that looks upon the sun, has a certain shining dea of the
magnlde of about a foot over, and this he .^Us Ae sun.
ToSh he know the sun to be truly a great deal bigger;
and.ln like manner, the phantasm of the same thing ap-
L;s sometimes round, by being seen afar off, and some-
Snes square, by being nearer. Whereupon it may well
Sedoubted, wlfether that P^anta- be matter or some
body natural, or only some accident of a body . in t^e
examination of which doubt we may «>«- A'^^ "^^^^^
The properties of matter and accidents already found
out bv us by the synthetical method, from their defim-
ti^s 'arTio be compared with the idea we have before us ;
and if it agree with the properties «! -f - ^^f iht"
it is a body; otherwise it is an accident. Seem^ Aere^
fore, matter cannot by any endeavor of ours be either
made or destroyed, or increased or dimmished or moved
out of its place, whereas that idea appears, vamshes is
increased and diminished, and moved hither and thither
at pleasure; we may certainly conclude that it ,s not a
body, but an accident only. And this method is syn-
thetical.
ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
9. But if there be a doubt made concerning the sub-
ject of any known accident (for this may be doubted some-
times, as in the precedent example, doubt may be made in
what subject that splendour and apparent magnitude of
the sun is), then our enquiry must proceed in this manner.
First, matter in general must be divided into parts, as,
into object, medium, and the sentient itself, or such other
parts as seem most conformable to the thing propounded.
Next, these parts are severally to be examined how they
agree with the definition of the subject; and such of
them as are not capable of that accident are to be rejected.
For example, if by any true ratiocination the sun be
found to be greater than its apparent magnitude, then
that magnitude is not in the sun ; if the sun be in one de-
termined straight line, and one determined distance, and
the magnitude and splendour be seen in more lines and
distances than one, as it is in reflection or refraction, then
neither that splendour nor apparent magnitude are in the
sun itself, and, therefore, the body of the sun cannot be
the subject of that splendour and magnitude. And for
the same reasons the air and other parts will be rejected,
till at last nothing remain which can be the subject of that
splendour and magnitude but the sentient itself. And this
method, in regard the subject is divided into parts, is
analytical ; and in regard the properties, both of the sub-
ject and accident, are compared with the accident con-
cerning whose subject the enquiry is made, it is syn-
thetical.
10. But when we seek after the cause of any pro-
pounded effect, we must in the first place get into our
mind an exact notion or idea of that which we call
cause, namely, that a cause is the sum or a^gre^ate of all
such accidents, both in the agents and the patient, as con-
cur to the producing of the effect propounded; all
OF METHOD
57
nrhich existing together, it cannot be understood but
tithe etc^^^^^^^^ «-'^^ ^^^-' '' ''''' '' ^"" T '
tisti Inyone of them be absent.^ This bemg known,
n the next place we must examine singly every acci-
dent that accompanies or precedes the effect, as far forth
~ .On Hobbe7doctnne of causation compare the following
selections: Elements Philosophy. (MI, 1201.;
" '^A body is said to work upon or a.^ tha^^^^^^^^^^^
thin, to another body wh^^^^^^^^^ ,^
some accident in it . ana .'"« """i ... ; to have something
erated or destroyed is said t°fXn one body by putting for-
done to it by another body : as ^n"f„ "f^^j/is'^ called the
other, their action and passion ^^^J^^^^f ly°ng betwixt the
otherwise. meduitc;_ and '"^'^^J''°}^Z^U^t\^!ith then itself
agent and patient is '=°" '8"°"| ^^ n^^;^^^^^^^^^ of the body
both an aeent and a patient . »" a«"^ '^ ti^„t ;„ aspect of
next after it, upon wh.'* "' J^^feu^ sulers Also, if many
the body next ^^^f? '*' *~" two A''^ "^ ""'^ *° °"' *"^
bodies be so O'-'J"'"! that every two wmcn ^^^^ ^^^
^L^arffaVlltTal^S^anlL first is an agent
only, and the last a patient only. determined or ccr-
it is a body, but because such a XLdLsainS would produce
wise all agents, seeing they f ^/» X" the fire for example,
like effects in all patients A"<1 th^^j^J^'^^aJ^e it is hot; nor
does not warm, because it is ''^^P^y-jX because it is a body,,
does one body .put f°^*?rd another tod^ that other body. rthe>
but because it is "oved .p rte place of that o ^^^^.y ^^^.
cause, therefore, of an f "*"/ tients : which when they are
dents both in the agents and in the patients , wn c ^
all Pre->;J.,f„y«-*du«l"anTthat\cciLt"^ither of the agent ,
wanting, it is not proaucea , anu produced, is
$8
ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
as it seems to conduce in any manner to the production
of the same, and see whether the propounded effect may
be conceived to exist, without the existence of any of
those accidents; and by this means separate such acci-
dents, as do not concur, from such as concur to produce
the said effect ; which being done, we are to put together
the concurring accidents, and consider whether we can
possibly conceive, that when these are all present, the
effect propounded will not follow ; and if it be evident
that the effect will follow, then that aggregate of acci-
cidents both of the agents how many soever they be, and of
the patient, put together; which when they are all supposed to
be present, it cannot be understood but that the effect is pro-
duced at the same instant; and if any one of them be wanting, it
cannot be understood but that the effect is not produced.
"The aggregate of accidents in the agent or agents, requisite
for the production of the effect, the effect being produced, is called
the efficient cause thereof; and the aggregate of accidents in the
patient, the effect being produced, is usually called the mater-
tal cause; I say the effect being produced; for where there is
no effect, there can be no cause; for nothing can be called a
cause, where there is nothing that can be called an effect. But
the efficient and material causes are both but partial causes, or
parts of that cause, which in the next precedent article I called
an entire cause. And from hence it is manifest, that the effect we
expect, though the agents be not defective on their part, may
nevertheless be frustrated by a defect in the patient; and when
the patient is sufficient, by a defect in the agents.
"An entire cause is always sufficient for the production of
its effect, if the effect be at all possible. For let any effect
whatsoever be propounded to be produced; if the same hji pro-
duced, it is manifest that the cause which oroduced it was a
sufficient cause ; but if it be not produced, and yet be possible,
it is evident that something was wanting either in some agent,
or in the patient, without which it could not be produced ; that
is, that some accident was wanting which was requisite for its
production; and therefore, that cause was not entire, which is
contrary to what was supposed.
"It follows also from hence, that in whatsoever instant the
cause is entire, in the same instant the effect is produced. For
if it be not produced, something is still wanting., which is
requisite for the production of it; and therefore the cause was
not entire, as was supposed.
I
Of METHOD
59
dents is the entire cause, otherw.se not; but we must strfl
search out and put together other acadents. ^For ex-
amS if the cause of light be propounded to be sough
^ut first, we examine things without us, and find
tot whensoever light appears, there is some pnncpal
)
I
\
^ .-And .«I.J . "X7.= 't» tf~! £.'«;
th-iT^"'." frn^ ' thb *Tarwh?nt"ever the cause is entire, the
tion and the Produc^fon of effects cons.st m a ^ert .^ ^^^
the patient, upon which they work is =°f ^"^' y^.^^^es more
bodies as are next to it, and ^gam, of such other K.o
&V° *S'lutira^g«-ntThara1. ^JtiT S^ m motion
alreaay no luue s further demonstrated m the
the beeinn°ng and cause are taken for the same thing. But «very
one of The fntermediate parts are both action and Pf''"". »"'*
cause and effect, according as they are compared with the ante-
cedent or subsequent part. . . .
"There can be no cause of motion, except m. a ^^y ^on
empty. orT if filled, filled with another body which is at rest,
ELFMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
/
object, as it were the fou ntain o f light, without which
we cannot have any perception of light; and, therefore,
the concurrence of that object is necessary to the gen-
eration of light./ Next we consider the medium, and find,
that unless it be disposed in a certain manner, namely,
a that i t be tra nsparent, though the object remain the same,
and let one of the propounded bodies be supposed to be at rest ;
I say it shall always be at rest. For if it shall be moved, the
cause of that motion, by the 8th chapter, article 19, will be some
external body; and, therefore, if between it and that external
body there be nothing but empty space, then whatsoever the dis-
position be of that external body or of the patient itself, yet if
it be supposed to be now at rest, we may conceive it will con-
tinue so till it be touched by some other body. But seeing cause,
by the definition, is the aggregate of all such accidents, which
being supposed to be present, it cannot be conceived but that the
effect will follow, those accidents, which are either in external
bodies, or in the patient itself, cannot be the cause of future
motion. And in like manner, seeing we may conceive that what-
soever is at rest will still be at rest, though it be touched by
some other body, except that other body be moved; therefore
in a contiguous body, which is at rest, there can be no cause of
motion. Wherefore there is no cause of motion in any body, ex-
cept it be contiguous and moved.
"The same reason may serve to prove that whatsoever is
moved, will always be moved on in the same way and with the
same velocity, except it be hindered by some other contiguous
and moved body; and consequently that no bodies, either when
they are at rest, or when there is an interposition of vacuum,
can generate or extinguish or lessen motion in other bodies.
There is one that has written that things moved are more re-
sisted by things at rest, than by things contrarily moved ; for this
reason, that he conceived motion not to be so contrary to motion
as rest. That which deceived him was, that the words rest and
motton are but contradictory names; whereas motion, indeed, is
not resisted by rest, but by contrary motion.
'But if a bodv work upon another body -at one time, and af-
terwards the same body work upon the same body at another
time so that both the agent and patient, and all their parts, be
in all things as they were; and there be no difference, except
only in time, that is, that one action be former, the other later in
time; it is manifest of itself, that the effects will be equal and
like, as not differing in anything besides time. And as effects
themselves proceed from their causes, so the diversity of them
PJJV? "P^" ^^ diversity of their causes also.
This being true, it is necessary that mutation can be nothing
OF METHOD "
vet the effect will not follow; and, therefore,^the coih
currence of transparency is also necessary to the gener-
ation of light. Thirdly, we observe our own body^ and
find that by the indisposition of the eyes, the brain he
nerves, and the heart, that is, by obstructions stupid ty
and d;bility, we are deprived of light, so that a fi ting
disposition of the organs to receive impressions from
to our senses otherwise than it appeared lorm^ ^^^
both those appearances are effects P;°<»""'i '" ' by the preced-
therefore, if they be ««""'''' 'I t^fS' ^Lh was for-
ing article, that either some P^.^ of Ae^ent^n j^^^ .^ ^^.^
merly at rest, is now moved *J^rsTormerrmoved, is now other-
rH=ri» vrp,3j» p.|-«r;;
tion, howsoever it be made wil consist in x .^^^
^^:rc^^«tttio?;9^e3on^^^^^
parts n'''^^ °* *rtr«iis^t°is*'onCent tSafrest cannot
^Te caise' of anytWng nor can any action proceed from it;
^^S -l^^s r ief o"f"^?^^^5d^^^^^^^^^^^^
as upon their causes, are called fonwg"" generated; for,
respect of those accidents by ^^^ not^g^^
ITec^X; forofcise'tSy would have no causes at all; which.
°* */'li?«^« nof '*"Som°e' man" may ask whether those future
thinS-wU^^^e colZonly caUed^ -^'hat? ^h^rn^-
otSr events, upon >"h.ch they do n^ depend, as tne ^,^^^^^^
shall be tomorrow, shall ^«'\f?.^I^i.by chance, because we
causes; but we think and ^y'\^!^^T\u^„^h the^ exist now;
OS
ELFMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
OF METHOD
63
without is likewise a necessary part of the cause of
light. Again, of all the accidents inherent in the ob-
ject, there is none that can conduce to the effecting of
light, but only action (or a certain motion), which can-
not be conceived to be wanting, whensoever the effect is
present ; for, that anything may shine, it is not requisite
that it be of such or such magnitude or figure, or that
the whole body of it be moved out of the place it is in
thing be done or no, they say it is possible it never was done."
(M. I, 131). "The writers of metaphysics reckon up two
other causes besides the efficient and material, namely, the es-
sence, which some call the formal cause, and the end, or final
cause; both which are nevertheless efficient causes. For
when it is said the essence of a thing is the cause thereof, as to
be rational is the cause of man, it is not intelligible; for it is
all one, as if it were said, to be a man is the cause of man;
which is not well said. And yet the knowledge of the essence
of anything, is the cause of the knowledge of the thmg itself;
for, if I first know that a thing is rational, I know from thence,
that the same is man; but this is no other than an efficient
cause. A final cause has no place but in such things as have
sense and will."
(M. I, 411-412). "If [the world] had a beginning, then by
what cause and of what matter it was made; and again, from
whence that cause and that matter had their being, will be new
questions ; till at last we come to one or many eternal cause or
causes. And the determination of all these things belongeth
to him that professeth the universal doctrine of philosophy, in
case as much could be known as can be sought. But the knowl-
edge of what is infinite can never be attained by a finite in-
quirer. Whatsoever we know that are men, we learn it from
our phantasms; and of infinite, whether magnitude or time,
there is no phantasm at all ; so that it is impossible either for a
man or any other creature to have any conception of infinite.
And though a man may from some effect proceed to the im-
mediate cause thereof, and from that to a more remote cause,
and so ascend continually by right ratiocination from cause to
cause; yet he will not be able to proceed eternallv, but wearied
will at last give over, without knowing whether it were possible
for him to proceed to an end or not. * * * The questions
therefore about the magnitude and beginning of the world, are
not to be determined by philosophers, but by those that are law-
fully authorized to order the worship of God. For as Almighty
God, when he had brought his people into Judea, allowed the
(unless it may perhaps be said, that m the sun. or othef
body, that which causes light is the light it hath in itself
which yet is but a trifling exception, seeing nothing is
meant thereby but the cause of light; as ,f any man
should say that the cause of light is that m the sun which
produceth it) ; it remains, therefore, th^ttiie^^t.^ by ^
which lightis generated, is motion onlzm thej)arls of the ^ <^
object. WhiclTbeing understood, we may easily con-
ceive what it is the mediu m, contributes namely^thecon- (^ .
tinuation of that motion to the eye; and, lastly, what the
eye and the rest of the organs of the sentient contrib-
ute, namely, the continuatJonjqLthejam^motion.to_Jhe <.
last organ^oLsense, th_ej^rt. And in this manner ^
cause of TigMiii^be made up of motion contmued fr<^
the original of the same motion, to the origmal of vita^
motion, light being nothing but the alteration of vital
all hU attributes signify °''l.'"'''''''l''^tdn!f^y^^t^°i''o:^'J:s'Z
of our memory, whereby we •"^B^^ter to ^^^
own inventions ; but not as -JJ- ^yj^f rphilosopher
same to others; so that a "^^" ^^^ J'^^P ,,,d this
^ ^utt'te^tSaHl tX^strate. supp.es
two at ihe least, and syllogistical speech.
... And seeing ^i;^;^^^:^^
tions. m that track by w ^^^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^
our own mmd there^e ; demonstration to
for our invention, will serve also tor ^^^
others, saving that wc omit ^e fir t part
demonstrated; and «^""g ^^ j . ^ „eed no demon-,
was said a^ve in the 5th *™<^'^{ \^ ^ole meth-^
stration. though they need "P^'-^f ^^^ ^"^^^ consisting'
od. therefore. oMe-nstr^^^^ ^^^'^^primar, or . V
of that order of speech ^""'" . \-— nam'fest of them-
..ost.unLversaliroposmo^^^^^^^^ ,f p,op-
selves, and proceeds by a perpetu P ^^^^^^^^„,i
ositions into syllogisms, till at !*«* tne
the truth of the conclusion sought after.
,3. How. such principles --*^^. b- d^n.
tions." whereof there ^^ ,^^^ /?;'; ^.^^eivable cause,
that signify such thmgs as ^ave ome con^ei ^^^^^
and another of such "---/^..^'^^.^ "f the former
we can conceive no cause at all. Barnes o
~ , „ ■ „ from Philosophical Rudiments,
a Compare the following fr°m ^m ^ ^^^ ^^^^„ ,„.
(M. II, 305), '''r'''=„^,=?d'eT rc°"' ^'^''''''''^
}
i^
^
66
ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
OF METHOD
67
kind are, body, or matter, quantity, or extension, mO'
Hon, and whatsoever is common to all matter. Of the
second kind, are such a body, such and so great motion,
so great magnitude, such figure, and whatsoever we can
distinguish one body from another by. And names of
the former kind are well enough defined, when, by
speech as short as may be, we raise in the mind of the
hearer perfect and clear ideas or conceptions of the things
named, as when we define motion to be the leaving of
one place, and the acquiring of another continually;
for though no thing moved, nor any cause of motion be
in that definition, yet, at the hearing of that speech, there
will come into the mind of the hearer an idea of motion
clear enough. But definitions of things, which may be
understood to have some cause, must consist of such
names as express the cause or manner of their generation,
as when we define a circle to be a figure made by the cir-
cumduction of a straight line in a plane, &c. (besides
definitions, there is no other proposition that ought to be
called primary, or. (according to severe truth) be re-
ceived into the number of principles.^/ I'^or those
axioms of Euclid, seeing they may be demonstrated, are
no principles of demonstration, though they have by the
consent of all men gotten the authority of principles, be-
cause they need not be demonstrated. Also, those peti-
* Compare the following from Elements of Philosophy, (M.
' ^v^* ''^/****^^y [proposition] is that wherein the subject is
explicated by a predicate of many names, as man is a body an-
imated, rational; for that which is comprehended in the name
man, is more largely expressed in the names body, animated and
rational, joined together; and it is called primary, because it is
first m ratiocination ; for nothing can be proved, without under-
standing^ first the name of the thing in question. Now primary
propositions arc nothing but definitions, or parts of definitions,
and these only are the principles of demonstration, being truths
constituted arbitrarily by the inventors of speech, and therefore
not to be demonstrated."
)
I
Hons. or postulata, (as they call them) though tiiey be
^^iplesf yet they are not principles of demonstm.on
but of construction only; that is. not of science but of
power; or (which is all one) not of theorans, which are
sneTulatLs but of problems, which belong to pract.ce.
orh Sg of sonfething. But as for those -mmon
received opfnions. Nature abhors vaeuUy. Nature doth
nothing in vain, and the like, which are neither evident
; t^selves. nor at all to be demonstrated and wh.d.
are oftener false than true, they are much less to be ac
knowledged for principles. ■
To return, therefore, to definitions; the reason why >
I say that the caus,e_and_£eneration of such things as
TZiJns, is this. The end of -eWB^^^^tra-
tion of the causes_^nd^generations of things; which if
hey be not in the definitions, they cannot be found in *e
V conclusion of the first syllogism, that is made from those
) definitions ; and if they be not in the first conclus-^' ^^
' will not be found in any further conclusion deduced from
Tha • and, therefore, by proceeding in this manner, we
2l n^ver come to science ; which is against the scopej
and intention of demonstration.'
T. Now seeing definitions (as I have said) are ^^t^ ^vv.
•^;i.f r; onmaWopositions, they are therefore -U^l^r^.
^ t Z seeSS^are used for the raising of an W^.^. -
r r-e^;^:g'in^hUind of the^i^^^^^^^^^ ^^^.^
ever that thing has a name, the defimtion of it can be I
» Compare the following from 5U ^^X^t'arf thol^ whkh
212). "Of true and evident on. the^e
needs no further controversy betw.xt them it bemg
all one as if he refused ^^ ^ '^^^^^.^t iLty-
understand nothing, then certainly the ^^^^-^^J'^l;,
fnr the nature of a definition consists m this, that it ex
Sit a clet^ea of the thing defined; and principles -
either known by themselves, or else they are not pnn
ciples.
Fourthly, that, in philosophy, definitions are before de-
And this general tern, the School caUs «.«».. and the^r-t™"J
difference. This. I say, is a 8°°<*.^"'' ^"^^^ot admit a more gen-
some words are so general, that they cannoi a
eral in their definition.
ij^lf O/u^-U. 1^ lUlZLoZt KycJ)^>^>-r - M^ =^ai-f-^ ^ <'-^^^:t^
i
TO
ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
fined names. For in teaching philosophy, the first begin-
ning is from definitions ; and all progression in the same,
till we^c^neJoJhe--kHowkdge of the thing compounded,
is xcafiposltiver Seeing, therefore, definition is the expli-
cation of a compounded name by resolution, and the pro-
gression is from the parts to the compound, definitions
must be understood before compounded names; nay,
when the names of the parts of any speech be expli-
cated, it is not necessary that the definition should be a
name compounded of them. For example, when these
names, equilateral, quadrilateral, right-angled, are suf-
ficiently understood, it is not necessary in geometry that
there should be at all sudi a name as square; for defined
names are received in philosophy for brevity's sake only.
Fifthly, that compounded names, which are defined
one way in some one part of philosophy, may in another
part of the same be otherwise defined ; as a parabola and
an hyperbole have one definition in geometry, and another
in rhetoric ; for definitions are instituted and serve for the
understanding of the doctrine which is treated of. And,
therefore, as in one part of philosophy, a definition may
have in it some one fit name for the more brief explana-
tion of some proposition in geometry ; so it may have the
same liberty in other parts of philosophy ; for the use of
names is particular (even where many agree to the set-
of them) and arbitrary.
Sixthly, that no name can be defined bv any one word •
because no one word is sufficient for the resolving of one
or more words.
Seventhly, that a defined name ought not to be repeat-
ed in the definition. For a defined name is the whole
compound, and a definition is the resolution of that com-
pound into parts ; but no total can be part of itself.
i6. Any two definitions, that may be compounded
into a syllogism, produce a conclusion; which, because it is
OF METHOD
derived from principles, that is, from definitions, is said
to be demonstrated ; and the derivation or composition
itself is called a demonstration. In like manner, if a syl-
logism be made of two propositions, whereof one is a defi-
nition, the other a demonstrated conclusion, or ^e^^J^^ ^J
them is a definition, but both formerly demonstrated, that
syllogism is also called a demonstraUon, and so succes-
sively The definition therefore of a demonstration is
this, a demonstration is a syllogism, or series of syllo-
Zisms, derived and continued, from the deHmtions of
lames, to the last conclusion. And from hence it may
be understood, that all true ratiocination, which taketh its
beginning from true principles, produceth science, and
is true demonstration. For as ^or the original of
the name, although that, which the Greeks called
inoSetet^, and the Latins demonstrate, was understood
by them for that sort only of ratiocination, in which, by
the describing of certain lines and figures, they placed the
thing they were to prove, as it were before men s eyes,
which is properly d^odetxvuetv, or to shew by the figure ;
yet they seem to have done it for this reason, that unless
it were in geometry, (in which only there is place for
such figures) there was no ratiocination certain and end-
ing in science, their doctrines concerning all other things
being nothing but controversy and clamour; which nev-
ertheless, happened, not because the truth to which th^y
pretended could not be made evident without ^^^f ' J^^
. because they wanted true principles, from which they
mieht derive their ratiocination ; and, therefore, there is
no reason but that if true definitions were pre-
mised in all sorts of doctrines, the demonstrations also
would be true.^
T Compare the' following from Si, kfd'ZtrfinA^oJtrl
183-184). "Of arts, some arc demonstrable, others mdcmonsira
li
73
ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
OF METHOD
73
17. It is proper to methodical demonstration,
First, that there be a true succession of one reason to
another, according to the rules of syllogizing delivered
above.
Secondly, that the premises of all syllogisms be dem-
onstrated from the first definitions."
Thirdly, that after definitions, he that teaches or dem-
onstrates any thing, proceed in the same method by which
he found it out; namely, that in the first place those
things be demonstrated, which immediately succeed to uni-
versal definitions (in which is contained that part of
philosophy which is called philosophia prima). ^ Next,
ble; and demonstrable are those the construction of the subject
whereof is in the power of the artist himself, who, in his demon-
stration, does no more but deduce the consequences of his own
operation. The reason whereof is this, that the science of every
subject is derived from a precognition of the causes, generation,
and construction of the same; and consequently where the
causes are known, there is place for demonstration, but not
where the causes are to seek for. Geometry therefore is demon-
strable, for the lines and fieures from which we reason are
drawn and described by ourselves; and civil philosophy is
demonstrable, because we make the commonwealth ourselves.
But because of natural bodies we know not the construction, but
seek it from the effects, there lies no demonstration of what the
causes be we seek for, but only of that what they may be."
* Compare the f llowing from Six Lessons, ec. (M. VII,
211-212). "There be but two causes from which can spring an
error in the demonstration of any conclusion in any science
whatsoever; and those are ignorance or want of understanding,
and negligence. For as in the adding together of many and
great numbers, he cannot fail that knoweth the rules of addition,
and is also all the way so careful, as not to mistake one num-
ber or one place for another ; so in any other science, he that is
perfect in the rules of logic, and is so watchful over his pen. as
not to put one word for another, can never fail of making a true,
though not perhaps the shortest and easiest demonstration. The
rules of demonstration are but of two kinds : one, that the prin-
ciples be true and evident definitions; the other, that the infer-
ences be necessary."
•Compare the following from the Leviathan. (M. HI,
671). "There is a certain philosophia prima, on which all
i
^. things which .ay be ^^^^^^'l^tT^.
(in which geometry c^ns-^^^ ^^^^^ LnifesV action,
things as may be taught or ^^^^^'^ ^.zrds And after
that is. by thrusting from, or P^l^-^Sj^^^^Sy,^^^^ of
these, the motion or -^^f^^JJ^^J^^^J, and of
things, and the doctnne of sen e '^"^ imag. ^^.^^
the internal passions, especially those ot me ,
are comprehended the ^^IjJj^^^^^eS that this
philosophy; which takes -Pti^ela^^^ .^ ^^._
methl«l . n,otion, action, pas-
p^w^r, act, finite, '"to"' ^"^"*7\o^"the 'Explaining of a mans
sion, and divers others, "««*4"y°a„d generation oJE bodies
conceptions concerning '^^^^f-^l.tions etc. (M. VII. 226).
Also the following * ■•°n'. •^/'^.h? seed aAd no part of the har-
"Words understood ""^.^t. seed wiisT which Aristotle went
vest of philosophy, ^n^ t^'J'of m//o/. .y«", and in his eight
about to sow in his twelve ^"^^ ?\'^,„^j philosophy. And m
books concerning the h«?""S°' "distance or Essence, quan-
Aese books he defineth t'«Vhfncrm ght be ttken the definitions
tity, relation. &c., that from thence migM d ^^^^^^^ „j
of he most general words for principles in ^^^^^^ ^^^ .
science. So that all definitions I^f°"^° jt^ he may properly
standing ; of which, if any man "g"'y T'J '.^e seeds, or the
caUhb writing philosophu, /"^'j^^^^ethod I have used, de-
grounds of philosophy. And *'S '*. ^^'.^ „ost general appella-
fi^ng place, magnitude and Ae other the m^^ ^^^^ ,3,
1
74
ELE?^ENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
OF METHOD
7S
1 8. Besides those paralogisms, whose fault lies either
in the falsity of the premises, or the want of true com-
position, of which I have spoken in the precedent chapter,
there are two more, which are frequent in demonstration ;
one whereof is commonly called petitio principii;
the other is the supposing of a false cause; and
these do not only deceive unskilful learners, but
sometimes masters themselves, by making them
take that for well demonstrated, which is not
demonstrated at all. Petitio principii is, when the
conclusion to be proved is disguised in other words, and
put for the definition or principle from whence it is to
be demonstrated; and thus, by putting for the cause of
the thing sought, either the thing itself or some effect of
it, they make a circle in their demonstration. As for ex-
ample, he that would demonstrate that the earth stands
still in the center of the world, and should suppose the
earth's gravity to be the cause thereof, and define
gravity to be a quality by which every heavy body
tends towards the center of the world, would lose his la-
bour ; for the question is, what is the cause of that quali-
ty in the earth? and, therefore, he that supposes gravity
to be the cause, puts the thing itself for its own cause.
Of a false cause I find this example in a certain treatise
where the thing to be demonstrated is the motion of the
earth. He begins, therefore, with this, that seeing the
earth and the sun are not always in the same situation,
it must needs be that one of them be locally moved, which
is true ; next, he afiirms that the vapours, which the sun
raises from the earth and sea, are, by reason of this mo-
tion, necessarily moved, which also is true ; from whence
he infers the winds are made, and this may pass for grant-
ed ; and by these winds he says, the waters of the sea arc
moved, and by their motion the bottom of the sea, as if it
were beaten forwards, moves round ; and let this also be
granted ; wherefore, he concludes, the earth .s moved
which is, nevertheless, a paralogism. For, .f that ^vmd
were the cause why the earth was. from the beginmng
moved round, and the motion either of the sun or he
earth were the cause of that wind, then the motion of the
sun or the earth was before the wmd itself; and if he
earth were moved, before the wmd was made, then the
wind could not be the cause of the earth's revo^ut^on ; but
if the sun were moved, and the earth stand still, then it is
manifest the earth might remain unmoved, notwi^sUnd-
ing that wind ; and therefore that motion was not made by
thf cause which he allegeth. But para ogisms of th^s
kind are very frequent among the writers of physKS^^
though none can be more elaborate than this m the ex-
ample giveo«
19. It may to some men seem pertinent to treat in this
place of that art of the geometricians, which they call
losristica. that is. the art, by which, from supposing the
thing in question to be true, they proceed by ratiocination
till either they come to something known, by winch they
maytmonstLte the truth of the thing sought for ; or to
something which is impossible, ^om^l'"^^^ ^^7.^ !rt
that to be false, which they supposed true But this art
cannot be explicated here, for this reason that the meth-
od of it can neither be practised, nor understood, unless
by such as are well versed in geometry; and among geo-
metricians themselves, they, that have '"f *<^"";' '"
readiness, are the most ready in the use of this logisUca.
so that, indeed, it is not a distinct thing from geometry
itself; for there arc. in the method of it, three parte
the first whereof consists in the finding out of equa hty be-
twixt known and unknown things, which they call equa-
tion • and this equation cannot be found out, but by such
ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY
as know perfectly the nature, properties, and transposi-
tions of proportion, as also the addition, subtraction, mul-
tiplication, and division of lines and superficies, and the
extraction of roots ; which are the parts of no mean geo-
metrician. The second is, when an equation is found,
to be able to judge whether the truth or falsity of the
question may be deduced from it, or no ; which yet re-
quires greater knowledge. And the third is, when such
an equation is found, as is fit for the solution of the ques-
tion, to know how to resolve the same in such manner,
that the truth or falsity may thereby manifestly appear;
which,, in hard questions, cannot be done without the
knowledge of the nature of crooked-lined figures; but he
that understands readily the nature and properties of
these, is a complete geometrician. It happens besides,
that for the finding out of equations, there is no certain
method, but he is best able to do it, that has the best nat-
ural wit
A \>n f.tf r, »/. ■.•■/./.• . *'ii^ar/ffA-t /vim v*"!.'
1
t
:
SELECTIONS FROM
LEVIATHAN
OK
THE MATTER, FORM, AND POWER
OF A
COMMONWEALTH
^
ECCLESIASTICAL AND CIVIL
THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY.
I*
m^
TO MY MOST HONOR'd FRIEND
MR. FRANCIS GODOLPHIN,
OF GODOLPHIN.
Honor'd Sir,
Your most worthy brother, Mr. Sidney Godolphin,
when he Uved, was pleased to think my studies some-
thing, and otherwise to oblige me, as you know, with
real testimonies of his good opinion, great in them-
selves, and the greater for the worthiness of his person.
For there is not any virtue that disposeth a man, either
to the service of God, or to the service of his country,
to civil society, or private friendship, that did not man-
ifestly appear in his conversation, not as acquired by
necessity, or affected upon occasion, but inherent, and
shining in a generous constitution of his nature. There-
fore, in honour and gratitude to him, and with devo-
tion to yourself, I humbly dedicate unto you this my
discourse of Commonwealth. I know not how the
world will receive it, nor how it may reflect on those
that shall seem to favour it. F or in a way beset with
those that contend, on one si3e' for too p^reat liberty,
and on the other side for too much authority, 'tis hard
to pass between the points of both unwounded. But
yet, methinks, the endeavour to advance the civil power,
should not be by the civil power condemned ; nor private
men, by reprehending it, declare they think that power
too great. Besides, I speak not of the men, but, in the
So
LEVIATHAN
abstract, of the seat of power, (like to those S'«.P»e ?°.^
unpartial creatures in the Roman apitol, that with their
noise defended those within it, not because they were
they, but there), oflfending none, I think, but those with-
out, or such within, if there be any such, as favour them.
That which perhaps may most offend, are certam texts
of Holy Scripture, alleged by me to other purpose than
ordinarily they use to be by others. But I have done it
with due submission, and also, in order to my subject,
necessarily ; for they are the outworks of the enemy, from
whence they impugn the civil power. If notwithstand-
ing this, you find my labour generally decried, you may
be pleased to excuse yourself, and say, I am a man that
love my own opinions, and think all true I say, that I
honoured your brother, and honour you, and have pre-
sumed on that, to assume the title, without your knowl-
edge, of being, as I am.
Sir,
Your most humble,
and most obedient Servant,
Thomas Hobbes.
Paris, A/>riHi, 16$!.
^
.( cc
THE
INTRODUCTION.
ilu'--'^-"'
r t^.
V^
■ClA^
Nature, the art whereby God hath made and governs
the world, is by the art of man, as in many other things,
so in this also imitatedL^Jjat it can make an artificial
animal. For seeing /tifeis) but a motion of limbs, the
b e^nning whereof iT ^ some principal Dart
why may we not say, that all automata (engines that
move themselves by springs and wheels as doth a watch)
have an artificial life? For what is the heart, but a
spring; and the nerves, but so many strings; and the
joints, but so many wheels, giving motion to the whole
body, such as was intended by the artificer? Art goes
yet further, imitating that rational and most excellent
^work of nature, man. For by ^rt_is created^that great
Leviathan called a Commonwealth , or State, in
Latin Civitas. which is h i^t f n artificial man : though
of greater stature and strength than the natural, for
whose protection and defence it was intended; and in
which the sovereignty is an artificial soul, as giving life
and motion to the whole body ; the magistrates, and
other oMcers of judicature and execution, artificial joints;
reward and punishment, by which fastened to the seat of
the sovereignty every joint and member is moved to per-
I form his duty, are the nerves, that do the same in the
body natural ; the wealth and riches of all the particular
members, are the strength; salus poptdi, the peoples
safety, its business; counsellors, by whom all things need-
ful for it to know are suggested unto it, are the memory;
equity, and laws, an artificial reason and will; concord.
(cv.S
\
ill *i
82
LEVIATHAN
\ health; sedition, sickness; and civil war, death. Lastly,
ithe pacts and covenants, by which the parts of this body
/politic were at first made, set together, and united, re-
Jsemble that Hat, or the let us make man, pronounced by
[God in the creation.
'"■^ To describe the nature of this artificial man, I will
consider
First, the matter thereof, and the artificer; both which
is man.
Secondly, how, and by what covenants it is made;
what are the rights and just power or authority oi a sov-
ereign; and what it is that preserve fh or dissolveth it.
Thirdly, what is a Christian commonwealth,
U Lastly, what is the kingdom of darkness.
Concerning the first, there is a saying much usurped
of late, that wisdom is acquired, not by reading of hooks,
but of men. Consequently whereunto, those persons,
that for the most part can give no oither proof of being
wise, take great delight to show what they think they
have read in men^ by uncharitable censures of one an-
other behind their backs. But there is another saying
not of late understood, by which they might learn truly
to read one another, if they would take the pains; that
is, nosce teipsum, read thyself: which was not meant,
as it is now used, to countenance, either the barbarous
state of men in power, towards their inferiors ; or to en-
courage men of low degree, to a saucy behaviour to-
wards their betters; but to teach us, that for the simili-
tude of the thoughts and passions of one man, to the
thoughts and passions of another, whosoever looketh in-
to himself, and considereth what he doth, when he does
think, opine, reason, hope, fear, &c,. and upon what
grounds ; he shall thereby read and know, what are the
thoughts and passions of all other men upon the like oc-
T
INTRODUCTION
«3
I
casions. I say the similitude of passions, which are the
same in all men, desire, fear, hope, &c ; not the similitude
of the objects of the passions, which are the things de-
sired, feared, hoped, &c: for these the constitution indi-
vidual, and particular education, do so vary, and they are
so easy to be kept from our knowledge, that the charac-
ters of man's heart, blotted and confounded as they are
with dissembling, lying, counterfeiting, and erroneous
doctrines, are legible only to him that searcheth hearts.
And though by men's actions we do discover their design
sometimes; yet to do it without comparing them with
our own, and distinguishing all circumstances, by which
the case may come to be altered, is to decypher without
a key, and be for the most part deceived, by too much
trust, or by too much diffidence ; as he that reads, is him-
self a good or evil man.
But let one man read another by his actions never so
perfectly, it serves him only with his acquaintance, which
are but few. He that is to govern a whole nation, must
read in himself, not this or that particular man; but
mankind: which though it be hard to do, harder than
to learn any language or science ; yet when I shall have
set down my own reading orderly, and perspicuously,
the pains left another, will be only to consider, if he also
find not the same in himself. For this kind of doctrine
admitteth no other demonstration.
1
PART L
OF MAN.
\
^i^^^tt- lytjt^^^f^.
CHAPTER I.
OF SENSE.
Concerning the thoughts of man, I will consider them
firstAingly, and afterwards in train, or dependence upon
one another. Singly, they are every one a representation
or appearance, of some quality, or other accident of a
body without us, which is commonly called an object.
Which object worketh on the eyes, ears, and other parts
of a man's body ; and by diversity of working, produceth
diversity of appearances.
The origi nal of them all, is that which we call sense,
for there is no conception in a man's mind, which hath
• not at first, totally or by parts, been begotten upon the or-
gans of sense. The rest are derived from that original.
To know the natural cause of sense, is not very nec-
essary to the business now in hand; and I have else-
where written of the same at large. Nevertheless, to fill
each part of my present method, I will briefly deliver the
same in this place.
The cause of sense, is the external bo dy, or object,
. which presseth the organ proper to each sense, either
immediately, as in the taste and touch ; or mediately, as in
seeing, hearing, and smelling; which pressure, by the
mediation of the nerves, and other strings and mem-
branes of the body, continued inwards to the brain and
\
t
1
\
OF SENSE
heart, causeth there a resistance, or counter-pressure, or
endeavour of the heart to deliver itself, which endeavour,
because outward, seemeth to be some matter without.
And this seeming, or fancy, is that which men call
sense; and consisteth, as to the eye, in a light, or
colour figured; to the ear, in a sound; to the nostril, in
an odour; to the tongue and palate, in a savour; and to
the rest of the body, in heat, cold, hardness, softness, and
such other qualities as we discern by feeling. All which
qualities, called sensible, are in the object, that causeth
them, but so many several motions of the matter, by
which it presseth our organs diversely. Neither in us
that are pressed, are they any thing else, but divers mo-
tions ; for motion produceth nothing but nio tipn. But their
appearance to us is fancy, the s ame waking, that dre am-
ing. And as pressing, rubbing, or striking the eye, makes
us fancy a light ; and pressing the ear, produceth a din ;
so do the bodies also we see, or hear, produce the same
by their strong, though unobserved action. For if those
colours and sounds were in the bodies, or objects that
cause them, they could not be severed from them, as by
glasses, and in echoes by reflection, we see they are;
where we know the thing we see is in one place, the ap-
pearance in another. And though at some certain distance,
the real and very object seem invested with the fancy it
begets in us ; yet still the object is one thing, the image
or fancy is another. So that sense, in all cases, is nothing
else but origin al fa ncy, caused, as I have said, by the pres-
Isure, that is, by the motion, of external things upon our
[eyes, ears, and other organs thereunto ordained.
But the philosophy-schools, through all the universi-
ties of Christendom, grounded upon certain texts of
Aristotle, teach another doctrine, and say, for the cause
of vision, that the thing seen, sendeth forth on every side
*^, ,-/ .1
X
"■
U '
t6 LEVIATHAN
a z'wi^/^ ^/>^ci>5, in English, a zn^'^/^ ^^ow, apparition,
or (w/>ec/, or o &^m^ ^e^n; the receiving whereof into the
eye is seeing. And for the cause of hearing, that the thing
heard, sendeth forth an audible species, that is an audible
aspect, or audible being seen; which entering at the ear
maketh hearing. /"Nay, for the cause of understanding
I also, they say the thing understood, sendeth forth an
I mtelligible species, that is, an intelligible being seen;
which, coming into the understanding, makes us under-
stand. I say not this, as disproving the use of universi-
ties ; but because I am to speak hereafter of their office in
a ccimmonwealth, I must let you see on all occasions by
the way, what things would be amended in them ; amongst
which the frequency of insignificant speech is one.
I. SUPPLEMENT FROM
ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY,
CHAPTER XXV.
Of all the phenomena or appearances which are near
us, the most admirable is apparition itself, rd ^aivec^at;
namely, that some natural bodies have in themselves the
patterns almost of all things, and others of none at all. So
jthat if the app^rances^ethe^^i^^ which we knpw
all other things, we must needs acknowledge sense to be
the principle by which we know those principles, and
that all the knowledge we have is derived from it. And
as for the causes of sense, we cannot begin our search of
them from any other phenomenon than that of sense itself.
But you will say, by what sense shall we take notice of
sense? I answer, by sense itself, namely, by the memory
which for some time remains in us of things sensible,
though they themselves pass away. For he that perceives
that he hath perceived, remembers.
OF SENSE
«7
}U. 3
I
i:
/
Jll»^^lihru^
1
( b
V-^
A... /
In the first place, therefore, the causes of our percep-
tion, that is, the causes of those ideas and phantasms
which are perpetually generated within us whilst we
make use of our senses, are to be enquired into; and in ^
what manner their generation proceeds. To help which v
inquisition, we may observe first of all, that our phantasms
or ideas are not always the same; but that new ones (
appear to us, and old ones vanish, according as we apply
our organs of sense, now to one object, now to another. ^
Wherefore they are generated and perish. And from
hence it is manifest, that they are some change or muta- (
tion in the sentient.
,^ Now that all mutation or alteration is motion or en-
deavour (and endeavour also is motion) in the internal
parts of the thing that is altered, hath been proved
from this, that whilst even the least parts of any body
remain in the same situation in respect of one another, it
cannot be said that any alteration, unless perhaps that
the whole body together hath been moved, hath happened
to it ; but that it both appeareth and is the same it ap-
peared and was before. /"Sense, tiierefore, in the^^senjient, ^^
can be nothmg^dseJuUlLOtion_ in some of the internal
parts of the sentient ; and the parts so moved are parts
of the organs of sense. For the parts of our body, by .
which we perceive anything, are those we commonly call
the organs of sense. And so we find what is the subject
of our sense, namely, that in which are the phantasms ;
and partly also we have discovered the nature of sense,
namely, that it is some internal motion in the sentient.
I have shown besides that no motion is generated but
by a body contiguous and moved: from whence it is
manifest, that the immediate cause of sense or percep-
tion consists in this, that the first organ of sense is touched
and pressed. For when the uttermost part of the organ
*lV,4, %. 111*
/ n J
I * i
•-w/Tw^fc^-J.
,_^Jt, 5 --■>^'-
88 , LEVIATHAN
is pressed, it no sooner yields, but the part next within
it is pressed also; and, in thU manner, the pressure or
motion is propagated through all the parts of the organ
to the innermost. /And thus also the pressure of the
uttermost part proceeds from the pressure of some more
remote body, and so continually, till we come to that
from which, as from its fountain, we dtrive the phan-
tasm or idea that is made in us by our sense- And this,
whatsMxerjLbe, is that we commonly_call the object.
SenseT^il^d^, is some internal motion in the sentient,
generated by some internal motion of the parts of the
object, and propagated through all the media to the inner-
most part of the organ. By which words I have almost
defined what sense is.
Moreover, I have shown that all resistance is endeavour
opposite to another endeavour, that is to say, reaction.
Seeing, therefore, there is in the whole organ, by reason
of its own internal natural motion, some resistance or re-
action against the motion which is propagated from the
object to the innermost part of the organ, there is also m
the same organ an endeavour opposite to the endeavour
which proceeds from the object ; so that when that en-
deavour inwards is the last action in the act of sense, then
from the reaction, how little soever the duration of it
be, a phantasm or idea hath its being; which, by reason
that the endeavour is now outwards, doth always appear
I as something situate without the organ. So that now I
*- shall give you the whole definition of sense, as it is drawn
from the explication of the causes thereof and the order
of its generation, thus: sense is a phant^, made by
the reaction and endeavour outwards in the or^anof sense,
caused by an endeavour inwards from the object.\ranatn-
ing for some time more or less.
The subject of sense is the sentient itself, namely,
OF SENSE
89
i
ii
J,
A
some living creature ; and we speak more correctly, when ' j^^l^^
^ say a living creature seeth, than when we say the
eve seeth. The object is the thing received; and it
is more accurately said, that we see the sun, than that we
see the light. For light and colour, and heat and sound,
and other qualities which are commonly called sensible,
are not objects, but phantasms in thg_sentients. For a
phantasm is the sST^TTense, and differs no otherwise
from sense than Hen, that is, being a doing, differs from
iactum esse, that is, being done; which difference, m
things that are done in an instant, is none at all ; and a
phantasm is made in an instant. For in all motion wWch
proceeds by perpetual propagation, the first part bemg
moved moves the second, the second the third, and so on
to the last, and that to any distance, how great soever.
And in what point of time the first or foremost part pro-
ceeded to the place of the second, which is thrust on, in the
same point of time the last save one proceeded into the
place of the last yielding part ; which by reaction, m the
same instant, if the reaction be strong enough, makes a
phantasm; and a phantasm being made, perception is
made together with it.
The organs of sense, which are in the sentient, are
such parts thereof, that if they be hurt, the very genera-
tion of phantasms is thereby destroyed, though all the rest
of the parts remain entire. Now these parts in the most
of living creatures are found to be certain spirits and
membranes, which, proceeding from the pia mater, in-
volve the brain and all the nerves ; also the brain itself,
and the arteries which are in the brain ; and such other
parts, as being stirred, the heart also, which is the
fountain of all sense, is stirred together with them.
For whensoever the action of the object reacheth the
body of the sentient, that action is by some ner\'e prop-
>o. ^
-,7wr/-/'^-
r-<<-i/»
ly
M>
, T^
1^^'
•^ ^1m> ."^
90
LEVIATHAN
agated to the brain; and if the nerve leading thither be
so hurt or obstructed, that the motion can be propa-
gated no further, no sense follows. Also if the motion
be intercepted between the brain and the heart by the
defect of the organ by which the actionTs^ropagated,
there will be no perception of the object.
But though all sense, as I have said, be made by re-
action, nevertheless it is not necessary that every thing
that reacteth should have sense. I know there have
been philosophers, and those learned men, who have
maintained that all bodies are endued with sense. Nor
do I see how they can be refuted, if the nature of sense
be placed in reaction only. And, though by the reaction
of bodies inanimate a phantasm might be made, it
would nevertheless cease, as soon as ever the object were
removed. For unless those bodies had organs, as living
creatures have, fit for the retaining of such motion as is
made in them, their sense would be such, as that they
should never remember the sam e. And therefore this
hath nothing to do with that sense which is the subject
of my discourse! For by sense, we commonly understand
the judgment we mak e of ob jects by theii^hantasms ;
"namely, by comparing and distinguishing those phan-
tasms ; which we could never do, if that motion in the or-
gan, by which the phantasm is made, did not remain
there for some time, and make the same phantasm return.
.Wherefore sqise, as I here understand it, and which is
commonly so called, hath necessarily some memory ad-
hering to it, by which former and later phantasms may be
compared together, and distinguished from one another.
Sense, therefore, properly so called, must necessarily
have in it a perpetual variety of phantasms, that they
may be discerned one from another. For if we should
suppose a man to be made with clear eyes, and all the
OF SENSE
1
rest of his organs of sight well disposed, but endued with
no other sense; ai^d that he should look only upon one
thing, which is always of the same colour and figure, with-
out the least appearance of variety, he would seem
to me, whateoever others may say, to see, no more than
I seem to myself to feel the bones of my own limbs by
my organs of feeling; and yet those bones are always
and on all sides touched by a most sensible membrane.
I might perhaps say he were astonished, and looked upon
it ; but I should not say he saw it ; it being almost all one
for a man to be always sensible of one and the same
thing, and not to be sensible at all of anything.
And yet such is the nature of sense, that it does
not permit a man to discern many things at once. For
seeing the nature of sense consists in motion; as long as
the organs are employed about one object, they cannot
be so moved by another at the same time, as to make by
both their motions one sincere phantasm of each of them
at once. And therefore two ^s£yeralj)hantasms will not
be made by two objects working together, but only one
phantasm compounded from the action of both-.
Besides, as when we divide a body, we divide its
place; and when we reckon many bodies, we must nec-
essarily reckon as many places ; and contrarily, as I have
shown in the seventh chapter; so what number soever we
/ say there be of times, we must understand the same num-\
\ ber of motions also; and as oft as we count many motions,/
so oft we reckon many times. For though the object we
look upon be of divers colours, yet with those divers col-
ours it is but one varied object, and not variety of objects.
Moreover, whilst those organs which are common to
all the senses, such as are those parts of every organ which
proceed in men from the root of the nerves to the heart,
are vehemently stirred by a strong action from some one
}-o. 1/
Ao, /
X, J,
^o
M LEVIATHAN
object, they arc, by reason of the contumacy which the mo-
tion, they have already, gives them against the reception
of all other motion, made the less fit to receive any other
impression from whatsoever other objects, to what sense
soever those objects belong. And hence it is, that an
earnest studying of one object, takes away the sense of all
other objects for the present. For study is nothing else
but a possession of the mind, that is to say, a vehement
motion made by some one object in the organs of sense,
which are stupid to all other motions as long as this last-
eth ; according to what was said by Terence, "Populus
studio stupidus in funambulo animum occuparat." For
what is stupor but that which the Greeks call ivanr^rj^Tia,
that is, a cessation from the sense of other things ?
Wherefore at one and the same time, we cannot by sense
perceive more than one single object; as in reading, we
see the letters successively one by one, and not altogether,
though the whole page be presented to our eye ; and
though every several letter be distinctly written there,
yet when we look upon the whole page at once, we read
nothing.
From hence it is manifest, that every endeavour of the
organ outwards, is not to be called sense, but that only,
which at several times is by vehemence made stronger
and more predominant than the rest; which deprives
us of the sense of other phantasms, no otherwise than the
sun deprives the rest of the stars of light, not by hinder-
ing their action, but by obscuring and hiding them with
his excess of brightness.
***********
In most Hving creatures there are observed five kinds
of senses, which are distinguished by their organs, and
by their different kinds of phantasms ; namely, sight, hear-
ing, smell, taste, and touch; and these have their organs
OF SENSE
93
partly peculiar, to each of them severally, and partly com-
mon to them all. The organ of sight is partly animate
and partly inanimate. The inanimate parts are the three
humours ; namely, the watery humour, which by the inter-
position of the membrane called uvea, the perforation
whereof is called the apple of the eye, is contained on one
side by the first concave superficies of the eye, and on the
other side by the ciliary processes, and the coat of the
crystalline humour; the crystalline, which, hanging in
the midst between the ciliary processes, and being almost
of spherical figure, and of a thick consistence, is enclosed
on all sides with its own transparent coat; and the vit-
reous or glassy humour, which fiUeth all the rest of the
cavity of the eye, and is somewhat thicker than the wat-
ery humour, but thinner than the crystalline. The ani-
mate part of the organ is, first, the membrane choroeides,
which is a part of the pia mater, saving that it is covered
with a coat derived from the marrow of the optic nerve,
which is called the retina; and this choroeides, seeing it
is part of the pia mater, is continued to the beginning
of the medulla spinalis within the scull, in which all the
nerves which are within the head have their roots-
Wherefore all the animal spirits that the nerves receive,
enter into them there ; for it is not imaginable that they
can enter into them anywhere else. Seeing therefore
sense is nothing else but the action of objects propagated
to the furthest part of the^^anj and seeing also that
animal spirits are nothing but vital spirits purified by the
heart, and carried from it by the arteries ; it follows neces-
sarily, that the action is derived from the heart by some
of the arteries to the roots of the nerves which are in the
head, whether those arteries be the plexus retiformis, or
whether they be other arteries which are inserted into the
substance of the brain. And, therefore, those arteries
i
•k
m.
94
LEVIATHAN
OF SENSE
m
|M>
/^
,6 LEVIATHAN
18 also called sense; and the thing by whose action the
same is produced, is called the object of the sense.
By our several organs we have several conceptions
of several qualities in the objects; for by sight we have
a conception or image composed of colour and figure,
which is all the notice and knowledge the object im-
parteth to us of its nature by the eye. By hearing we
have a conception called sound, which is all the knowl-
edge we have of the quality of the object from the ear.
And so the rest of the senses are also conceptions of sev-
eral qualities, or natures of their objects.
Because the image in vision consisting of colour and
shape is the knowledge we have of the qualities of the
object of that sense ; it is no hard matter for a man to
fall into this opinion, that the same colour and shape
are the very qualities themselves; and for the same
cause, that sound and noise are the qualities of the bell,
or of the air. And this opinion hath been so long re-
ceived, that the contrary must needs appear a great par-
adox ; and yet the introduction of species visible and in-
telligible (which is necessary for the maintenance of
that opinion) passing to and fro from the object, is
worse than any paradox, as being a plain impossibility.
I shall therefore endeavor to make plain these points:
That the subject wherein colour and image are in-
herent, is not the object or thing seen.
That there is nothing without us (really) which we
call an image or colour.
That the said image or colour is but an apparition
unto us of the motion, agitation, or alteration, which the
object worketh in the brain, or spirits, or some internal
substance of the head.
That as in vision, so also in conceptions that arise
from the other senses, the subject of their inherence is
not the object, but the sentient.
^^
OF SENSE
W
Every man hath so much experience as to have seen
the sun and the other visible objects by reflection in the
water and glasses; and this alone is sufficient for this
conclusion, that colour and image may be there where
the thing seen is not. But because it may be said that
notwithstanding the image in the water be not in the ob-
ject, but a thing merely phantastical, yet there may be
colour really in. thejthing itself: I will urge further this
experience, that divers times men see directly the same
object double, as two candles for one, which may happen
from distemper, or otherwise without distemper if a man
will, the organs being either in their right temper, oi
equally distempered ; the colours and figures in two such
images of the same thing cannot be inherent therein,
because the thing seen cannot be in two places.
One of these images therefore is not inherent in the
object: but seeing the organs of the sight are then in
equal temper or distemper, the one of them is no more
inherent than the other; and consequently neither of
them both are in the object ; which is the first proposition,
mentioned in the precedent number.
Secondly, that the image of any thing by refiection in
a glass or water or the like, is not any thing in or be-
hind the glass, or in or under the water, every man may
grant to himself ; which is the second proposition.
For the third, we are to consider, first that upon every
great agitation or concussion of the brain (as it happen-
eth from a stroke, especially if the stroke be lipon
the eye) wTiereby the optic nerve sufFereth any great vio-
lence, there appeareth before the eyes a certain light,
which light is nothing without, but an apparition only,
all that is real being the concussion or motion of the
parts of that nerve; from which experience we may
conclude, that apparition of light is really nothing but
h
z_
K^
LEVIATHAN
OF SENSE
*.*■■
rV'**'
99
motion within. If therefore irom lucid bodies there
can be derived motion, so as to affect the optic nerve
in such mariner as is proper thereunto, there will follow
an image of light somewhere in that line by which the
motion was last derived to the eye ; that is to say, in the
object, if we look directly on it, and in the glass or water,
when we look upon it in the line of reflection, which in
effect is the third proposition; namely, that image and
colour is but an apparition to us of that motion, agita-
tion, or alteration which the object worketh in the brain
or spirits, or some internal substance in the head.
But that from all lucid, shining and illuminate bodies,
there is a motion produced to the eye, and, through the
eye, to the optic nerve, and so into the brain, by which
that apparition of light or colour is affected, is not hard
to prove. And first, it is evident that the £re, the only
lucid body here upon earth, worketh by motion equally
every way ; insomuch as the motion thereof stopped or
inclosed, it is presently extinguished, and no more fire.
And further, that that motion, whereby the fire work^
eth, is dilation, and contraction of itself alternately, com-
monly called scintillation or glowing, is manifest also by
experience. From such motion in the fire must needs
arise a rejection or casting from itself of that part of
the medium which is contiguous to it, whereby that part
^Iso rejecteth the next, and so successively one part beat-
eth back another to the very eye; and in the same man-
ner the exterior part of the eye presseth the interior, (the
Jaws of refraction still observed). Now the interior
coat of the eye is nothing else but a piece of the optic
nerve ; and therefore the motion is still continued there-
by into the brain, and by resistance or reaction of the
brain, is also a rebound into the optic nerve again;
which we noi conceiving 2ls motion or rebound from
within, do think it is zvithout, and call it light; 2ls hath
been already shewed by the experience of a stroke. We
have no reason to doubt, that the fountain of light, the
sun, worketh by any other ways than the fire, at least
in this matter. And thus all vision hath its original
from such motion as is here described: for where there
is no light, there is no sight; and therefore colour
also must be the same thing with light, as being the
effect of the lucid bodies: their difference being only
this, that when the light cometh directly from the foun-
tain to the eye, or indirectly by reflection from clean and
polite bodies, and such as have not any particular mo-
tion internal to alter it, we call it light; but when it
cometh to the eye by reflection from uneven, rough, and
coarse bodies, or such as are affected with internal
motion of their own that may alter it, then we call it
colour; colour and light differing only in this, that the
one is pure, and the other perturbed light. By that
which hath been said, not only the truth of the third
proposition, but also the whole manner of producing
light and colour, is apparent.
As colour is not inherent in the object, but an effect
thereof upon us, caused by such motion in the object, as
hath been described : so neither is sound in the thing we
hear, but in ourselves. One manifest sign thereof is, that
as a man may see, so also he may hear double or treble,
by multiplication of echoes, which echoes are sounds
as well as the original; and not being in one and the
same place, cannot be inherent in the body that maketh
them. Nothing can make anything which is not in itself :
the clapper hath no sound in it, but motion, and maketh
motion in the internal parts of the bell; so the bell hath
motion, and not sound, that imparteth motion to the air;
and the air hath motion, but not sound ; the air imparteth
100
LEVIATHAN
'Yo
>-\
motion by the ear and nerve unto the brain; and the brain
hath motion but not sound; from the brain, it rebound-
cth back into the nerves outward, and thence it becometh
an apparition without, which we call sound. And to
proceed to the rest of the senses, it is apparent enough,
that the smell and taste of the same thing, are not the
same to every man; and therefore are not in the thing
smelt or tasted, but in the men. So likewise the heat we
feel from the fire is manifestly in us, and is quite dif-
ferent from the heat which is in the fire: for our heat is
pleasure or pain, according as it is great or moderate;
but in the coal there is no such thing. By this the fourth
and last proposition is proved, viz. that as in vision, so
also the conceptions that arise from other senses, the sub-
ject of their inherence is not in the object, but in the sen-
tient.
And from hence also it foUoweth, that whatsoever
accidents or qualities our senses make us think there be
in the world, they be not there, but are seeming and
Ia^ariiions only : the things that really are in the world
without us, are those motions by which these seemings
are caused. And this is ^he ^reat deception of sen.s e,
which also is to be by sense corrected: for as sense telleth
me, when I see directly, that the colour seemeth to be in
the object; so also sense Jelleth me, when I see by re-
flection, that colour is not in the object.
CHAPTER II.
OF IMAGINATION.
That when a thing lies still, unless somewhat else stir'
it, it will lie still for ever, is a truth that no man doubts
of. But that when a thing is in motion, it will eternally
be in motion, unless somewhat else stay it, though the
reason be the same, namely, that nothing can change it-
self, is not so easily assented to. For men measure, not
only other men, but all other things, by themselves;
and because they find themselves subject after motion,
to pain, and lassitude, think everything else grows weary
of motion, and seeks repose of its own accord ; little con-
sidering, whether it be not some other motion, wherein
that desire of rest they find in themselves, consisteth.
From hence it is, that the schools say, he avy bodie^J all
downwards, out of an appetite to res t, and to conserve
their nature in tkat place which is most proper for them ;
ascribing appetite, and knowledge of what is good for
' their conservation, which is more than man has, to things
inanimate, absurdly.
When a body is once in motion, it moveth, unless
something else hinder it, eternally ; and whatsoever hind-
ereth it cannot in an instant, but in time, and by de-
grees, quite extinguish it; and as we see in the water,
though the wind cease, the waves give not over rolling
for a long time after : so also it happeneth in that motion,
which is made in the internal parts of a man, then, when he
(sees, dreams, &c. For after the object is removed, or the
eye shut, we still retain an image of the thing seen, though
more obscure than when we see it. And this is it, the
Latins call imagination, from the image made in seeing:;
)
LEVIATHAN
^
and apply the same, though improperly, to all the other
senses. But the Greeks call it fancy; which signifies ap-
pearance, and is as proper to one sense, as to another.
Imagination therefore is nothing but decaying sense ;
and is found in men, and many other living creatures, as
well sleeping, as waking.
/ The decay of sense in men waking, is not the decay
of the motion made in sense; but an obscuring of it, in
' such manner as the light of the sun obscureth the light
of the stars ; which stars do no less exercise their virtue,
by which they are visible, in the day than in the night.
But because amongst many strokes, which our eyes, ears,
and other organs receive from external bodies, the pre-
dominant only is sensible ; therefore, the light of the sun
being predominant, we are not affected with the action of
the stars. And any object being removed from our eyes,
though the impression it made in us remain, yet other ob-
jects more present succeeding, and working on us, the
imagination of the past is obscured, and made weak, as
the voice of a man is in the noise of the day. From whence
it followeth, that the longer the time is, after the sight
or sense of any object, the weaker is the imagination.
I For the continual change of man's body destroys in time
the parts which in sense were moved: so that distance
of time, and of place, hath one and the same effect in us.
For as at a great distance of place, that which we look
at appears dim, and without distinction of the smaller
parts ; and as voices grow weak, and inarticulate ; so also,
after great distance of time, our imagination of the past
is weak ; and we lose, for example, of cities we have seen,
many particular streets, and of actions, many particular
circumstances.^ This decaying sense, when we would ex-
'Compare Elements of Philosophy, (M.. I, 396). "But the
OF IMAQINATION
103
f press the thing itself, I mean fancy itself, we call imagina^_
\tion, as I said before : but when we would express the de-
cay;~and signffy that the sense is fading; old, and past,
it-trx:tnedjnemory. So that imagination and memory ^ v^^^^r^
arTbut^one thing, which for divers considerations hath
diversTiames.^
motion of the organ, by which a phantasm is made, is not com-
monly called sense, except the object be present. And the phan-
tasm-remaining after the object is renioved or past by. is called
fancy, and in Latin imaginatio ; which word, because all phan-
tasms are not images, doth not fully answer the signification
of the word fancy in its general acceptation. Nevertheless 1
may use it safely enough by understanding it for the Greek
*aiJTammon use of speech, representeth
unto us not our own conceptions. It is therefore a great ability
in a man, out of the words, contexture, and other circumstances
of language, to deliver himself from equivocation, and to find
out the true meaning of what is ftaid: and this is it we call
understanding, ' *
I
CHAPTER III.
OF THE CONSEQUENCE OR TRAIN OF IMAGINATIONS.
Bv Consequence, or train of thoughts. I "««i^^«^;^ *^^ f.ZZ'^
succession of one thought to another, which is called, to /T I
,ItTnSsh it from discourse in words, menial i.co.rs. ^^.
'men a man thinketh on any thing whatsoever, h.s
next thought after, is not altogether so casual as it seems
to be. Not every thought to every though succeeds m- ^^^-_.
differently. But as weJiave_nCL_imagmation. whereof c«.
we have jiotjorme rly had sens e, in whole, or m parts ; so
we have^^^l^tion from one imagination to another,
whereofl^never had the like before in our senses The
reason ^irfiiSBnTthlF.' Allfancies are motions within us
relics of those mademjheiense : and those motions that
immediiW^H^^^^did-^another in the sfise con-
tinue also together after sense: insomuch as the former
coming again to take place, and be predominant the
latter foUoweth, by coherence of the matter moved, m
such manner, as water upon a plane table is drawn
■ Compare EXcmoMs of Philosophy, (M. \39?l-J.^^^\s
petual arising ofjehantasms, ^'l"^j;^jt^""r^T^ ^ •/
that-whtch we commonly call d.sc^e of the m ^^^^ v
common to men with other »^'"8 "!*"'Ta jj ,-jjeth notice of
eth. conjESreth the phantasms that pass. that fffXiilM.\. ob-
thelr "k%-r ua|jken|ss io^^^^^^^^ And^« ^^J^^^^^
fancy; so he is said to have a 8°°^ )"dgm^t tnat n ,
unlikenesses or dif^ences of things ^^^^^^^ll^^ „ade by
Now this obsepration of « ««""=fC^ '^^^^ t^^^" of thoughts, or mental discourse, is of twol
^ ',~rr ^^^^' ^^^ ^''^^ ^^ unguided, without design, and inconJ
^--^ stant; wherein there is no passionate thought, to govern
^ Sr^^ and direct those that follB^SnTltidfTIs the end and
f. scope of some desire, or other passion : in which case the
Cn^^^^t^^^ thoughts are said to wander, and seem impertinent one
^^ - ' to another, as in a dream. Such are commonly the thoughts
of men, that are not only without company, but also with-
out care of anything; though even then their thoughts
are as busy as at other times, but without harmony ; as the
sound which a lute out of tune would yield to any man ; or
m tune, to one that could not play. And yet in this wild
ranging of the mind, a man may oft-tihies perceive the way
'Compare Human Nature, (M. IV, 15). "The cause of
he coherence or consequence of one conception to anXr U
Drndnrlxr^^'"''''"" ^^ consequence allK^t time when ?hey are
ninn^#T^Q?"o : ^' t"' ^^^^P^^^ from St. Andrew the mind
runneth to St. Peter, because their names are read together-
Suse frni^'^fn^'? r" ^" ''t '^f'" *^«^^^^^^ ^"^ for the same
f«H /J foundation to church, and from church to People
m^nd T ^'''^^' /° '"'"/'^•' ^"^ according to this example the
mmd may run almost from anything to anything. But as in
the^.n.^ the conception of cause and effect may succeed oie
most^an ?hT' H^^'^ ""^l"' ^^"^^ ^" '^' tma^^ma/f J: and for ?he
most part they do so : the cause whereof is the appetite of them
"eDtion'of"fh^ rr ''^^" "' '^'l '""^^ ^^^^ next^Snfo it a con-'
/ ?l u! ^*;^,"«^t *«^««-f to that end: as, when a man from
-J Che thought of wtsdom. which is the next means thereunto •
" mi:Twtdom.'^-° "■' *''°"^''' of /"«'^>' which ^s'^rnTxf
TRAIN OF IMAGINATIONS
"5
I
Jx\^l
r
of it, and the dependence of one thought upon another.
For in a discourse of our present civil war, what could
seem more impertinent, than to ask, as one did, what was
the value of a Roman penny ? Yet the coherence to me
was manifest enough. For the thought of the war, intro-
duced the thought of the delivering up the king to his en-
emies ; the thought of that, brought in the thought of the
delivering up of Christ ; and that again the thought of the ,
thirty pence, which was the price of that treason ; and
thence easily followed that malicious question, and all
this in a moment of time ; for thought is quick.
The second is more constant ; as being regulated by
some desire, and design. For the impression made by ^
such things as we desire, or fear, is strong, and perman- U^^u.
ent, or, if it cease for a time, of quick return: so strong f^^ e^^^\
it is sometimes, as to hinder and break our sleep. From ^ ^^) |
desire, ariseth the thought of some means we have seen
produce the like of that which we aim at ; and from the
thought of that, the thought of means to that mean ; and
so continually, till we come to some beginning within
our own power. And because the end, by the greatness of
the impression, comes often to mind, in case our thoughts
begin to wander, they are quickl y again redu^ edjnto_A.e
way : which observed by one of the seven wise men, made
mm give men this precept, which is now worn out,
Resfice iinem; that is to say, in all your actions, look
often upon what you would have, as the thing that
directs all your thoughts in the way to attain it.
The t rain of re gulate d thoughts is of jt wo kinds ; one,
when of an effect imagined we seek the causes, or means
that produce it : and this is common to man and beast .
The other is, when imagining anything whatsoever, we ^
, seek_alljhe_£0ssi.^^ that can by it be produced;^
that is to say, we imagine what we can do with it, when
J
i4^L)r
Ii6
LEVIATHAN
TRAIN OF IMAGINATIONS
Vf7
1
we have it. Of which I have not at any time seen any
sign, but in man only ; for this is a curiosity hardly in-
cident to the nature of any living creature that has no
other passion but sensual, such as are hunger, thirst,
lust, and anger, fin sum, the discourse of the mind, when
it is governed by design, is nothing but seeking, or the
faculty of invention, which the Latins called sagacitas,
and solertia; a hunting out of the causes, of some effect,
present or past ; or of the effects, of some present or past
cause. Sometimes a man seeks what he hath lost ; and
from that place, and time, wherein he misses it, his mind
runs back, from place to place, and time to time, to find
where, and when he had it ; that is to say, to find some
certain, and limited time and place, in which to begin a
method of seeking. Again, from thence, his thoughts run
over the same places and times, to find what action, or
other occasion might make him lose it. This we call^e-
m embranc e^ or calling to mind : the Latins call it remini'
"T^mttaT^^^t 'were a re-conning of our former actions.
Sometimes a man knows a place determinate, with-
in the compass whereof he is to seek; and then his
thoughts run over all the parts thereof, in the same manner
as one would sweep a room, to find a jewel; or as a
spaniel ranges the field, till he find a scent ; or as a man
should run over the alphabet, to start a rhyme.
Sometimes a man desires to know the event of an
action; and then he thinketh of some like action past,
and the events thereof one after another ; supposing like
events will follow like actions. As he that foresees what
will become of a criminal, re-cons what he has seen follow
on the like crime before ; having this order of thoughts,
the crime, the ofiicer, the prison, the judge, and the gal-
lows. Which kind of thoughts, is caWedj^resi^t, and
prudence, or providence; and sometimes ivisdom; though
\1
such conjecture, through the dHficuky af observing all
circumstances, be very fallacious. But *- js fe^;";^y
how much one man has more experience of thmgs pa^ .
Aan another, by so much also he xs -nore pnad«.t
and his expectations the seldomer fad h,m . The presei^
ont has a being in nature ; things^o.* have a bemg m he
, memory only, but things to come have no being at aU . the
r«'ur7being but a fiction of the mind, applymg the se-
quellof actions passed, to the actions that are present
which with most certainty is done by him that has most
experience, but not with certainty enough- And though
it be called prudence, when the event answereth our ex-
pectation; yet in its own nature, it is but Pre^ti^n-
For the foresight of things to come, which is providence,
belongl only to him by whose will they are to come.
From him only, and supematurally, proceeds prophecy^
The best prophet naturally is the best guesser ; and the
best guesser, he that is most versed and studied m the
matters he guesses at : for he hath most signs to guess by.
Tsilnfs the evident antecedent of the consequent;
and confrarily. the consequent of the antecedent when
the like consequences have been observed before . and
he oftener they have been observed, the less uncertam
is the sign. And therefore he that has most experience
in any kind of business, has most signs, whereby to guess
at the future time; and consequently is the most pmdent:
and so much more prudent than he that is new m that
kind of business, as not to be equalled by any advantage
of natural and extemporary wit: though perhaps many
young men think the contrary.
Nevertheless it is not prudence that d'^tingmsheth man
from beast There be beasts, that at a year old observe
m^e, an?pursue that which is for their good, more pru-
dently, than a child can do at ten.
lis
LEVIATHAN
TRAIN OF IMAGINATIONS
"9
I As prudence is a presumption of the future, contracted
Jf rem the experience of time past: so there is a presumption
of thmgs past taken from other things, not future but
past also. For he that hath seen by what courses and de-
grees a flourishing state hath first come into civil war, and
then to nun ; upon the sight of the ruins of any other state
will guess, the like war, and the like courses have been
there also. But this conjecture, has the same uncertainty
almost with the conjecture of the future; both being
grounded only upon experience.'
There is no other act of man's mind, that I can remem-
ber, naturally planted in him, so as to need no other thing
to the exercise of it, but to be bom a man, and live with
the use of his five senses. Those other faculties, of which
I shall speak by and by, and which seem proper to man
only, are acquired and increased bv study and industry •
and of most men learned by instruction, and discipline'
and proceeds all from the invention of words, and speech.'
tor besides sense, and thoughts, and the train of thoughts
the mmd of man has no other motion ; though by the help
of speech, and me thod, the same faculties may be improved "
IV.'TIf te'whh'fh^/ir^ ■" '*•'' '" """"'" ^"""-^ (M.
exoerience -Af; • '°"°"''"? caveats of concluding from
experience. As m conjecture concern ne thines oast anH fi.
o"ome1oTass"'o'r *to r^'"*"^ ''r, ^™«- *"»»*' "^«'
to rcUe s %, %Jn^^vtl^ur^ t^ahnoT;
we cannot from experience conclude, that anything is o be °lTeH
'^^rtSwZi' f"''"' °\="y ProposftiSrjU°.^ wha't"!
posed'arS il'^ ll LT- fo?'examoT to h'^T "'^ "'""'' '■""
given in the like ra« V i,. i:l ^ !' '° "^^^ ^"^"^ * sentence
m concluding by experience, • * * that ic tL.
dude such things to be without, that are within uL" ' '""' .
\
to such a height, as to distinguish men from aU other liv-
ing creatures. ™ , i.
Whatsoever we imagine is finite. • . Therefore there
is no idea, or conception of any thing we call infinite. No
man can have in his mind an image of infinite magnitude ;
nor conceive infinite swiftness, infinite time, or infinite
force, or infinite power. When we say anything is in-
finite, we signify only, that we are not able to conceive
the ends, and bounds of the things named; having no
conception of the thing, but of our own inabihty. And
therefore the name of God is used, not to make us con-
ceive him, for he is incomprehensible ; and his greatness,
and power are unconceivable ; but that we may honour
him Also because, whatsoever, as I said before, we con-
ceive, has been perceived first by sense, either all at once,
or by parts ; a man can have no thought, representing any-
thing, not subject to sense. No man therefore can con-
ceive anything, but he must conceive it in some place ; and
indued with some determinate magnitude; and which may
be divided into parts ; nor that anything is all in this place,
and all in another place at the same time ; nor that two,
or more things can be in one, and the same place at
once: for none of these things ever have, nor can be
incident to sense ; but are absurd speeches, taken upon
credit, without any signification at all, from deceived
philosophers, and deceived, or deceiving schoolmen.*
* Compare above p. 62, n.
OF SPEECH
121
CHAPTER IV.
O? SPEECH.*
The invention of printing, though ingenious, compared
with the invention of letters, is no great matter. But
who was the first that found the use of letters, is not
known. He that first brought them into Greece, men
say was Cadmus, the son of Agenor, king of Phoenicia.
A profitable invention for continuing the memory of time
passed, and the conjunction of mankind, dispersed
into so many, and distant regions of the earth ; and with-
al difficult, as proceeding from a watchful obesrvation
of the divers motions of the tongue, palate, lips, and other
organs of speech ; whereby to make as many differences
of characters, to remember them. But the most noble
and profitable invention of all other, was that of speech, ^
consisting of names or appellations, and their connexion ; |
whereby men register their thoughts; recall them when
they are past ; and also declare them one to another for
mutual utility and conversation; without which, there
had been amongst men, neither commonwealth, nor so-
ciety, nor contract, nor peace, no more than amongst
lions, bears, and wolves. The first author of speech was
Godjijmself, that instructed^dam how to name such
creatures as he presented to his sight ; for the Scripture
goeth no further in this matter. But this was sufficient
to direct him to add more names, as the experience and
use of the creatures should give him occasion; and to
join them in such manner by degrees, as to make himself
understood; and so by succession of time, so much lan-
* Compare above Elements of Philosophy, p. I3f.
^age might be gotten, as he had found use for; though
Z^so copious, as an orator or philosopher has rieed of •
Z I do not find anything in the Scripture, ou of whjd.
directly or by consequence, can be gathered, that Adam
was taught the names of all figures, numbers meas-
Z. cofours. sounds, fancies. '«'-*--: -"^ lXm«
nam^s of words and speech, as general, spec^l aArma-^
five negative, interrogative, optative, .nftn.hw, all
Sch art useful; and least of all. of entity intents,
ality. quiddity, and other insignificant words of the schc«l
But all this language gotten, and augmented by Adam
and his posterity, was again lost at the Tower of Babel
when, by the hand of God, every man was stricken, for
his r;bellion. with an oblivion of his former language.
And being hereby forced to disperse themsdves mto
several parts of the world, it must needs^be that the di-
versity of tongues that now is, proceeded by degrees from
them, in such manner, as need, the mother of all mven-
tions, taught them ; and in tract of time grew every-
where more copious. .
/ The general use of speech, is to transfer our mental
discourse, into verbal; or the train ^f our thoughts into
a train of words; and that for two commodities, where-
of one is the registering of the consequences of our
thought; which being apt to slip out of o"^ "^'^^Th
and put us to a new labour, may again be recalled, by such
words as they were marked by. So that the first use of
names is to serve for marks, or notes of ■•emembrance An-
other is, when many use the same words, to ^^'^y'^
their connexion and order, one to another, what tisLCon-
ceive, or think of each matter; and also what they de-
sUfear, or have any other passion for. AnOor thi
use they are called signs. Special uses of speech are these
first to register, what by cogitation, we find to be the
(S
122
LEVIATHAN
^'
\
cause of anything, present or past; and what we find
things present or past may produce, or effect; which in
sum, is acquiring of arts. Secondly, to show to others
that knowledge which we have attained, which is, to
coimsel and teach one another. Thirdly, to make known
to others our wills and purposes, that we may have the
mutual help of one another. Fourthly, to please and de-
light ourselves and others, by playing with our words,
for pleasure or ornament, innocently.
To these uses, there are also four^cprrespoijdent
abuses. First, when men register their thoughts wrong,
by the inconstancy of the signification of their words;
by which they register for their conception, that which
they never conceived, and so deceive themselves. Sec-
ondly, when they use words metaphorically : that is, in
other sense than that thev are o rdaine d fo r; and thereby
deceive 9th 6gfi>» Thirdly, by^words^wnar tliey declare
that to be their will, which is not. Fourthly, when they
use them to grieve one another; for seeing nature hath
armed living creatures, some with teeth, some with
horns, and some with hands, to grieve an enemy, it is
but an abuse of speech, to grieve him with the tongue,
unless it be one whom we are obliged to govern; and
then it is not to grieve, but to correct and amend.
The manner how speech serveth to the remembrance
of the consequence of causes and effects, consisteth in the
imposing of names, and the connexion of them.
Of names, some are proper, and singular to one only
thing, as Peter, John, this man, this tree; and some are
common to many things, man, horse, tree; every of
which, though but one name, is nevertheless the name of
divers particular things ; in respect of all which together,
it is called an universal; there being nothing in the world
OF SPEECH
133
II
universal but names ; for the things named are every one
of them individual and singular.
One universal name is imposed on many things, for
their similitude in some quality, or other accident; and
whereas a proper name bringeth to mind one thing only,
universals recall any one of those many.
And of names universal, some are of more, and some
of less extent ; the larger comprehending the less large ;
and some again of equal extent, comprehending each
other reciprocally. As for example: the name body is
of larger signification than the word man, and compre-
hendeth it ; and the names man and rational, are of equal
extent, comprehending mutually one another. But here
we must take notice, that by a name is not always imder-
stood, as in grammar, one only word; but sometimes,
by circumlocution, many words together. For all these
words, he that in his actions ohserveth the laws of his
country, make but one name, equivalent to this one word,
just.
By this imposition of names, some of larger, some
of stricter signification, we turn the reckoni ng of the con-
sequences of things imagined in the mind, int o a rec kpn-
ing of the consequences of appellations- For example:
a man that hath no use of speech at all, such as is bom
and remains perfectly deaf and dumb, if he set before
his eyes a triangle, and by it two right angles, such as
are the corners of a square figure, he may, by meditation,
compare and find, that the three angles of that triangle,
are equal to those two right angles that stand by it. But
if another triangle be shown him, different in shape from
the former, he cannot know, without a new labour,
whether the three angles of that also be equal to the same.
But he that hath the use of words, when he observes,
that such quality was consequent, not to the length of
II
124
LEVIATHAN
\
L^
■;•
the sides, nor to any other particular thing in his tri-
angle ; but only to this, that the sides were straight, and
the angles three; and that that was all, for which he
named it a triangle ; will boldly conclude universally, that
such equality of angles is in all triangles whatsoever;
and r egiste r his invention in th ese g eneral terms, ever'^
triangle hath its three angles equal to two right angles.
And thus the consequence found in one particular, comes
to be registered and remembered, as a universal rule, and
discharges our mental reckoning, of time and place, and
delivers us from all labour of the mind, saving the first,
and makes that which was found true here, and nowy to
be true in all times and places.
But the use of words in registering our thoughts is
in nothing so evident as in numbering. A natural fool
that could never learn by heart the order of numeral
words, as one, two, and three, may observe every stroke
of the clock, and nod to it, or say one, one, one, but can
never know what hour it strikes. And it seems, there was
» a time when those names of number were not in use ; and
men were fain to apply their fingers of one or both hands,
to those things they desired to keep account of ; and that
thence it proceeded, that now our numeral words are
but ten, in any nation, and in some but five; and then
they begin again. And he that can tell ten, if he recite
them out of order, will lose himself, and not know when
he has done. Much less will he be able to add, and sub-
tract, and perform all other operations of arithmetic. So
that without words there is no possibility of reckoning
of numbers; much less of magnitudes, of swiftness, of
force, and other things, the reckonings whereof are nec-
essary to the being, or well-being of mankind.
When two names are joined together into a conse-
quence, or affirmation, as thus, a man is a living creon
OF SPEECH
I2S
-f
ture; or thus, if he be a man, he is a lisHng creature; if
the latter name, living creature, sipiiiy all that the for-
mer name man signifieth, thei^tne affirmation, or con-
sequence, is true; otherwise /a to. For true and false
are att ributes of spee c h^ not of thin gs. And where
speech is not, there is neither truth nor falsehood; error
there may be, as when we expect that which shall not be .
o r suspect what has not bee n : but in neither case can a
man be charged with untruth.
Seeing then that truth consisteth in the rigf ht or der-
ing of names in our affirmations, a man that seeketh pre-
I cise truth had need to remember wh at every name he uses
i sta nds fo r, and to place it accordingly, or else he will
^ find himself entangled in words, as a bird in lime twigs,
the more he struggles the more belimed. fAnd there-
fore in geometry , which is the only science that it hath
pleased G:)d hitherto tp bestow oi^ mankind, men be-
gm at settling the significations of their words; which
settling of significations they call definitions, and place
them in the beginning of their reckoning.
By this it appears how necessary it is for any man
that aspires to true knowledge, to examine the definitions
of former authors; and either t o correct th em, where
they are negligently set down, or to make them himself.
For the errors of definitions multiply themselves accord-
ing as the reckoning proceeds, and lead men into ab-
surdities, which at last they see, but cannot avoid,
without reckoning anew from the beginning, in which
lies the foundation of their errors. From whence it
happens, that they which trust to books do as they that
cast up many little sums into a greater, without consider-
ing whether those little sums were rightly cast up or not ;
and at last finding the error visible, and not mistrusting
their first grounds, know not which way to clear them-
(^0j\AJi.
*/.
126
LEVIATHAN
OF SPEECH
127
H-
1
4^ c
r»v
CaA^
selves, but spend time in fluttering over their books; as
birds that entering by the chimney, and finding them-
selves enclosed in a chamber, flutter at the false light of
a glass window, for want of wit to consider which way
they came in. So that in the rig ht definition oj ^names
lies the first use of speech ; which is the acquisition of
science: and in wrong, or no definitions, lies the first
abuse ; from which proceed all false and senseless tenets ;
which make those men that take their instruction from
the authority of books, and not from their own meditation,
to be as much below the condition of ignorant men, as
men endued with true science are above it. For between
true science and erroneous doctrines, ignorance is in the
middle. Natural sense and imagination are not sub-
ject to absurdity. / Nature itself cannot err ; and as men
abound in copiousness of language, so they become more
wise, or more mad than ordinary. Nor is it possible
without letters for any man to become either excellently
wise, or, unless his memory be hurt by disease or ill con-
stitution of organs, excellently foolish. For words are
wise men's counters, they do but reckon by them ; but
they are the money of fools, that value them by the
authority of an Aristotle, a Cicero, or a Thomas, or
any other doctor whatsoever, if but a man./
Subject to names, is whatsoever can enter into
or be considered in an account, and be added one to
an other to mak e a sum^ or subtracted one from another
and leave a remainder. The Latins called accounts of
money rationes, and accounting ratiocinatio ; and that
which we in bills or books of account call items, they call
nomina, that is names; and thence it seems to proceed,
that they extended the word ratio to the faculty of reck-
oning in all other things. The Greeks have but one
word, XSyo^ for both speech and reason; not that they
A
thought there was no speech without reason, but no
reasoning without speech : and the act of reasoning they
called syllogism, which signifieth summing up of the con-
sequences of one saying to another. And because the
same thing may enter into account for divers accidents,
their names are, to show that diversity, diversly wrested
and diversified. This diversity of names may be reduced
to four general heads.
First, a thing may enter into account for matter or
body; as living, sensible, rational, hot, cold, moved,
quiet; with all which names the word matter, or body,
is understood ; all such being names of matter.
Secondly, it may enter into account, or be considered,
for some accident or quality whic h we^con ceive to be in
it ; as for being moved, for being so long, for being hot,
&c. ; and then, of the name of the thing itself, by a little
change or wresting, we make a name for that accident,
which we consider; and for living put into the account
life; for moved, motion; for hot, heat; for long, length;
and the like: and all s uch na mes are the names of the
accid ents and p roperties by which one matter and body |
is distinguished from another. These are called names
abstract, because severed, not from matter, but from'
the account of matter.
Thirdly, we bring into account the properties of our
own bodies, whereby we make such distinction ; as when
anything is seen by us, we reckon not the thing itself,
but the sight, the colour, the idea of it in the fancy : and
when anything is heard, we reckon it not, but the hear-
ing or soimd only, which is our fancy or conception of it
by the ear; and such are names of fancies.
Fourthly, we bring into account, consider, and give
names, to names themselves, and to speeches: for gen-
eral, universal, special, equivocal, are names of names.
f^
e,mZt^yif*4*
128
LEVIATHAN
OF SPEECH
1*9
i
^if*^^-Ju'cCl0*K-
And affirmation, interrogation, commandment, narration,
syllogism, sermon, oration, and many other such, are
names of speeches. And this is all the variety of names
positive; which are put to mark somewhat which is in
nature, or may be feigned by the mind of man, as bodies
that are, or may be conceived to be; or of bodies, the
properties that are, or may be Signed to be ; or words
and speech.
There be also other names, called negative, which are
notes to signify that a word is not the name of the thing
in question; as these words, nothing, no man, infinite,
indocihle, three want four, and the like ; which are nev-
ertheless of use in reckoning, or in correcting of reckon-
ing, and call to mind our past cogitations, though they be
not names of anything, because they make us refuse to
admit of names not rightly used.
All other names are but insignificant sounds; and
those of two sorts. One when they are new, and yet
their meaning not explained by definition ; whereof there
have been abundance coined by schoolmen, and puzzled
philosophers.
Another, when men make a name of t'vo names,
whose significations are contradictory and inconsistent;
as this name, an incorporeal body, or, which is all one,
an incorporeal substance, and a great number more. For
whensoever any affirmation is false, the two names of
which it is composed, put together and made one, sig-
nify nothing at all For example, if it be a false affirma-
tion to say a quadrangle is round, the word round quad-
rangle signifies nothing, but is a mere sound. So like-
wise, if it be false to say that virtue can be poured, or
blown up and down, the words inpoured virtue, inblown
znrtne, are as absurd and insignificant as a round quad-
rangle. And therefore you shall hardly meet with a
senseless and insignificant word, that is not made up of
someUtin or Greek names. A Frenchman seldom
hears our Saviour called by the name of parole, but by
the name of verbe often ; yet verbe and parole differ no
more, but that one is Latin and the other French.
When a man, upon the hearing of any speech, hath
those thoughts which the words of that speech and their
connexion were ordained and constituted to signify, then
he is said to understand it ; understanding being nothing
else but conception caused by speech. And therefore
if speech be peculiar to man, as for ought I know it is,
then is understanding peculiar to him also. And there- .
fore of absurd and false affirmations, in case they be '^
universal, there can be no understanding; though many ■"
think they understand then, when they do but repeat I
the worduoftly, or con them in their mind.
What kinds of speeches signify the appetites, aver-,
sions, and passions of man's mind; and of their use and
abuse, I shall speak when I have spoken of the passions.
The names of such things as affect us, that is, which
please and displease us, because all men be not alike
affected with the same thing, nor the same man at all
times, are in the common discourses of men of incon-
stant signification. For seeing all n ames are i mposed
to signify our ^co ncept ion s, and all our affections are
but conceptions, when we conceive the same things dif-
ferently, we can hardly avoid different naming of them.
For though the nature of that we conceive, be the same ;
yet the diversity of our reception of it, in respect of dif-
ferent constitutions of body, and prejudices of opinion,
gives every thing a tincture of our different passions.
And therefore in reasoning a man must take heed of
words; which besides the signification of what we im-
agine of their nature, have a signification also of the na-
H
I
130
LEVIATHAN
!
ture, disposition, and interest of the speaker; such as
are the names of virtues and vices ; for one man calleth
wisdom, what another calleth fear; and one cruelty, what
another justice; one prodigality, what another magna-
nimity; and one gravity, what another stupidity, &c.
And therefore such names can never be true grounds
of any ratiocination. No more can metaphors, and
tropes of speech; but these are less dangerous, because
they profess their inconstancy; which the other do not.
CHAPTER V.
OF REASON AND SCIENCE.
When a man reasoneth, he does nothing else but con-
ceive a sum total, from addition of parcels; or conceive a
remainder, from subtraction of one sum from another;
which, if it be done by words, is cpnceivingLqLth^
quenceoldiinameioLa^^
whole; or from the names of the whole and one part,
to the name of the other part. And though in some thmgs,
as in numbers, besides adding and subtracting, men name
other operations, as multiplying and dividing, yet
thev are the same; for multiplication, is but ad-
ding together of things equal ; and division, but subtract-
ing of one thing, as often as we can. These operations
are not incident to numbers only, but to all manner
of things that can be added together, and taken one
out of another. For as arithmeticians teach to add
and subtract in numbers; so the geometricians teach the
same in lines, figures, solid and superficial, angles, pro-
portions, times, degrees of swiftness, force, power, and
the like ; the logicians teach the same in consequences of
words; adding together two names to make an amr-
mation, and two aMrmations to make a syllogism; and
many syllogisms to make a demonstration; and from the
sum, or conclusion of a syllogism, they subtract one
proposition to find the other. Writers of politics add
together pactions to find men's duties; and lawyers, laws
and facts, to find what is right and wrong in the actions
of private men. ( In sum, in what matter soever there /
is place for addition and subtraction, there also is place f
for recson; and where these have no place, there reason j
has nothing at all to do.
-tl}
>-Ur r-
a^
/
132
LEVIATHAN
OF REASON AND SCIENCE
(33
xo^--*-*
x,rt-
Out of all which we may define, that is to say de-
termine, what that is, which is meant by this word rea-
son, when we reckon it amongst the faculties of the mind.
For REASON, in this sense, is yothing but reckoninz * that
is adding a nd_subtracting;^of thec onseq uences of general
names agreed upon for the marking and signifying of
our~lh~oughts ; I say marking them when we reckon by
ourselves, and signifying, when we demonstrate or ap-
prove our reckonings to other men.*
And, as in arithmetic, unpractised men must, and
professors themselves may often, err, and cast up false;
so also in any other subject of reasoning, the ablest, most
attentive, and most practised men may deceive themselves,
and infer false conclusions; not but that reason itself is
always right reason, as well as arithmetic is a certain
and infallible art : but no one man's reason, nor the reason
of any one number of men, makes the certainty ; no more
than an account is therefore well cast up, because a
great many men have unanimously approved it. And
therefore, as when there is a controversy in an account,
the parties must by their own accord, set up, for right
reason, the reason of some arbitrator, or judge, to whose
sentence they will both stand, or their controversy must
either come to blows, or be undecided, for want of a
right reason constituted by nature; so it is also in all
debates of what kind soever. And when men that
think themselves wiser than all others, clamour and de-
mand right reason for judge, yet seek no more, but that
things should be determined, by no other men's reason
but their own, it is as intolerable in the society of men, as
it is in play after trump is turned, to use for trump on
every occasion, that suite whereof thev have most in
* Compare above Elements of Philosophy, p. 4f.
their hand. For they do nothing else, that wUl tevc
every of their passions, as .t comes to bear sway m them,
"be taken for right reason, and that .n the.r o-n con-
Sroversies: bewraying their want of nght reason, by
the claim they lay to it.»
»<;a „ AUn Philosol>htcal Rudiments,
•Compare below p. «^' »■ „^l°°/thn« "» <•"•'•* "''*"•
houses, temples; to move "'7' J"f//*«nes serving for all
send securely over seas to contnveengin^^^ ^^^^^
manner of uses; to be well f J"^'?'*^ * "ns of Ae year, '^XT°* 7' the understanding of
partly to live, partly « l'^« "I',! ^'j it) is to be learnt from
these (because Christ "^a* not delivered «t)^t^^^
reasoning : that is to '^V' ^^ "J^^^^fgf^tTKF^iiHTSSon.
ing fir st taken th e beg-i^? f^^L^^" ^„i consequently,
inlrare sometimes-rSglSrsomet^^^^^^
that which IS concluded and M<1 *°' = l^^ these philosophical
sometimes error.. Now errors even awut ^ y^, ^j i
points, do sometimes ?"}>>«=.''";' J therefore, as oft as any
seditions and imunes. It is nee»« ^^*"."'"„.;oning. do search out
belong to the city For men. ^X "l^?™"^. ^„^^. .
such kind of definitions m «""' "X^ranoellations were used
tions. for the signification f"'^^ ^^°^,,^^&'Z u/cftnf«^
signs of evil, turpitudo: to which we have "O words precisely
answerable" Also De Corpore Politico, (M IV' J°9-lii;.
''Every n an by natural passion, calleth that good which pleaseth
him for the present, or so far forth as he can foresee and m hke
manner, that which displeaseth him, evil, ^nd therefore he tha^
foreseeth the whole way to his P^.^serva^ion^^ ^t Lo^^^ aSd
that every one by nature aimeth at, must also call it gooa, ana
he^ontrTry evil \nd this is that good and evil, which not ev^^^^^
man in passion calleth so, but. all men by ^^ason ^An^he^^^^^^^^^
the fulfilling of all these laws is good m reason, ^"^ *^e brea^^^^^
of them evil. And so also the habit, or disposition, or mteo^
tion to fulfill them good ; and the neglect of them evil. And from
m
LEVIATHAN
As, in sense, that which is really within us, is, as I
have said before, only motion, caused by the action of
external objects, but in apparence; to the sight, light
and colour; to the ear, sound; to the nostril, odour, &c. :
so, when the action of the same object is continued from
the eyes, ears, and other organs to the heart, the real
effect there is nothing but motion, or endeavour; which
consisteth in appetite, or aversion, to or from the object
moving. But the apparence, or sense of that motion, is
that we either call delight, or trouble of mind.
hence cometh that distinction of malum poenae, and malum
culpae ; for malum poenae is any pain or molestation of the mind
whatsoever; but malum culpae is that action which is contrary
to reason and the law of nature: as also the habit of doing ac-
cording to these and other laws of nature, that tend to our pres-
ervation, is that we call virtue; and the habit of doing the con-
trary, vice. As for example, justice is that habit by which we
stand to covenants, injustice the contrary vice; equity that habit
by which we allow equality of nature, arrogancy the contrary vice ;
gratitude the habit whereby we requite the benefit and trust of
others, ingratitude the contrary vice; temperance the habit by
which we abstain from all things that tend to our destruction, in-
temperance the contrary vice; prudence, the same with virtue in
general. As for the common opinion, that virtue consisteth in
mediocrity, and vice in extremes, I see no ground for it, nor can
find any such mediocrity. Courage may be virtue, when the dar-
ing is extreme, if the cause be good, and extreme fear no vice
when the danger is extreme. To give a man more than his due,
is no injustice, though it be to give him less: and in gifts it is
not the sum that maketh liberality, but the reason. And so in
all other virtues and vices. I know that this doctrine of medi-
ocrity is Aristotle's, but his opinions concerning virtue and vice,
are no other than those, which were received then, and are still
by the generality of men unstudied, and therefore not very likely
to be accurate. The sum of virtue is to be sociable with them
that will be sociable, and formidable to them that will not.
And the same is the sum of the law of nature: for in being
sociable, the law of nature taketh place by way of peace and
society ; and to be formidable, is the law of nature in war, where
to be feared is a protection a man hath from his own power:
and as the former consisteth in actions of equity and justice, the
latter consisteth in actions of honour. And equity, justice,
and honour, contain all virtues whatsoever." Also Questions
Concerning Liberty, (M. V, 192). "There hath been in the
OF PASSIONS
IS*
This motion, which is called appetite, and for the ap-
parence of it delight, and pleasure, seemeth to be a cor-
roboration of vital motion, and a help thereunto; and
therefore such things as caused delight, were not im-
properly called jucunda, a juvando, from helping or forti-
fying; and the contrary, molesta, offensive, from hin-
dering, and troubling the motion vital.
I Pleasure therefore, or delight, is the apparence, or
sense of good ; and molestation, or displeasure, the ap-
parence, or sense of evil. And consequently all appetite,
School^ derived from Aristotle's Metaphysics, an old proverb
father than an axiom: ens, bonum. et verum convertuntur.
From hence the Bishop hath taken this notion of a metaphys-
^al goodness, and his doctrine that whatsoever hath a bgng
fegood; and by this interpreteth the words of Gen. 1. 31 • CxOd
sal al that hi had made and it was very good. But the rea-
son of those words is, that good is relative to those that are
oleased with it, and not of absolute signification to all men.
Sod ther^ ore saith, that all that he had made was very good,
because he was pleased with the creatures of his own making
But H all things were absolutely good, we should be all pleased
w"th thdr being, which we are not, when the actions that de-
oend uoon their being are hurtful to us. And therefore, to
soe^k orooerly nothing is good or evil but in regard of the
a?tTon ?ha? p^ceedeth from it, and also of the person to whom
ft doth good or hurt Satan is evil to us, because he seeketh
our destruction, but good to God because he «ecuteth his com-
mandments. And so his metaphysical goodness is but an idle
term, and not the member of a distinction. And as for nat-
ural goodness and evilness, that also is but the goodness and
cvilness of actions ; as some herbs are good because they nourish,
others evil because they poison us ; and one horse is food because
he is gentle, strong, and carneth a man easily; another bad
because he r^sisteth, goeth hard, or otherwise displeaseth us; and
that quality of gentleness, if there were no more laws amongst
men than there is amongst beasts, would he as much a moral
good in a horse or other beast as in a man. It is the law from
whence proceeds the difference between the moral and the na^ura
goodness : so that it is well enough said^ by ,hmi, that moral
goodness is the conformity of an action with ngjt reason . ana
better said than meant ; for this right reason, which is the law.
is no otherwise certainly right than by our makmg it so by our
approbation of it and voluntary subjection to it. For the law-
makers are men. and may err, and think that law, which they
tS^
LEVIATHAN
OF PASSIONS
IS3
desire, and love, is accompanied with some delight more
or less ; and all hatred and aversion, with more or less
displeasure and offence.
Of pleasures or delights, some arise from the sense
of an object present ; and those may be called pleasure
of sense; the word sensual, as it is used by those only
that condemn them, having no place till there be laws.
Of this kind are all onerations and exonerations of the
body ; as also all that is pleasant, in the sight, hearing,
smell, taste, or touch. Others arise from the expecta-
make is for the good of the people sometimes when it is not.
And yi he actions of subjects, if they be conformable to the
Sw are morally good, and yet cease not to be naturally good
«,d' the pTaise of them passeth to the Author of nature, as w^
^ of any other good whatsover. From whence it appears that
moml pr^aise is not, as he says, from the good use of liberty
but from obedience to the laws ; nor moral dispraise from the
bad use of liberty, but from disobedience to the laws And for
hfs consequence, If all things be necessary, then moral liberty is
quite taken away, and with it all true praise and dispraise the ^
is neither truth in it, nor argument offered for it; for there is
nothine more necessary than the consequence of voluntary ac-
tTons tl the ^,7/. And 'whereas I had said thatto say a t^^^^^^^^
rood is to say it is as I or another would wish, or as the state
a have itf or according to the law of the land, he answers
that •! mistake infinitely.' And his reason is, because we often
wish what is profitable or delightful, without, regarding as we
ought what is honest.' There is no man hying that seeth all
the consequences of an action from the beginning to the end,
whereby to weigh the whole sum of the good with the whole
Turn of the evil consequence. We choose "/> .^ "^^^^ J^^^'^/" 7^/^"
weigh. That is good to every man, which is so far good as ne
Tn see. All the%eal good, which we call honest and morally
virtuous, is that which is not repugnant to the law evil or
natural; for the law is all the right reason we have, and (though
he as often as it disagreeth with his own reason, deny it),
is the infallible rule of moral goodness. The reason whereof
is this, that because neither mine nor the Bishop s reason is
right reason fit to be a rule of our moral actions, we have there-
fore set up over ourselves a sovereign governor, and agreed that
his laws shall be unto us, whatsoever they be in the P^ ace of
right reason, to dictate to us what is really good. In the same
manner as men in playing turn up trump, and as in playing their
game their morality consisteth in not renouncing, so in our
tion, that proceeds from foresight of the end, or conse-
quence of things ; whether those things in the sense please
»or displease. And these are pleasures of the mind of him
that draweth those consequences, and are generally called
JOY In the like manner, displeasures are some in the
"^Sise, and railed ^AiN ; others in the expectation of con-
sequences, and are called (aiFB ^*
These simple passions called appetite, desire, love,
aversion, hate, joy, and grief, have their names for divers
considerations diversified. As first, when they one suc-
ceed another, they are diversely called from the opinion
civil conversation our morality is all contained in not disobeying
""^'CompZt Elements of Philosophy, (M. I, 406). /'But there
is another kind of sense, of which I will say something in this
place, namely, the sense of pleasure and pain, proceeding not
from the reaction of the heart outwards, but from continual
action from the outermost part of the organ towards the heart.
For the original of life being in the heart, that motion in the
sentient, which is propagated to the heart, must necessarily make
some alteration or diversion of vital motion, namely, by quick-
ening or slackening, helping or hindering the same. Now when
it helpeth, it is pleasure ; and when it hindereth, it is pain, trou-
ble grief &c And as phantasms seem to be without, by reason
of the endeavour outwards, so pleasure and pain, by reason of
the endeavour of the organ inwards, seem to be within ; namely.
there where the first cause of the pleasure or pain is ; as when
the pain proceeds from a wound, we think the pain and the
wound are both in the same place." Also Human Nature (M.
IV, 31). "Conceptions and apparitions are nothing really, put
motion in some internal substance of the head; which motion
not stopping there, but proceeding to tht heart oi necessity
must there either hslp or hinder the motion which is called
vital: when it helpeth, it is called delight, contentment, or
pleasure, which is nothing really but motion about the heart,
as conception is nothing but motion in the head : and the objects
that cause it are called pleasant or delightful, or by some name
equivalent; the Latins have jucundum, a juvando, from helping;
and the same delight, with reference to the object, is called love.
but when such motion weakeneth or hindereth the vital motion,
then it is called pain; and in relation to that which causeth it.
hatred, which the Latins express sometimes by odium, and some-
times by taedium"
154
LEVIATHAN
OF PASSIONS
155
men have of the likelihood of attaining what they desire.
Secondly, from the object loved or hated. Thirdly, from
the consideration of many of them together. Fourthly,
from the alteration or succession itself-
For appetite, with an opinion of attaining, is called
HOPE.
The same, without such opinion, despair.
Aversion, with opinion of hurt from the object,
FEAR.
The same, with hope of avoiding that hurt by resis-
tance, COURAGE.
Sudden courage, anger.
Constant hope, confidence of ourselves.
Constant despair, diffidence of ourselves.
Anger for great hurt done to another, when we con-
ceive the same to be done by injury, indignation.
Desire of good to another, benevolence, good will,
charity. If to man generally, good naiure.
Desire of riches, covetousness ; a name used always
in signification of blame; because men contending for
them, are displeased with one another attaining them;
though the desire in itself, be to be blamed, or allowed,
according to the means by which these riches are sought.
Desire of office, or precedence, ambition: a name
used also in the worse sense, for the reason before men-
tioned.
Desire of things that conduce but a little to our ends,
and fear of things that are but of little hindrance, pus-
illanimity.
Contempt oiWiXl^ helps and hindrances, magnanim-
ity.
Magnanimity, in danger of death or wounds, valour,
fortitude-
Magnanimity in the use of riches, liberality.
I
Pusillanimity in the same, wretchedness, misera-
bleness, or parsimony ; as it is liked or disliked.
Love of persons for society, kindness.
/Love of persons for pleasing the sense only, natural
LUST.
Love of the same, acquired from rumination, that
is, imagination of pleasure past, luxury.
r Love of one singularly, with desire to be singularly
Ibeloved, the passion of love. The same, with fear
^that the love is not mutual, jealousy.
Desire, by doing hurt to another, to make him con-
demn some fact of his own, revengefulness.
Desire to know why, and how, curiosity ; such as is in
no living creature but man: so that man is distinguished,
not only by his reason, but also by this singular passion
from other animals; in whom the appetite of food, and
other pleasures of sense, by predominance, t^ke away
the care of knowing causes ; which is a lust of the mind,
that by a perseverance of delight in the continual and
indefatigable generation of knowledge, exceedeth the
short vehemence of any carnal pleasure.
Fear of power invisible, feigned by the mind, or im-
agined from tales publicly allowed, religion; not al-
lowed, superstition. And when the power imagined,
is truly such as we imagine, true religion.
Fear, without the apprehension of why, or what,
panic terror^ called so from the fables, that make Pan
the author of them; whereas, in truth, there is always
in him that so feareth, first, some apprehension of the
cause, though the rest run away by example, every one
supposing his fellow to know why. And therefore this
passion happens to none but in a throng, or multitude
of people.
Joy, from apprehension of novelty, admiration;
156
LEVIATHAN
OF PASSIONS
157
proper to man, because it excites the appetite of knowing
the cause* ,
Joy. arising from imagination of a man s own power
and ability, is that exultation of the mind which is
called glorying: which if grounded upon the ex^nence
of his own former actions, is the same with conUence.
but if grounded on the flattery of others; or only sup-
posed by himself, for delight in the consequences of it,
is called vain-glory: which name is properly given;
because a well grounded conMence begetteth attempt ;
whereas the supposing of power does not, and is there-
fore rightly called vain. „ . „
Grief, from opinion of want of power, is called de-
tection of mind. . . , • •
The vain-glorv which consisteth m the feignmg or
supposing of abilities in ourselves, which we know
are not, is most incident to young men, and nourished
by the histories, or fictions of gallant persons; and is
corrected oftentimes by age, and employment
Sudden glory, is the passion which maketh those
srimaces called laughter; and is caused either by some
sudden act of their own, that pleaseth them; or by the
apprehension of some deformed thing in another, by com-
parison whereof they suddenly applaud themselves. And
it is incident most to them, that are conscious of the
fewest abilities in themselves ; who are forced to keep
themselves in their own favour, by observing the im-
perfections of other men. And therefore much laughter
at the defects of others, is a sign of pusillanimity For
of great minds, one of the proper works is, to help and
free others from scorn; and compare themselves only
with the most able. • .u *
On the contrary, sudden dejection, is the passion that
causeth WEEPING ; and is caused by such accidents, as
i
n
>• J
suddenly take away some vehement hope, or some prop
of their power : and they are most subject to it, that rely
principally on helps external, such as are women, and
children. Therefore some weep for the loss of friends;
others for their unkindness; others for the sudden stop
made to their thoughts of revenge, by reconciliation.
But in all cases, both laughter, and weeping, are sud-
den motions; custom taking them both away. For no
man laughs at old jests; or weeps for an old calamity.
Grief, for the discovery of some defect of ability, is
SHAME, or the passion that discovereth itself in blush-
ing; and consisteth in the apprehension of some thing
dishonourable ; and in young men, is a sign of the love
of good reputation, and commendable; in old men it is
a sign of the same; but because it comes too late, not
commendable.
The contempt of good reputation is called impu-
dence.
Grief, for the calamity of another, is pity ; and aris-
eth from the imagination that the like calamity may befall
himself; and therefore is called also compassion, and
in the phrase of this present time a fellow.-feeling :
and therefore for calamity arriving from great wicked-
ness, the best men have the least pity ; and for the same
calamity those hate pity, that think themselves least
obnoxious to the same.
Contempt, or little sense of the calamity of others, is
that which men call cruelty ; proceeding from security
of their own fortune. For, that any man should take
pleasure in other men's great harms ; without other end of
his own, I do not conceive it possible.
Grief, for the success of a competitor in wealthy
honour, or other good, if it be joined with endeavour to
enforce our own abilities to equal or exceed him, is
158
LEVIATHAN
called emulation: but joined with endeavour to sup-
plant, or hinder a competitor, envy.
When in the mind of man, appetites, and aversions,
hopes, and fears, concerning one and the same thing,
arise alternately ; and divers good and evil consequences
of the doing, or omitting the thing propounded, come
successively into our thoughts; so that sometimes we
have an appetite to it; sometimes an aversion from it;
sometimes hope to be able to do it ; sometimes despair,
or fear to attempt it ; the whole sum of desires, aver-
sions, hopes and fears continued till the thing be either
done, or thought impossible, is that we call delibera-
tion.
Therefore ofthings past, there is no deliberation; be-
cause manifestly impossible to be changed : nor of things
known to be impossible, or thought so; because men
know, or think such deliberation vain. But of things
impossible, which we think possible, we may deliberate;
not knowing it is in vain. And it is called deliberation;
because it is a putting an end to the /tderty we had of do-
ing, or omitting, according to our own appetite, or aver-
sion.
This alternate succession of appetites, aversions,
hopes and fears, is no less in other living creatures than
in man : and therefore beasts also deliberate.
Every deliberation is then said to end, when that
whereof they deliberate, is either done, or thought im-
possible ; because till then we retain the liberty of doing,
or omitting; according to our appetite, or aversion.
I In deliberation, the last appetite, or aversion, im-
/ mediately adhering to the action, or to the omission
I thereof, is that we call the will ; the act, not the faculty,
of willing. And beasts that have deliberation, must nec-
essarily also have will The definition of the will, given
OF PASSIONS
159
commonly by the Schools, that it is a rational appetite,
is not good. For if it were, then could there be no vol-
untary act against reason. For a voluntary act is that,
which proceedeth from the will, and no other. But if
instead of a rational appetite, we shall say an appetite
resulting from a precedent deliberation, then the defini-
tion is the same that I have given here. Will, therefore ,
is the last appetite in deliberating;. And though we say
in common discourse, a man had a will once to do a
thing, that nevertheless he forbore to do; yet that is
properlv but an inclination, which makes no action vol-
untary ; because the action depends not of it, but of the
last inclination, or appetite. For if the intervenient ap-
petites, make any action voluntary; then by the same
reason all intervenient aversions, should make the same
action involuntary; and so one and the same action,
should be both voluntary and involuntary.
By this it is manifest, that not only actions that have
their beginning from covetousness, ambition, lust, or
other appetites to the thing propounded ; but also those
that have their beginning from aversion, or fear of those
consequences that follow the omission, are voluntary
actions.^
Compare Elements of Philosophy, (M. I, 408). "The con-
siderations of appetites and aversions arc divers. For seeing
living creatures have sometimes appetite and sometimes aver-
sion to the same thing, as they think it will either be for their
good or their hurt ; while that vicissitude of appetites and aver-
sions remains in them, they have that series of thoughts which
is called deliberation; which lasteth as long as they have it in
their power to obtain that which pleaseth, or to avoid that which
displeaseth them. Appetite, therefore, and aversion are simply
so called as long as they follow not deliberation. But if deliber-
.^t^o" have gone before, then the last act of it, if it be appetite,
is called will; if aversion, unzvillingness. So that the same thing
is called both will and appetite ; but the consideration of them,
namely, before and after deliberation, is divers. Nor is that
which is done within a man whilst he willeth any thing differ-
w6o
LEVIATHAN
OF PASSIONS
i6i
The forms of speech by which the passions are ex«
pressed, are partly the same, and partly different from
those, by which we express our thoughts. And first,
generally all passions may be expressed indicatively;
as / love, I fear, I joy, I deliberate, I will, I command:
but some of them have particular expressions by them-
selves, which nevertheless are not affirmations, unless it be
when they serve to make other inferences, besides that of
the passion they proceed from. Deliberation is expressed
siihjimctively , which is a speech proper to signify suppo-
sitions, with their consequences; as, if this be dofie, then
ent from that which is done in other living creatures, whilst,
deliberation having preceded, they have appetite. Neither is the
freedom of willing or not willing, greater in man. than in other
living creatures. For where there is appetite, the entire cause of
appetite hath preceded ; and, consequently, the act of appetite
could not choose but follow, that is, hath of necessity followed.
And therefore such a liberty as is free from necessity, is not to be
found in the will either of men or beasts. But if by hbcrty
we understand the faculty or power, not of willing, but of do-
ing what they will, then certainly that liberty is to be allowed
to both, and both may equally have it, whensoever it is to be
had." Also below p. 255, and Uviathan, (M. Ill, 360). ' Sense,
memory, understanding, reason, and opinion are not in our power
to change ; but always, and necessarily such, as the things we see.
hear, and consider suggest unto us ; and therefore are not effects
of our will, but our will of them." Also Human Nature, (M.
IV, 67). "It hath been declared already, how external objects
cause conceptions, and conceptions, appetite and fear, which are
the first unperceived beginnings of our actions: for either the
actions immediately follow the first appetite, as when we do
anything upon a sudden ; or else to our first appetite there suc-
ceedeth some conception of evil to happen to us by such actions,
which is fear, and which holdeth us from proceeding. And to
that fear may succeed a new appetite, and to that appetite an-
other fear alternately, till the action be either done, or some
accident come between, to make it impossible; and so this
alternate appetite and fear ceaseth. This alternate succession of
appetite and fear during all the time the action is in our power to
do or not 'o do, is that we call deliberation; which name hath
been given .t for that part of the definition wherein it is said
that it lasteth so long as the action, whereof we deliberate, is
in our power: for, so long we have liberty to do or not to
do; and deliberation signifieth a taking away of our own liberty.
i
this will follow; and differs not from the language of
reasoning, save that reasoning is in general words; but
deliberation for the most part is of particulars. The
language of desire, and aversion, is imperative; as do
this, forbear that; which when ithe party is obliged to do,
or forbear, is command; otherwise prayer; or else
counsel. The language of vain-glory, of indignation,
pity and revengefulness, optative: but of the desire to
know, there is a peculiar expression, called interroga-
tive; as, what is it, when shall it, how is it done, and why
so? other language of the passions I find none : for curs-
Deliberation therefore requireth in the action deliberated two con-
ditions; one, that it be future; the other, that there be hope of
doing it, or possibility of not doing it; for, appetite and fear
arc expectations of the future; and there is no expectation of
good, without hope; or of evil, without possibility: of neces-
fpries therefore there is no deliberation. In deliberation, the
last appetite, as also the last fear, is called will. viz. the last ap-
petite, will to do, or will to omit. It is all one therefore to say
will and last will: for, though a man express his present inclin-
ation and appetite concerning the disposing of his goods, by
words or writings ; yet shall it not be counted his will, because
he hath still liberty to dispose of them otherways: but when
death taketh away that liberty, then it is his will. Voluntary
actions and omissions are such as have beginning in the Tvill;
all other are involuntary, or mixed voluntary; involuntary, such
as he doth by necessity of nature, as when he is pushed, or fal-
leth, and thereby doth good or hurt to another: mixed, such as
participate of both ; as when a man is carried to prison, going is
voluntary, to the prison, is involuntary: the example of him
that throweth his goods out of a ship into the sea, to save his
person, is of an action altogether voluntary: for, there is noth-
ing therein involuntary, but the hardness of the choice, which
is not his action, but the action of the winds: what he himself
doth, is no more against his will, than to flee from danger is
against the will of him that seeth no other means to preserve
himself. Voluntary also are the actions that proceed from
sudden anger, or other sudden appetite in such men as can dis-
cern good or evil : for, in them the time precedent is to be
judged deliberation: for then also he deliberateth in what
cases it is good to strike, deride, or do any other action proceed-
ing from anger or other such sudden passion. Appetite, fear,
hope, and the rest of the passions are not called voluntary;
for they proceed not from, but are the will; and the will is not
l62
LEVIATHAN
OF PASSIONS
163
ing, swearing, reviling, and the like, do not signify as
speech ; but as the actions of a tongue accustomed.
These forms of speech, I say, are expressions, or
voluntary significations of our passions: but certain
signs they be not; because they may be used arbitrarily,
whether they that use them, have such passions or not.
The best signs of passions present, are either in the
countenance, motions of ihe body, actions, and ends,
or aims, which we otherwise know the man to have.
And because in deliberation, the appetites, and aver-
sions, are raised by foresight of the good and evil con-
voluntary: for, a man can no more say he will will, than he
will will will, and so make an infinite repetition of the word
[will] ; which is absurd, and insignificant. Forasmuch as will to
do is appetite, and will to omit, fear; the cause of appetite and
fear is the cause also of our will: but the propounding of the
benefits and of harms, that is to say, of reward and punishment,
•s the cause of our appetite, and of our fears, and therefore
also of our wills, so far forth as we believe that such rewards
and benefits as are propounded, shall arrive unto us; and conse-
quently, our wills follow our opinions, as our actions follow
our wills; in which sense they say truly, and properly, that
say the world is governed by opinion. When the wills of
many concur to one and the same action and effect, this con-
course of their wills is called consent; by which we must not
understand one will of many men, for every man hath his sever-
al will, but many wills to the producing of one effect : but when
the zvills of two divers men produce such actions as are recip-
rocally resistant one to the other, this is called contention; and,,
being upon the persons one of another, battle: whereas actions
proceeding from consent, are mutual aid. When many wills are
involved or included in the will of one or more consenting,
(which how it may be, shall be hereafter declared) then is that
involving of many wills in one or more, called union. In delib-
erations interrupted, as they may be by diversion of other busi-
ness, or by sleep, the last appetite of such part of the deliber-
ation is called intention, or purpose." Also Human Nature,
(M. IV., 240). "He is free to do a thing, that may do it if he
have the will to do it, and may forbear, if he have the will
to forbear. And yet if there be a necessity that he shall have the
wtU to do it, the action is necessarily to follow : and if there
be a necessity that he shall have the zvill to forbear, the forbear-
ing also will be necessary. The question therefore is not,
sequences, and sequels of the action whereof we delib-
erate; the good or evil effect thereof dependeth on the
foresight of a long chain of consequences, of which very
seldom any man is able to see the end. But for so far
as a man seeth, if the good in those consequences be
greater than the evil, the whole chain is that which
writers call apparent, or seeming good. And contrarily,
when the evil exceedeth the good, the whole is appar-
ent, or seeming evil: so that he who hath by experience,
or reason, the greatest and surest prospect of conse-
whether a man be a free agent, that is to say, whether he can
write or forbear, speak or be silent, according to his will; but,
whether the zvill to write, and the will to forbear, come upon him
according to his will, or according to anything else in his own
power. I acknowledge this liberty, that I can do it if I will; but
to say, I can will if I will, I take to be an absurd speech." Com-
pare also Leviathan, (M. Ill, 196), "Liberty, or freedom, sig-
nifieth, properly, the absence of opposition; by opposition, I
mean external impediments of motion; and may be applied
no less to irrational, and inanimate creatures, than to rational.
For whatsoever is so tied, or environed, as it cannot move but
within a certain space, which space is determined by the ex-
position of some external body, we say it hath not liberty to go
further. And so of all living creatures, whilst they are impris-
oned, or restrained, with walls, or chains; and of the water
whilst it is kept in by banks, or vessels, that otherwise would
spread itself into a larger space, we use to say, they are not at
liberty, to move in such manner, as without those external im-
pediments they would. But when the impediment of motion, is
in the constitution of the thing itself, we use not to say ; it wants
the liberty; but the power to move; as when a stone lieth still,
or a man is fastened to his bed by sickness. And according to
this proper, and generally received meaning of the word, a
FREEMAN, is he, that in those things, which by his strength
and wit he is able to do, is not hindered to do what he has a
will to. But when the words free, and liberty, are applied to
anything but bodies, they are abused ; for that which is not sub-
ject to motion, is not subject to impediment: and therefore,
when it is said, for example, the way is free, no liberty of the
way is signified, but of those that walk in it without stop. And
when we say a gift is free, there is not meant any liberty of the
gift, but of the giver, that was not bound by any law or cove-
nant to give it. So when we speak freely, it is not the liberty
of voice, or pronounciation, but of the man, whom no law
\
l64
LEVIATHAN
OF PASSIONS
165
quences, deliberates best himself; and is able when he
will, to give the best counsel unto others.
Continual success in obtaining those things which
a man from time to time desireth, that is to say, contin-
ual prospering, is that men call felicity; I mean the
felicity of this life. For there is no such thing as per-
jpetual tranquility of mind, while we live here; because
^^cM^* llife itself is but motion, and can never be without desire,
Inor without fear, no more than without sense. What
kind of felicity God hath ordained to them that devout-
ly honour Him, a man shall no sooner know, than en-
joy; being joys, that now are as incomprehensible, as
the word of school-men beatifical vision is unintelligible.
The form of speech whereby men signify their opin-
ion of the goodness of anything, is praise. That where-
hath obliged to speak otherwise than he did. Lastly, from the
use of the word free-will, no liberty can be inferred of the will,
desire, or inclination, but the liberty of the man; which con-
sisteth in this, that he finds no stop, in doing what he has the
will, desire, or inclination to do. ♦ * ♦ * ♦ Liberty, and
necessity are consistent: as in the water, that hath not only lib-
erty, but fl necessity of descending by the channel; so likewise
in the actions which men voluntarily do: which, because they pro-
ceed from their will, proceed from liberty; and yet, because
every act of man's will, and every desire, and inclination pro-
ceedeth from some cause, and that from another cause, in a
continual chain, whose first link is in the hand of God the first
of all causes, proceed from necessity. So that to him that could
see the connexion of those causes, the necessity of all men's
voluntary actions, would appear manifest. And therefore God,
that seeth, and disposeth all things, seeth also that the liberty
of man in doing what he will, is accompanied with the necessity
of doing that which God will, and no more, nor less. For though
men may do many things, which God does not command, nor is
therefore author of them ; yet they can have no passion, nor ap-
petite to anything, of which appetite God's will is not the cause.
And did not his will assure the necessity of man's will, and con-
sequently of all that on man's will dependeth, the liberty of men
would be a contradiction, and impediment to the omnipotence
and liberty of God. And this shall suffice, as to the matter in
hand, of that natural liberty, which only is properly called lib*
erty."
by they signify the power and greatness of anything,
is MAGNIFYING. And that whereby they signify the
opinion they have of a man's felicity, is by the Greeks
called fiaxapctTfiS^, for which we have no name in our
tongue. And thus much is sufficient for the present
purpose, to have been said of the passions.
SUPPLEMENT FROM
LIBERTY AND NECESSITY;
MY OPINION ABOUT LIBERTY AND NECESSITY.*
First I conceive, that when it cometh into a man's
mind to do or not to do some certain action, if he have
no time to deliberate, the doing it or abstaining neces-
sarily follow the present thought he hath of the good or
evil consequence thereof to himself. As for example,
in sudden ajtger, the action shall follow the thought of
revenge; in sudden fear, the thought of escape. Also
when a man hath time to deliberate, but deliberates not,
because never anything appeared that could make him
doubt of the consequence, the action follows his opinion
of the goodness or harm of it. These actions I call vol-
untary, my Lord, if I understand him aright that calls
them spontaneous. I call them voluntary, because
those actions that follow immediately the last appetite,
are voluntary, and here where is one only appetite, that
one is the last. Besides, I see it is reasonable to punish
a rash action, which could not be justly done by man
to man, unless the same were voluntary. For no ctction
of a man can be said to be without deliberation, though
never so sudden, because it is supposed he had time to
deliberate all the precedent time of his life, whether he
«M. IV, 272-278.
i66
LEVIATHAN
OF PASSIONS
167
>
should do that kind of action or not. And hence it is,
that he that killeth in a sudden passion of anger, shall
nevertheless be justly put to death, because all the time,
wherein he was able to consider whether to kill were
good or evil, shall be held for one continual deliberation,
and consequently the killing shall be judged to proceed
from election.
Secondly, I conceive when a man deliberates whether
he shall do a thing or not do it, that he does nothing else
but consider whether it be better for himself to do it or
not to do it. And to consider an action, is to imagine
the consequences of it, both good and evil. From whence
is to be inferred, that deliberation is nothing else but al-
ternate imagination of the good and evil sequels of an
action, or, which is the same thing, alternate hope and
fear, or alternate appetite to do or quit the action of
which he deliberateth.
Thirdly, I conceive that in all deliberations, that is
to say, in all alternate succession of contrary appetites,
the last is that which we call the will, and is immediately
next before the doing of the action, or next before the
doing of it become impossible. All other appetites to do,
and to quit, that come upon a man during his deliberations,
are called intentions and inclinations, but not zvills, there
being but one zmll, which also in this case may be called
the last will, though the intentions change often.
Fourthly, I conceive that those actions, which a man is
said to do uipon deliberation, are said to be voluntary, and
done upon choice and election, so that voluntary action,
and action proceeding from election is the same thing;
and that of a voluntary agent, it is all one to say, he is
free, and to say, he hath not made an end of deliberating.
Fifthly, I conceive liberty to be rightly defined in this
manner: Libert'^ is the absence of all the impediments
t o action that are not contained in the nature and intrinsic
ccd quality of the af^enL As for example, the water is
said to descend freely, or to have liberty to descend by
the channel of the river, because there is no impediment
that way, but not across, because the banks are impedi-
ments. And though the water cannot ascend, yet men
never say it wants the liberty to ascend, but the faculty
or power, because the impediment is in the nature of the
water, and intrinsical. So also we say, he that is tied,
wants the liberty to go, because the impediment is not
in nim, but in his bands; whereas we say not so of him
that is sick or lame, because the impediment is in himself.
Sixthly, I conceive that nothing taketh beginning
from itself, but from the action of some other immed-
iate agent without itself. And that therefore, when first
a man hath an appetite or will to something, to which
immediately before he had no appetite nor will, the cause
of his zvill, is not the will itself, but something else not in
his own disposing. So that whereas it is out of contro-
versy, that of voluntary actions the will is the necessary
cause, and by this which is said, the will is also caused
by other things whereof it disposeth not, it followeth,
that voluntary actions have all of them necessary causes,
and therefore are necessitated.
Seventhly, I hold that to be a sufficient cause, to
which nothing is wanting that is needful to the produc-
ing of the effect. The same also is a necessary cause
For if it be possible that a sufficient cause shall not
bring forth the effect, then there wantetb somewhait
which was needful to the producing of it, and so the
cause was not sufficient; but if it be impossible that a
sufficient cause should not produce the effect, then is a
sufficient cause a necessary cause, for that is said to
produce an effect necessarily that cannot but produce it.
I!
i68
LEVIATHAN
Hence it is manifest, that whatsoever is produced, is pro-
duced necessarily; for whatsoever is produced hath had
a sufficient cause to produce it, or else it had not been ;
and therefore also voluntary actions are necessitated.
Lastly, that ordinary definition of a free agent, name-
ly, that a free agent is that, which, zvhen all things ar^
present which are needful to produce the effect, can never- .
iheless not produce it, implies a contradiction, and is non-
sense; being as much as to say, the cause may be suf-
ficient, that is to say, necessary, and yet the effect shall
not follow.
MY REASONS.
For the first five points, wherein it is explicated i,
what spontaneity is; ii, what deliberation is; in, what
will, propension, and appettite are ; iv, what a free agent
is : V, what liberty is ; there can no other proof be offered
but every man's own experience, by reflection on himself,
and remembering what he useth in his mind, that is, what
he himself meaneth when he saith an action is spontane-
ous, a man deliberates; such is his will, that agent or
that action is free. Now he that reflecteth so on himself,
cannot but be satisfied, that deliberation is the considera-
tion of the good and evil sequels of an action to come;
that by spontaneity is meant inconsiderate action, or else
nothing is meant by it ; that will is the last act of our de-
. liberation; that aifree a^ent is hp that can do if he iml L
\ and forbe ar if he wilL\3nd that liberty is the ab sence of
\ cxternal impediments. ^ But to those that out of custom
speak not what they conceive, but what they hear, and
are not able, or will not take the pains to consider what
they think when they hear such words, no argument can
be sufficient, because experience and matter of fact are
not verified by other men's arguments, but by every
OF PASSIONS
169
man's own sense and memory. For example, how can it
be proved that to love a thing and to think it good is
all one, to a man that doth not mark his own meaning by
those words? Or how can it be proved that eternity is
not nunc stans to a man that says those words by custom,
and never considers how he can conceive the thing in his
mind ?
Also the sixth point, that a man cannot imagine any-
thing to begin without a cause, can no other way be made
known, but by trying how he can imagine it ; but if he try,
he shall find as much reason, if there be no cause of
the thing, to conceive it should begin at one time as an-
other, that he hath equal reason to think it should begin
at all times, which is impossible, and therefore he must
think there was some special cause why it began then,
rather than sooner or later; or else that it began never,
but was eternal.
For the seventh point, which is, that all events have
necessary causes, it is there proved, in that they have
sufficient causes. Further let us in this place also sup-
pose any event never so casual, as the throwing, for
example, ames ace upon a pair of dice, and see, if it must
not have been necessary before it was thrown. For see-
ing it was thrown, it had a beginning, and consequently
a sufficient cause to produce it, consisting partly in the
(//c^, partly in outward things, as the posture of the parts
of the hand, the measure of force applied by the caster,
the posture of the parts of the table, and the like. In sum,
there was nothing wanting which was necessarily re-
quisite to the producing of that particular cast, and con-
sequently the cast was necessarily thrown ; for if it had
not been thrown, there had wanted somewhat requisite
to the throwing of it, and so the cause had not been suf-
ficient. In the like manner it may be |3roved that every
170
LEVIATHAN
Other accident, how contingent soever it seem, or how
voluntary soever it be, is produced necessarily, which
is that that my Lord Bishop disputes against. The
same may be proved also in this manner. Let the case
be put, for example, of the weather. // is necessary that
to-morrow it shall rain or not rain. If therefore it be
not necessary it shall rain, it is necessary it shall not rain,
otherwise there is no necessity that the proposition, it
shall rain or not rain, should be true. I know there be
some that say, it may necessarily be true that one of the
two shall come to pass, but not, singly that it shall rain,
or that it shall not rain, which is as much to say, one of
them is necessary, yet neither of them is necessary; and
therefore to seem to avoid that absurdity, they make a
distinction, that neither of them is true determinate, but
indeterminate; which distinction either signifies no more
but this, one of them is true, but we know not which,
and so the necessity remains, though we know it not;
or if the meaning of the distinction be not that, it hath
no meaning, and they might as well have said, one of
them is true Titirice, but neither of them, Tu patulice.
The last thing, in which also consisteth the whole
controversy, namely that there is no such thing as an
agent, which when all things requisite to action are pres-
cut, can nevertheless forbear to produce it; or, which is
all one, that there is no such thing as freedom front ne-
cessity, is easily inferred from that which hath been before
alleged. For if it be an agent, it can work; and if it
work, there is nothing wanting of what is requisite to
produce the action, and consequently the cause of the
action is sufficient; and if sufficient, then also necessary,
as hath been proved before.
And thus you see how the inconveniences, which his
Lordship objecteth must follow upon tlie holding of
/
OF PASSIONS
I7«
necessity, are avoided, and the necessity itself demon-
stratively proved. To which I could add, if I thought
it good logic, the inconvenience of denying necessity, as
that it destroyeth both the decrees and the prescience of
God Almighty; for whatsoever God hath purposed to
bring to pass by man, as an instrument, or forseeth shall
come to pass ; a man, if he have liberty, such as his Lord-
ship affirmeth, from necessitation, might frustrate, and
make not to come to pass, and God should either not fore-
know it, and not decree it, or he should foreknow such
things shall be, as shall never be, and decree that which
shall never come to pass.
OF THE ENnS OF DISCOURSE
173
CHAPTER VII.
OF THE ENDS^ OR RESOLUTIONS OF DISCOURSE.
Of all discourse, governed by desire of knowledge,
there is at last an end, either by attaining, or by giving
over. And in the chain of discourse, wheresoever it
be interrupted, there is an end for that time.
If the discourse be merely mental, it consisteth of
thoughts that the thing will b^, and will not be; or that it
has been, and has not been, alternat^y. So that where-
soever you break off the chain of the man's discourse.
you leave him in a presumption of // will be, or, it will
not he; or, it has been, or, has not been. All which is
opinion} And that which is alternate appetite, in delib-
erating concerning good and evil; the same is alter-
nate opinion, in the enquiry of the truth of past, and fu-
ture. And as the last appetite in deliberation, is called
the will; so t he last op imnn j^ gpfif-r ji^ of the J tmiL-Qi
past, an d_Jutm:g ^ is called the judgment. ^ or resolute
and final sentence of him that discourseth. And as the
whole chain of appetites alternate, in the question of
^ Compare above p. 160, n. 5.
/Hobbes does not usually use the term in this sense. For
his usual meaning compare above p. 113, n. i.. below p. 179.
^nd Human Nature, (M. IV, 55). "A man delighteth himself
either with finding expected similitude of things, otherwise much
unlike, in which men place the excellency of fancy, * * *
* * * * or else in discerning suddenly dissimilitude in
things that otherwise appear the same. And this virtue of the
mind is that by which men attain to exact and perfect knowl-
edge; and the pleasure thereof consisteth in continual instruc-
tion, and in distinction of places, persons, and seasons, and is
commonly termed by the name of judgment; for, to judge is
nothing else, but to distinguish or discern : and both fancy and
Judgment are commonly comprehended under the name of wit,
which seemeth to be a tenuity and agility of spirits, contrary to
that restiness of the spirits supposed in those that are dull."
good, or bad, is called deliberation; so the whole chain
of opinions alternate, in the question of true, or false,
is called doubt.
No discourse whatsoever, can end in absolute knowl-
edge of fact, past, or to come. For, as for the knowl^
edge of fact, it is originally, sense ; and ever after, mem-
ory. And for the knowledge of consequence, which I
h ave said before is called science, it is not absolute, bu t
cOT^ituMM^- No man can know by discourse, that this,
or that, is, has been, or will be ; which is to know abso-
lutely : but only, that if this be, that is ; tf this has been,
that has been; if this shall be, that shall be: which is
to know conditionally ; and that not the consequence of
one thing to another; but of one name of a thing, to
another name of the same thing.
And therefore, when the discourse is put into speech,
and begins with the definitions of words, and proceeds
by connexion of the same into general affirmations, and
of these again into syllogisms; the end or last sum is
called the conclusion; and the thought of the mind by
it signified, is that conditional knowledge, or knowl-
edge of the consequence of words, which is commonly
called SCIENCE.' But if the first ground of such dis-
course, be not definitions; or if the definitions be not
rightly joined together into syllogisms, then the end or
conclusion, is again opinion , namely of the truth of some-
what said, though sometimes in absurd and senseless
words, without possibility of being understood. When
two, or more men, know of one and the sam.e fact, they
are said to be conscious of it one to another ; which is
as much as to know it together. And because such are
fittest witnesses of the facts of one another, or of a
•For other references to knowledge and science see above
Chapter V, below Chapter IX, and index.
174
LEVIATHAN
third; it was, and ever will be reputed a very evil act,
for any man to speak against his conscience: or to cor-
rupt or force another so to do: insomuch that the plea
of conscience, has been always hearkened unto very dil-
igently in all times. Afterwards, men made use of the
same word metaphorically, for the knowledge of their
own secret facts, and secret thoughts; and therefore
it is rhetorically said, that the conscience is a thousand
witnesses. And last of all, men, vehemently in love
with their own new opinions, though never so absurd,
and obstinately bent to maintain them, gave those their
opinions also that reverenced name of conscience, as if
they would have it seem unlawful, to change or speak
against them; and so pretend to know they are true,
when they know at most, but that they think so.*
* Compare Human Nature, (M. IV, 29). "It is either set-
ence or opinion which we commonly mean by the word con-
science: for men say that such and such a thing is true in or up-
on their conscience ; which they never do, when they think it
doubtful; and therefore they know, or think they know it to be
true. But men, when they say things upon their conscience, arc
not therefore presumed certainly to know the truth of what
they say ; it remaineth then, that that word is used by them that
have an opmton, not only of the truth of the thing, but also of
their knowledge of it, to which the truth of the proposition is
consequent. Conscience I therefore define to be opinion of evi-
dence. (M. IV, 163). '*A subject may no more govern his
o^n actions according to his own discretion and judgment, or,
which IS all one, conscience, as the present occasions from time
to time shall dictate to him; but must be tied to do according
to that will only, which once for all he had long ago laid up, and
myolved in the wills of the major part of an assembly, or in the
will of some one man. But this is really no inconvenience. For.
as It hath been showed before, it is the only means, by which we
have any possibility of preserving ourselves. For if every man
w-ere allowed this liberty of following his conscience, in such dif-
ference of consciences, they would not live together in peace an
Hour. But It appeareth a great inconvenience to every man in
particular, to be debarred of this liberty, because every one
apart considereth it as in himself, and not as in the rest; by
which means, liberty appeareth in the likeness of rule and gov-
ernment over others. For where one man is at liberty, and the
OF THE ENDS OF DISCOURSE
m
When a man's discourse beginneth not at definitions,
it beginneth either at some other contemplation of his
own, and then it is still called opinion; or it beginneth
at some saying of another, of whose ability to know
the truth, and of whose honesty in not deceiving, he
doubteth not; and then the discourse is not so much
concerning the thing, as the person; and the resolution
is called belief, and faith: faith, in the man; belief ^
both of the man, and of the truth of what he says. So
that in belief are two opinions : one of the saying of the
man ; the other of his virtue. To have faith in, or trust
to, or believe a man, signify the same thing; namely,
an opinion of the veracity of the man: but to believe
what is scud, signifieth only an opinion of the truth of
the saying. But we are to observe that this phrase,
/ believe in; as also the Latin, credo in; and the Greek,
mffrevm e't?, are never used but in the writings of di-
rest bound, there that one hath government; which honour, he
that understandeth not so much, demanding by the name simply
of liberty, thinketh it a great grievance and injury to be denied
it." (M. IV. 172). "To take away this scruple of conscience,
ccncerning obedience to human laws, amongst those that inter-
pret to themselves the word of God in the Holy Scriptures, I
propound to their consideration, first, that no human law is in-
tended to oblige the conscience of a man, unless it break out into
action, either of the tongue, or other part of the body. The law
made thereupon would be of none effect, because no man is able
to discern, but by word or other action whether such law be
kept or broken." (M. IV, 186). "And though it be true,
whatsoever a man does against his conscience, is sin ; yet the
obedience in these cases, is neither sin, nor against the con-
science. For the conscience being nothing else but a man's
settled judgment and opinion, when he hath once transferred his
right of judging to another, that which shall be commanded,
is no less his judgment, than the judgment of that other. So that
in obedience to laws, a man doth still according to his own con-
science, but not his private conscience. And whatsoever is done
contrary to private conscience, is then a sin, when the laws have
left him to his own liberty, and never else. And then whatsoever
a man doth, not only believing it is ill done, but doubting wheth-
er it be ill or not, is done ill, in case he may lawfully omit the
176
LEVIATHAN
vines. Instead of them, in other writings are put, / be-
lieve him; I trust him; I have faith in him; I rely on
him: and in Latin, credo illi: Udo illi: and in Greeks
wtffTeuu} auT^: and that this singularity of the ecclesiastic
use of the word hath raised many disputes about the
right object of the Christian faith.
But by believing in, as it is in the creed, is meant,
not trust in the person; but confession and acknowl-
edgement of the doctrine. For not only Christians,
but all manner of men do so believe in God, as to hold
all for truth they hear him say, whether they under-
stand it, or not ; which is all the faith and trust can pos-
sibly be had in any person whatsoever: but they do not
all believe the doctrine of the creed.
From whence we may infer, that when we believe
any saying whatsoever it be, to be true, from argu-
ments taken, not from the thing itself, or from the prin-
ciples of natural reason, but from the authority, and
good opinion we have, of him that hath said it; then is
the speaker, or person we believe in, or trust in, and
whose word we take, the object of our faith ; and the
honour done in believing, is done to him only. And
consequently, when we believe that the Scriptures are
doing." Also Leviathan (M. Ill, 311). "Another doctrine repug-
nant to civil society, is, that whatsoever a man does against his
conscience, is sin; and it dependeth on the presumption of making
himself judge of good and evil. For a man's conscience, and his
judgment is the same thing, and as the judgment, so also the
conscience may be erroneous. Therefore, though he that is
subject to np civil law, sinneth in all he does against his con-
science, because he has no other rule to follow but his own reason ;
yet it is not so with him that lives in a commonwealth; because
the law is the public conscience, by which he hath already under-
taken to be guided. Otherwise in such diversity, as there is of
private consciences, which are but private opinions, the common-
wealth must needs be distracted, and no man dare to obey the
sovereign power, further than it shall seem good in his own
eyes."
OF THE ENDS OF DISCOURSE
177
the word of God, having no immediate revelation from
God himself, bur belief, faith, and trust is in the church ;
whose word we take, and acquiesce therein. And they that
believe that which a prophet relates unto them in the
name of God, take the word of the prophet, do honour
to him, and in him trust, and believe, touching the truth
of what he relateth, whether it be a true, or a false
prophet. And so it is also with all other history. For if
I should not believe all that is written by historians, of
the glorious acts of Alexander, or Caesar; I do not think
the ghost of Alexander, or Caesar, had any just
cause to be offended ; or anybody else, but the historian.
If Livy say the gods made once a cow speak, and we
believe it not ; we distrust not God therein, but Livy, So
that it is evident, that whatsoever we believe, upon no
other reason, than what is drawn from authority of men
only, and their writings ; whether they be sent from God
or not, is faith in men only.**
•Compare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II. 394)- P"^J^^
our reasons, for which we assent to some proposition, deme not
from the proposition itself, but from the person propounding,
whSJn we esteem so learned that he is not deceived and we ^ee no
reason why he should deceive us ; our assent, because it grows not
from any confidence of our own, but from another man s knowl-
edgT, is called faith. And by the confidence of whom we do be-
lieve we are said to trust them, or to trust m them. By what
hath b^en said! the difference appears, first,>etween /atf/i and
profession; for that is always joined with inward assent this
hot always. That is an inward persuasion of the mind, this an
Sutwa^d obedience. Next, between /a»U and optmon: for this de-
pends on our own reason, that on the good esteem we have of an-
other Lastly, between faith and knowledge; for this deliberately
?akes a prop^^^^^^^ broU and chewed; that swallows it down
whole and entire. The explication of words, whereby the matter
enquired after is propounded, is conducible to knowledge nay,
the only way to knozv, is by definition. But this is Pjej^diaal ^
faith; for those things which exceed human capacity, and are pro-
pounded to be believed, are never more evident by exphca on,
but, on the contrary, more obscure and harder to be credited.
And the same thing befalls a man, who endeavours to demon-
INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES
179
CHAPTER VIII.
OF THE VIRTUES COMMONLY CALLED INTELLECTUAL; AND
THEIR CONTRARY DEFECTS.
Virtue generally, in all sorts of subjects, is some-
what that is valued for eminence ; and consisteth in com-
parison. For if all things were equal in all men, noth-
ing would be prized. And by virtues intellectual , are
always understood such abilities ot the mind, as men
praise, value, and desire should be in themselves; and
go commonly under the name o f a zood wit; though the
same word wit, be used also, to distinguish one certain
ability from the rest.*
These virtues are of two sorts: natural^^ ^nAnr.
quired. By natural, I mean not, that whiciTlTman
hath from his birth: for that is nothing else but sense;
wherein men differ so little one from another, and from
brute beasts, as it is not to be reckoned amongst vir-
tues. But I mean, that ivit, which is gotten by use
only, and experience; without method, culture, or in-
strate the mysteries of faith by natural reason, which happens to
a sick man who will needs chew before he will swallow his whole-
some but bitter pills ; whence it comes to pass, that he presently
brings them up again ; which perhaps would otherwise, if he had
taken them well down, have proved his remedy." Also Human
Nature, (M. IV, 30). ^Belief, which is the admitting of IVoZ
ositions upon trust, in many cases is no less free from doubt than
perfect and manifest knozvledge: for as there is nothing whereof
there is not some cause ; so, when there is doubt, there must be
some cause thereof conceived. Now there be many things which
we receive from report of others, of which it is impossible to im-
agine any cause of doubt: for what can be opposed against the
conS*ent of all men, in things they can know, and have no cause to
report otherwise than they are, such as is a great part of our
histories, unless a man would say that all the world had consHred
to deceive htm."
*For the distinction of moral virtues see above p. 147, n. 3.
struction. This natu^^l wit , consisteth principally
in two things ;^Ierity nf imagining, that is, swift suc-
cession of one thought to another ; a nd steady direction
to some approved end. On the contrary a slow imag-
ination, maketh that defect, or fault of the mind, which
is commonly called dullness, stupidity, and sometimes
by other names that signify slowness of motion, or
difficulty to be moved.
And this difference of quickness, is caused by the
difference of men's passions ; that love and dislike, some
one thing, some another: and therefore some men's
thoughts run one way, some another; and are held to,
and observe differently the things that pass through
their imagination. And whereas in this succession of
men's thoughts, there is nothing to observe in the things
they think on, but either in what they be like one an-
other, or in what they be unlike, or what they serve for,
or how they serve to such a purpose; those that ob-
serve their similitudes, in case they be such as are but
rarely observed by others, are said to have a good wit;
by which, in this occasion, is meant a good fancy. But
they that observe their differences, and dissimilitudes;
which is called distinguishing, and discerning, and
judging between thing and thing; in case, such dis-
cerning be not easy, are said to have a good judgment;
and particularly in matter of conversation and business;
wherein, times, places, and persons are to be discerned,
this virtue is called discretiox. The former, that is,
f ancy, without the help of judgment, is not commended
gs a virtue : but the latter which is judgment, and dis-
cretion, is commended for itself, without the help of
fancy. Besides the discretion of times, places, and per-
sons, necessary to a good fancy, there is required also
an often application of his thoughts to their end; that
1
lao
LEVIATHAN
INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES
I«3
is to say, to some use to be made of them. This done;
he that hath this virtue, will be easily Rtted with simil-
itudes, that will please, not only by illustrations of his
discourse, and adorning it with new and apt metaphors ;
but also, by the rarity of their invention. But with-
out steadiness, and direction to some end, a great fancy
is one kind of madness ; such as they have, that entering
into any discourse, are snatched from their purpose, by
every thing that comes in their thought, into so many,
and so long digressions, and parentheses, that they
utterly lose themselves : which kind of folly, I know no
particular name for: but the cause of it is, sometimes
want of experience; whereby that seemeth to a man
new and rare, which doth not so to others : sometimes
pusillanimity ; by which that seems great to him, which
other men think a trifle : and whatsoever is new, or great,
and therefore thought fit to be told, withdraws a man
by degrees from the intended way of his discourse.
In a good poem, whether it be epic, or dramatic; as
also m sonnets, epigrams, and other pieces, both jud g-
ment and fancv are requ ired: but the fancy musf be
more eminent : because they please for the extravagancy;
but ought not to please by indiscretion.
In a good history, the judgment must be eminent;
because the goodness consisteth, in the method, in the
truth, and in the choice of the actions that are most
profitable to be known. Fancy has no place, but only
in adorning the style.
In orations of praise, and in invectives, the fancy
is predominant; because the design is not truth, but
to honour or dishonour; which is done by noble, or by
vile comparisons. The judgment does but suggest
what circumstances make an action laudable, or cul-
pable.
In hortatives, and pleadings, as truth, or disguise
serveth best to the design in hand ; so is the judgment,
or the fancy most required. ^
In demonstration, in counsel, and all rigorous search
of truth, judgment does all, except sometimes the under-
standing have need to be opened by some apt similitude ;
and then there is so much use of fancy. But for meta-
phors, they are in this case utterly excluded. For seeing
they openly profess deceit ; to admit them into counsel,
or reasoning, were manifest folly.
And in any discourse whatsoever, if the defect of dis-
cretion be apparent, how extravagant soever the fancy
be, the whole discourse will be taken for a sign of want
of' wit ; and so will it never when the discretion is
manifest, though the fancy be never so ordinary.
The secret thoughts of a man run over all things,
holy, profane, clean, obscene, grave, and light, without
shame, or blame; which verbal discourse cannot do,
farther than the judgment shall approve of the time,
place, and persons. An anatomist, or a physician may
speak, or write his judgment of unclean things; because
it is not to please, but profit: but for another man to
write his extravagant, and pleasant fancies of the same,
is as if a man, from being tumbled into the dirt, should
come and present himself before good company. And
it is the want of discretion that makes the difference
Again, in professed remissness of mind, and familiar
company, a man may play with the sounds, and equivo-
cal significations of words ; and that many times with en-
counters of extraordinary fancy : but in a sermon, or in
public, or before persons unknown, or whom we ought
to reverence; there is no gingling of words that will
not be accounted folly : and the difference is only in the
want of discretion. So that where wit is wanting, it i»
A
hS2
LEVIATHAN
INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES
183
not fancy that is wanting, but discretion. Judgment
therefore without fancy is wit, but fancy without judg-
ment, not.
When the thoughts of a man, that has a design in
hand, running over a multitude of things, observes how
they conduce to that design ; or what design they may
conduce tmto; if his observations be such as are not
easy, or usual, this wit of his is called PRuofiiio:; and
depends on much experience, and memory of the like
things, and their consequences heretofore. In which
there is not' so much difference of men; as there is in
their fancies and judgment; because the experience of
men equal in age, is not much unequal, as to the quan-
tity; but lies in different occasions; every one having
his private designs. To govern well a family, and-^
^kingdpm ^are not different decrees of p rud ence; but
different sorts of busmess: n o nriore than tn Hmw o piV-
ture in little, or as great, or greater than the life, are
different degrees of art. A plain husbandman is more
prudent in affairs of his own house, than a privy-
councillor in the affairs of another man.
To prudence, if you add the use of unjust, or dis-
honest means, such as usually are prompted to men by
fear, or want; you have that crooked wisdom, which is
called c_RAFT ; which is the sign of pusillanimity. For
magnanimity is contempt of unjust, or dishonest helps.
And that which the Latins call versutia, translated into
English, shifting, and is a putting off of a present dang-
er or incommodity, by engaging into a greater, as when
a man robs one to pay another, is but a shorter-sighted
craft, called versutia, from verstira, which signifies tak-
ing money at usury for the present payment of interest.
As for acquired wit, I mean acquired by method
and instruction, there is none but reason; which
^
grounded on the right use of speech, and produceth the
sciences. But of reason and science I have already spok-*
en, in the fifth and sixth chapters.
The causes of this difference of wits, are in the pas-
sions; and the difference of passions proceedeth, partly
from the different constitution of the body, and partly
from different education. For if the difference proceed-
ed from the temper of the brain, and the organs of sense,
either exterior or interior, there would be no less differ-
ence of men in their sight, hearing, or other senses, than
in their fancies and discretions. It proceeds therefore
from the passions; which are different, not only from
the difference of men's complexions ; but also from their
difference of customs, and education.'
is
Compare Human Nature, (M. IV. 54)- "Having shewed
in Uie precedent chapters, that sense proceedeth from the ac-
tion of external objects upon the brain, or some internal sub-
stance of the head; and that the passions proceed from the al-
teration there made, and continued to the heart; it is conse-
quent in the next place, seeing the diversity of degrees in knowl-
edge in divers men, to be greater than may be ascribed to the
divers tempers of their brain, to declare what other causes may
produce such odds, and excess of capacity, as we daily observe
in one man above another. As for that difference which ariseth
from sickness, and such accidental distempers, I omit the same,
as impertinent to this place, and consider it only in such as have
their health, and organs well disposed. If the difference were
in the natural temper of the brain, I can imagine no reason why
the same should not appear first and most of all in the senses,
which being equal both in the wise and less wise, infer an
equal temper in the common organ (namely the brain) of all
the senses. But we see by experience, that joy and grief proceed
not in all men from the same causes, and that men differ very
much in the constitution of the body ; whereby, that which help-
eth and furthereth vital constitution in one, and is therefore de-
lightful, hindereth it and crosseth it in another, and therefore
causeth grief. The difference therefore of Tvits hath its original
from the different passions, and from the ends to which the ap-
petite leadeth them. And first, those men whose ends are sens-
ual delight, and generally are addicted to ease, food, onerattons
and exonerations of the body, must needs be the less thereby de-
lighted with those imaginations that conduce not to those ends.
«4
LEVIATHAN
INTELLIGENT VIRTUES
i8S
The passions that most of all cause the difference of
wit, are principally, the more or less desire of power,
of riches, of knowledge, and of honour. All which mayj
be reduced to the first, that is, desire of power. For
riches, knowledge, and honour, are but several sorts of
power.
And therefore, a man who has no great passion fof
any of these things; but is, as men term it, indifferent;
though he may be so far a good man, as to be free from
giving offence; yet he cannot possibly have either a
great fancy, or much judgment. For the thoughts are
to the desires, as scouts, and spies, to range abroad, and
find the way to the things desired : all steadiness of the
mind's motion, and all quickness of the same, proceed-
ing from thence : for as to have no desire, is to be dead :
so to have weak passions, is dullness ; and to have pas-
sions indifferently for everything, giddiness^ and dis-
traction; and to have stronger and more vehement pas-
sions for anything, than is ordinarily seen in others, is
that which men call madness^
Whereof there be almost as many kinds, as of the
passions themselves. Sometimes the extraordinary and
extravagant passion, proceedeth from the evil constitu-
tion of the organs of the body, or harm done them;
and sometimes the hurt, and indisposition of the organs,
such as are imaginations of honour and glory, which, as I have
said before, have respect to the future: for sensuality consisteth
in the pleasure of the senses, which please only for the present,
and take away the inclination to observe such things as conduce
to honour, and consequently maketh men less curious, and less
ambitious, whereby they less consider the way either to knowl-
edge or other power; in which two consisteth all the excellency
of power cognitive. And this is it which men call dullness, and
proceedeth from the appetite of sensual or bodily delight.
And It may well be conjectured that such passion hath its be-
gmnmg from a grossness and difficulty of the motion of the spir-
it about the heart.''
f
ii caused by the vehemence, or long continuance of the
passion. But in both cases the madness is of one and
the same nature.
The passion, whose violence, or continuance, maketh
madness, is either great vain-glory; which is commonly
called pride, and self -conceit ; or great dejection of mind.
Pride, subjecteth a man to anger, the excess where-
of, is the madness called RAGE^and fury. And thus it
comes to pass that excessive desire of revenge, when it
becomes habitual, hurteth the organs, and becomes rage :
that excessive love, with jealousy, becomes also rage:
excessive opinion of a man's own self, for divine inspir-
ation, for wisdom, learning, form and the like, becomes
distraction and giddiness: the same, joined with envy,
rage: vehement opinion of the truth of anything, con-
tradicted by others, rage.
Dejection subjects a man to causeless fears; which 5^^+^^
is a madness, commonly called melancholy ; apparent ^* *^
also in divers manners; as in haunting of solitudes
and graves; in superstitious behaviour; and in fearing,
some one, some another particular thing. In sum, all
passions that produce strange and unusual behaviour,
are called by the general name of madness. But of the
several kinds of madness, he that would take the pains,
might enrol a legion. And if the excesses be madness,
there is no doubt but the passiais themselves, when
they tend to evil, are degrees of the same.
For example, though the effect of folly, in them that
are possessed of an opinion of being inspired, be not
visible always in one man, by any very extravagant ac-
tion, that proceedeth from such passion ; yet, when many
of them conspire together, the rage of the whole multi-
tude is visible enough. For what argument of madness
can there be greater, than to clamour, strike, and throw
Ii
i86
- LEVIATHAN
INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES
187
stones at our best friends? Yet this is somewhat less'
than such a multitude will do. For they will clamour,
fight against, and destroy those, by whom all their life-
time before, they have been protected, and secured from
injury. And if this be madness in the multitude, it is
the same in every particular man. For as in the midst of
the sea, though a man perceive no sound of that part
of the water next him, yet he is well assured, that part
contributes as much to the roaring of the sea, as any oth-
er part of the same quantity; so also, though we per-
ceive no great unquietness in one or two men, yet we
may be well assured, that their singular passions, are
parts of the seditious roaring of a troubled nation. And
if there were nothing else that bewrayed their madness ;
yet that very arrogating such inspiration to themselves,
is argument enough. If some man in Bedlam should
entertain you with sober discourse; and you desire in
taking leave, to know what he were, that you might
another time requite his civility ; and he should tell you,
he were God the Father; I think you need expect no
extravagant action for argimient of his madness.
This opinion of inspiration, called commonly, private
spirit, begins very often, from some lucky finding of an
error generally held by others ; and not knowing, or not
remembering, by what conduct of reason, they came to
so singular a truth, (as they think it, though it be
many times an untruth they light on) they presently
admire themselves, as being in the special grace of God
Almighty, who hath revealed the same to them super-
naturally, by his Spirit.
Again, that madness is nothing else, but too much
appearing passion, may be gathered out of the effects
of wine, which are the same with those of the evil dis-
position of the organs. For the variety of behaviour
in men that have drunk too much, is the same with that
of madmen : some of them raging, others loving, others
laughing, all extravagantly, but according to their sever-
al domineering passions : for the effect of the wine, docs
but remove dissimulation, and take from them the sight
of the deformity of their passions. For, I believe, the
most sober men, when they walk alone without care and
employment of the mind, would be unwilling the vanity
and extravagance of their thoughts at that time should
be publicly seen; which is a confession, that passions
unguided, are for the most part mere madness.
The opinions of the world, both in ancient and later
ages, concerning the cause of madness, have been two.
Some deriving them from the passions; some, from de-
mons, or spirits, either good or bad, which they thought
might enter into a man, possess him, and move his organs
in such strange and uncouth manner, as madmen use to do.
The former sort therefore, called such men, madmen : but
the latter, called them sometimes demoniacs, that is, pos-
sessed with spirits; sometimes enurgumeni,th2it is,agitated
or moved with spirits ; and now in Italy they are called,
not only pazci, madmen; but also spiritati, men pos-
sessed.
There was once a great conflux of people in Abdera,
a city of the Greeks, at the acting of the tragedy of An-
dromeda, upon an extreme hot day; whereupon, a great
many of the spectators falling into fevers, had this ac-
cident from the heat, and from the tragedy together,
that they did nothing but pronounce iambics, with the
names of Perseus and Andromeda; which, together with
the fever, was cured by the coming on of winter; and
this madness was thought to proceed from the passion
imprinted by the tragedy. Likewise there reigned a fit
of madness in another Grecian city, which seized only the
^ tVV^Vv^<5
i88
LEVIATHAN
young maidens; and caused many of them to hang
themselves. This was by most then thought an act of
the Devil. But one that suspected, that contempt of life
in them, might proceed from some passion of the mind,
and supposing that they did not contemn also their hon-
our, gave counsel to the magistrates, to strip such as so
hanged themselves, and let them hang out naked. This*
the story says, cured that madness. But on the other*
side, the same Grecians, did often ascribe madness to
the operation of Eumenides, or Furies; and some-
times of Ceres, Phoebus, and other gods; so much did
men attribute to phantasms, as to think them aereal liv-
ing bodies; and generally to call them spirits. And as
the Romans in this, held the same opinion with the
Greeks, so also did the Jews; for they called madmeri
prophets, or, according as they thought the spirits good
or bad, demoniacs; and some of them called both proph-
ets and demoniacs, madmen; and some called the same
man both demoniac, and madman. But for the Gentiles
it is no wonder, because diseases and health, vices and
virtues, and many natural accidents, were with them
termed, and worshipped as demons. So that a man was
to understand by demon, as well, sometimes an ague,
as a devil. But for the Jews to have such opinion, is
somewhat strange. For neither Moses nor Abraham
pretended to prophecy by possession of a spirit; but
from the voice of God; or by a vision or dream: nor
is there anything in his law, moral or ceremonial, by
which they were taught, there was any such enthusiasm,
or any possession. When God is said, (Numb. xi. 25)
to take from the spirit that was in Moses, and give to
the seventy elders, the Spirit of God (taking it for the
substance of God) is not divided. The Scriptures, by
the Spirit of God in man, mean a man's spirit, inclined
INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES
189.
to godliness. And where it is said, {Exod. xxiii. 8)
**whoni I have filled with the spirit of wisdom to make,
garments for Aaron/* is not meant a spirit put into
them, that can make garments, but the wisdom of their
own spirits in that kind of work. In the like sense, the
spirit of man, when it produceth unclean actions, is ordin- .
arily called an unclean spirit, and so other spirits, though
not always, yet as often as the virtue or vice so styled,
is extraordinary, and eminent. Neither did the other
prophets of the old Testament pretend enthusiasm; or,
that God spake in them; but to them, by voice, vision,
or dream ; and the burthen of the Lord was not posses-
sion, but command. How then could the Jews fall into
this opinion of possession? I can imagine no reason,
but that which is common to all men ; namely, the want
ot curiosity to search natural causes: and their placing
felicity in the acquisition of the gross pleasures of the
senses, and the things that most immediately conduce
thereto. For they that see any strange, and unusual
ability, or defect, in a man's mind ; unless they see with-
al, from what cause it may probably proceed, can hardly
think it natural ; and if not natural, they must needs think
it supernatural; and then what can it be, but
that either God or the Devil is in him? And
hence it came to pass, when our Saviour (Mark iii. 21)
was compassed about with the multitude, those of the
house doubted he was mad, and went out to hold him:
but the Scribes said he had Beelzebub, and that was it,
by which he cast out devils; as if the greater madman
had awed the lesser: and that iJohn x. 20) some said,
he hath a devil, and is mad; whereas others holding
him for a prophet, said, these are not the words of one
that hath a devil. So in the old Testament he that came
to anoint Jehu, (2 Kings ix. 11) was a prophet; but
I^
LEVIATHAN
some of the company asked Jehu, what came that mcd-
man for? So that in sum, it is manifest, that whoso-
ever behaved himself in extraordinary manner, was
thought by the Jews to be possessed either with a good,
or evil spirit ; except by the Sadducees, who erred so far
on the other hand, as not to believe there were at all any
spirits, which is very near to direct atheism ; and thereby
perhaps the more provoked others to term such men
demoniacs, rather than madmen.
But why then does our Saviour proceed in the cur-
ing of them, as if they were possessed; and not as if they
were mad? To which I can give no other kind 6f
answer, but that which is given to those that urge the
Scripture in like manner against the opinion of the
motion of the earth. The Scripture was written to
shew unto men the kingdom of God, and to prepare
their minds to become his obedient subjects ; leaving
the world, and the philosophy thereof, to the disputa-
tion of men, for the exercising of their natural reason.
Whether the earth's, or sun's motion make the day, and
night; or whether the exorbitant actions of men, pro-
ceed from passion, or from the devil, so we worship
him not, it is all one, as to our obedience, and subjection
to God Almighty ; which is the thing for which the
Scripture was written. As for that our Saviour speak-
eth to the disease, as to a person ; it is the usual phrase
of ail that cure by words only, as Christ did, and en-
chanters pretend to do, whether they speak to a devil
or not. For is not Christ also said {Matt. viii. 26) to
have rebuked the winds? Is not he said also {Luke
iv. 39) to rebuke a fever? Yet this does not argue that a
fever is a devil. And whereas many of the devils are
said to confess Christ; it is not necessary to interpret
those places otherwise, than that those madmen confessed
INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES
igi
him. And whereas our Saviour {Matt. xii. 43) speak-
eth of an unclean spirit, that having gone out of a man,
wandereth through dry places, seeking rest, and findmg
none, and returning into the same man, with seven oth-
er spirits worse than himself ; it is manifestly a parable,
alluding to a man, that after a little endeavour to quit
his lusts, is vanquished by the strength of them; and
becomes seven times worse than he was. So that I see
nothing at all in the Scripture, that requireth a belief,
that demoniacs were any other thing but madmen.
There is yet another fault in the discourses of some
men ; which may also be numbered amongst the sorts of
madness; namely, that abuse of words, whereof I have
spoken before in the fifth chapter, bv the name of absurd-
ity. And that is, when men speak such words, as put
together, have in them no signification at all; but are
fallen upon by some, through misunderstanding of the
words they have received, and repeat by rote ; by others
from intention to deceive by obscurity. And this is in-
cident to none but those, that converse in nnestJOns o^
matters incomprehensible, as the School-m en; or in
questions of abstruse philosophy. The common sort of
men seldom speak insignificantly, and are therefore, by
those other egregious persons counted idiots. But to be
assured their words are without any thing correspond-
ent to them in the mind, there would need some exam-
ples; which if any man require, let him take a School-
matt in his hands and see if he can translate any one
chapter concerning any difficult point, as the Trinity;
the Deity; the nature of Christ; transubstantiation ;
free-will, &c. into any of the modern tongues, so as to
make the same intelligible; or into any tolerable Latin,
such as they were acquainted withal, that lived when
the Latin tongue was vulgar. What is the meaning of
192
LEVIATHAN
these words, The iirst cause does not necessarily inHow
anything into the second, by force of the essential sub-
ordination of the second causes, by which it may help
it to work? They are the translation of the title of the
sixth chapter of Suarez' first book, Of the concourse,
motion, and help of God. When men write' whole vol-
umes of such stuff, are they not mad, or intend to make
others so? And particularly, in the question of transub-
stantiation ; where after certain words spoken ; they that
say, the whiten^w, roundn^^^, mdigmtude, quali/y, cor-
ruptibili/y, all which are incorporeal, &c. go out of the
wafer, into the body of our blessed Saviour, do they
not make those nesses, tudes, and ties, to be so many
spirits possessing his body? For by spirits, they mean
always things, that being incorporeal, are nevertheless
moveable from one place to another. So that this kind
of absurdity, may rightly be numbered amongst the
many sorts of madness ; and all the time that guided by
clear thoughts of their worldly lust, they forbear dis-
puting, or writing thus, but lucid intervals. And thus
much of the virtues and defects intellectual.
N
}
^1
r^
QHAPTERIX.
OF THE SEVERAL SUBJECTS OF KNOWLEDGE.
There are of knowledge two kinds ; whereof one is (
I
knoudedge of fact: the other knowledge of the^^'^^
quence of one omrmation to mother. The forme s
nothing else, but sense and memory and is absolute
knowledge; as when we see a fact domg or remember
it done : and this is the knowledge required m a witness.
The latter is called science; and is conditional; as when
we know, that, ./ the figure shown be a circle, then any
straight line through the center shall divide U xnto two
equal parts. And this is the knowledge required m a
philosopher; that is to say, of him that pretends to reas-
oning. . „,,-.»
nru. .^ pcf^r nf knoTi'ledcre of fact is called hi story:^
WhTreof there be two sorts: one called naturailitstory ;
which is the history of such facts, or effects of nature,
as have no dependence on man's will; such as are the
histories of mmls, plants, animals, regions, and the
like. The other, is civil history; which is the history
of the voluntary actions of men in commonwealths.
The registers of science, are such books as contain
the demonstrations of consequences of one affirmation,
to another ; and are commonly called books of philos-
ophy; whereof the sorts are many, according to the
diversity of the matter; and may be divided in such
manner as I have divided them in the following table.^
•Compare on tSe general subject 0^'™<>?'>':;'8e »»? .*''*3=?
Chapters V and VII of Leviathan. Also PMosophtcalR^*-
ments. (M. II, iu). "Wisdom properly so called, .s nrthmg
else but this: the perfect knowledge of the truth mall matUn
whatsoever. Which being derived from the registers and records
of things; and that as it were through the conduit of certain
m
w
LEVIATHAN
Xoonqnencec from the accideott conmon to aB
bodies natqral; which are gMoniity, and tmoUon,
SUBJECTS OF KNOWLEDGE
Conieqaences from quantity, and motion i^<{^'fr^"^(f' {
which bcine the principles or first foundation of philosophy. <
is called Philosophia Prima, > (
(Consequen- ("By Fiifure
ces from
quantity,'
and motion
determined. (^By Number.
SCIENCE,
lat li
knowleoiTc
o f conse-
quences;
which is
called also
PHIL080-
»HY.
Conseqaences
from the ac-
cidents of
bodies natur-
al: which is
called
AL P
PHY,
I
PHYSICS
or conse
?|uences'
rom qua-
Mies,
Consequences from the qualities
of bodies transient, such as some
times appear, some times vaoish,
Meteorology
Xonsequencesfrom the
qualities of the stars.
Conse-
fiueoces
rom the
qualities
of bodies
Pertna*
nent.
Conseguences of the
qualities from liquid
bodies, that fill the
space between the
stars; such as are the
air, or substances
ethereal.
Consequences from
the qualities of io-^
dies terresHal.
Consequences
from the ac-
cidents of
Politic bodies;
which is cal-
led POLITICS,
and CIVIL
philoSOPBT.
ri. Of consequences from iixt institution of Com-
monwealths, to the rights and duties of the
pody Poltttc ox sovereign.
Of consequences from the same, to the duty
and right of the sukfotis. ^
Conse-
quences
from mo-
tion and
quantity
^determined
Mathematics,
I9S
Philoso-
phia
Prima.
Geometry.
^Arithmetic
Consequen-
ces from the
motion, and
quantity of
bodies in
, special.
Consequences
from the
motion and.
quantity of
tne greater-
parts of the
world, as
the earth and
stars.
i Astronomy.
GHX»»HY.
I
Consequences (
ial kinds, and j Doctrine
figures of I weight,
body. L
f Science
of FnoinEbrs.
Architecture
i. Navigation.
Meteorology
Consequences from the light of the stars. Out of this, anuse it is buying of protection, and acknowledgmg of
power. To give little gifts, is to dishonour; because
it is but alms, and signifies an opinion of the need of
small helps. , i ♦„
To be sedulous in promoting another s good ; also to
i:atter, is to honour; as a sign we seek his protection or
aid. To neglect, is to dishonour.
lire to come, must conceive withal some power in himself by which
li: same m'ky be attained. . And because the pass.ons whereof I
am to speak next, consist m conception of the *""«' before I
tnv in conceotion of power past, and the act to come , oejore '
go^ny funhe "mustin the next place sP"k somewhat con
ferning this power. By this power I mean the same with the fac-
uhies of the*^ body, n^^tritive. generative moiwe and °f 'he
mind knowledge; and besides these, such /"''.''•"^ P?*".?* „^
hem'is acquired,\L-. riches, place o^authority /r..«rf.fc.? or
favour, and good fortune; whtch last is really nothmg else but
he favour of God Almighty. The i""'--?"" °« '\\\' "l.X"
potencies, infirmities, or defects of the ?a'd P°""' .^n'^rfth the
^nd because the power of one man resisteth and hmdereth the
effects of the power of another, pow^r simply '* "° ";°!*„°";
the excess of the power of one above that of another for,*^?^^^
powers opposed, destroy one another ; and such their oppositioB
is called contention."
300
LEVIATHAN
To give way, or place to another, in any commodity,
is to honour; being a confession of greater power. To
arrogate, is to dishonour.
I To show any sign of love, or fear of another, is to
I honour; for both to love, and to fear, is to value. To
contemn, or less to love or fear, than he expects, is to
dishonour; for it is undervaluing.
To praise, magnify, or call happy, is to honour ; be-
cause nothing but goodness, power, and felicity is valued.
To revile, mock, or pity, is to dishonour.
To speak to another with consideration, to appear be-
fore him with decency, and humility, is to honour him;
as signs of fear to oifend. To speak to him rashly, to
do any thing before him obscenely, slovenly, impudently,
is to dishonour.
To believe, to trust, to rely on another, is to honour
him ; sign of opinion of his virtue and power. To dis-
trust, or not believe, is to dishonour.
To hearken to a man's counsel, or discourse of what
kind soever is to honour; as a sign we think him wise,
or eloquent, or witty. To sleep, or go forth, or talk
the while, is to dishonour.
To do those things to another, which he takes for
signs of honour, or which the law or custom makes so-
is to honour ; because in approving the honour done by
others, he acknowledgeth the power which others ac-
knowledge. To refuse to do them, is to dishonour.
To agree with in opinion, is to honour; as being a
sign of approving his judgment, and wisdom. Tc dis-
sent, is dishonour, and an upbraiding of error; and,
if the dissent be in many things, of folly.
To imitate, is to honour ; for it is vehemently to ap-
prove. To imitate one's enemy, is to dishonour. ^
To honour those another honours, is to honour him ;
1
i
OF POWER. WORTH. DIGNITY. ETC.
201
as a sign of approbation of his judgment. To honour
his enemies, is to dishonour him.
To employ in counsel, or in actions of difficulty, is
to honour; as a sign of opinion of his wisdom, or other
power. To deny employment in the same cases, to those
that seek it, is to dishonour.
All these ways of honouring, are natural; and as
well within, as without commonwealths. But in com-
monwealths, where he, or they that have the supreme
authority, can make whatsoever they please, to stand for
signs of honour, there be other honours.
A sovereign doth honour a subject, with whatso-
ever title, or office, or employment, or action, that he
himself will have taken for a sign of his will to honour
him. . ,
The king of Persia, honoured Mordecai, when he
appointed he should be conducted through the streets
in the king's garment, upon one of the king's horses,
with a crown on his head, and a prince before him, pro-
claiming, thus shall it be done to him that the king will
honour. And yet another king of Persia, or the same
another time, to one that demanded for some great serv-
ice, to wear one of the king's robes, gave him leave so
to do ; but with this addition, that he should wear it as
the king's fool ; and then it was" dishonour. So that of
c ivil honou r, the fountain is in the person of the com-
monwealth, and de pendeth on t he will of the sovereign ;
and is therefore temporary, and called civil honour;
such as magistracy, offices, titles; and in some places
coats and scutcheons painted : and men honour such
as have them, as having so many signs of favour in the
commonwealth; which favour is power.
Honourable is whatsoever possession, action, or qual-
ity, is an argument and sign of power.
I
:|iil
202
LEVIATHAN
OF POWER, WORTH, DIGNITY, ETC.
»S
f^^ifCO ^ And therefore to be honoured, loved, or feared of
^'/^j^many, is honourable; as arguments of power. To be
^ honoured of few or none, dishonourable.
Dominion, and victory is honourable; because ac-
quired by power ; and servitude, for need, or fear, is dis-
honourable.
(Good fortune, if lasting, honourable ; as a sign of the
favour of God. Ill fortune, and losses, dishonourable.
Riches ^ are honourable ; for thev i^rr pr^^^^«-- Poverty,
dishonourable. Magnanimity, liberalty, hope, courage,
confidence, are honourable; for they proceed from the
conscience of power. Pusillanimity, parsimony, fear,
diffidence, are dishonourable.
Timely resolution, or determination of what a man
is to do, is honourable ; as being the contempt of small
difficulties, and dangers. And irresolution, dishonour-
able ; as a sign of too much valuing of little impediments,
and little advantages: for when a man has weighed
things as long as the time permits, and resolves not,
the difference of weight is but little ; and therefore if he
resolve not, he overvalues little things, which is pusillan-
imity.
All actions, and speeches, that proceed, or seem to
proceed, from much experience, science, discretion, or
wit, are honourable; for all these are powers. Actions,
or words that proceed from error, ignorance, or folly,
dishonourable.
Gravity, as far forth as it seems to proceed from a
mind employed on something else, is honourable; be-
cause employment is a sign of power. But if it seem to
proceed from a purpose to appear grave, it is dishon-
ourable. For the gravity of the former, is like the stead-
iness of a ship laden with merchandise ; but of the latter,
like the steadiness of a ship ballasted with sand, and oth-
er trash.
To be conspicuous, that is to say, to be known, for
wealth, office, great actions, or any eminent good, is
honourable ; as a sign of the power for which he is con-
spicuous. On the contrarv. obscuritv. is dishonourabl e.
To be descended from conspicuous parents, is hon-
ourable; because they the more easily attain the aids,
and friends of their ancestors. On the contrary, to^
Actions proceeding from equity, joined with loss,
are honourable; as signs of magnanimity: for magna-
nimity is a sign of power. On the contrary, craft, shift-
ing, neglect of equity, is dishonourable.
Covetousness of great riches, and ambition of great
honours, are honourable; as signs of power to obtain
them. Covetousness, and ambition, of little gains, or
preferments, is dishonourable.
Nor does it alter the case of honour, whether an ac-
tion, so it be great and difficult, and consequently a sign
of much power, be just or unjust: for honour consisteth
only in the opinion of powe r. Therefore the ancient
"heathen did not think they dishonoured, but greatly
honoured the Gods, when they introduced them in their
poems, committing rapes, thefts, and other great, but
unjust, or unclean acts : insomuch as nothing is so much
celebrated in Jupiter, as his adulteries; nor in Mercury,
as his frauds, and thefts : of whose praises, in a hymn of
Homer, the greatest is this, that being bom in the morn-
ing, he had invented music at noon, and before night,
stolen away the cattle of Apollo, from his herdsmen.
Also amongst men, till there were constituted g^eat
commonwealths, it was thought no dishonour to be a
pirate, or a highway thief; but rather a lawful trade,
not only amongst the Greeks, but also amongst all other
nations; as is manifest by the histories of ancient time.
904
LEVIATHAN
OF POWER, WORTH. DIGNITY, ETC.
20$
And at this day, in this part of the world, private duels
are, and always will be honourable, though unlawful,
till'such time as there shall be honour ordained for them
that refuse, and ignominy for them that make the chal-
lenge. For duels also are many times effects of courage ;
and the ground of courage is always strength or skill,
which are power; though for the most part they be
effects of rash speaking, and of the fear of dishonour,
in one, or both the combatants; who engaged by rash-
ness, are driven into the lists to avoid disgrace.
Scutcheons, and coats of arms hereditary, where they
have any eminent privileges, are honourable; otherwise
not : for their power consisteth either in such privileges,
or in riches, or some such thing as is equally honoured
in other men. This kind of honour, commonly called
gentry, hath been derived from the ancient Germans.
For there never was any such thing known, where the
German customs were unknown. Nor is it now any
where in use, where the Germans have not inhabited.
The ancient Greek commanders, when they went to war,
had their shields painted with such devices as they
pleased ; insomuch as an unpainted buckler was a sign of
poverty, and of a common soldier; but they transmitted
not the inheritance of them. The Romans transmitted
the marks of their families: but they were the images,
not the devices of their ancestors. Amongst the people
of Asia, Africa, and America, there is not, nor was ever,
any such thing. The Germans only had that custom;
from whom it has been derived into England, France,
Spain, and Italy, when in great numbers they either
aided the Romans, or made their own conquests in these
western parts of the world.
For Germany, being anciently, as all other countries,
in their beginning:s, divided amongst an infinite num-
ber of little lords, or masters of families, that contin-
ually had wars one with another ; those masters, or lords,
principally to the end they might, when they were cov-
ered with arms, be known by their followers ; and part^
ly for ornament, both painted their armour, or their
scutcheon, or coat, with the picture of some beast, or
other thing ; and also put some eminent and visible mark
upon the crest of their helmets. And this ornament both
of the arms, and crest, descended by inheritance to their
children; to the eldest pure, and to the rest with some!
note of diversity, such as the old master, that is to say
in Dutch, the Here-alt thought fit. But when many such
families, joined together, made a greater monarchy, this
duty of the Herealt, to distinguish scutcheons, was made
a private office apart. And the issue of these lords, is the
great and ancient gentry; which for the most part bear
living creatures, noted for courage, and rapine; or cas-
tles, battlements, belts, weapons, bars, palisadoes, and
other notes of war; nothing being then in honour, but
virtue military. Afterwards, not only kings, but pop-
ular commonwealths, gave divers manners of scutcheons,
to such as went forth to the war, or returned from it,
for encouragement, or recompense to their service. All
which, by an observing reader, may be found in such'
ancient histories, Greek and Latin, as make mention of
the German nation and manners, in their times.
Titles of honour, such as are duke, count, marquis,
and baron, are honourable; as signifying the value set
upon them by the sovereign power of the commonwealth :
which titles, were in old time titles of office, and com-
mand, derived some from the Romans, some from the
Germans and French : dukes, in Latin duces, being gen-
erals in war: counts, comites, such as bear the general
company out of friendship, and were left to govern and
-^1
906
LEVIATHAN
OF POWER, WORTH, DIGNITY. ETC.
«7
defend places conquered, and pacified: marquises, mar-
chiones, were counts that governed the marches, or
bounds of the empire. Which titles of duke, count, and
marquis, came into the empire, about the time of Con-
stantine the Great, from the customs of the German mil-
itia. But baron, seems to have been a title of the Gauls,
and signifies a great man; such as were the king's, or
prince's men, whom they employed in war about their
persons; and seems to be derived from vir, to her, and
bar, that signified the same in the language of the Gauls,
that vir in Latin; and thence to hero, and haro: so that
such men were called herones, and after barones; and,
in Spanish, varones. But he that would know more
particularly the original of titles of honour, may find
it, as I have done this, in Mr. Selden's most excel-
lent treatise of that subject. In process of time these
offices of honour, by occasion of trouble, and for reasons
of good and peaceable government, were turned into
mere titles; serving for the most part, to distinguish
the precedence, place, and order of subjects in the com-
monwealth: and men were made dukes, counts, mar-
quises, and barons of places, wherein they had neither
possession, nor command: and other titles also, were
devised to the same end.
Worthiness, is a thing different from the worth,
or value of a man ; and also from his merit, or desert, and
consisteth in a particular power, or ability for that,
whereof he is said to be worthy: which particular abil-
ity, is usually named fitness, or aptitude.
For he is worthiest to be a commander, to be a judge,
or to have any other charge, that is best fitted, with the .
qualities required to the well discharging of it; and
worthiest of riches, that has the qualities most requisite
for the well using of them : any of which qualities being
absent, one mav nevertheless be a worthy man, and valu-
able for something else. Again, a man may be worthy
of riches, office, and employment, that nevertheless, can
plead no right to have it before another; and therefore
cannot be said to merit or deserve it. For merit pre-
supposeth a right, and that the thing deserved is due
by promise: of which I shall say more hereafter, when
I shall speak of contracts.
Hi
tJ
CHAPTER XL
OF THE DIFFERENCE OF MANNERS.
By manners, I mean not here, decency of behaviour;
as how one should salute another, or how a man should
wash his mouth or pick his teeth before company, and
such other points of the small morals; but those qualities
of mankind, that concern their livinof togetherJ iL^gace,
and uni ty. To which end we are to consider, that theTe-
Hcity of this life, consisteth not in the repose of a mind
satisfied. For there is no such finis ultimus, utmost aim,
nor summum bonum, greatest good, as is spoken of in
the books of the old moral philosophers. Nor can a
man any more live, whose desires are at an end, than he,
whose senses and imaginations are at a stand. Felicity
is a continual progress of the desire, from one object
to another ; the attaining of the former, being still but the
way to the latter. The cause whereof is, that the object
of man's desire, is not to enjoy once only, and for one in-
stant of time ; but to assure forever, the way of his fu-
ture desire. And therefore the voluntary actions, and
inclinations of all men, tend, not only to the procuring,
but also to the assuring of a contented life; and differ
only in the way : which ariseth partly from the diversity
of passions, in divers men ; and partly from the differ-
ence of the knowledge, or opinion each one has of the
causes, which produce the effect desired.
(So that in the first place, j put for a general inclin a-
tion of all mankind, a perp etual and restless desire jo f
power after power, that cea'seth only in death. And the
cause of this, is not always that a man hopes for a more
intensive delight, than he has already attained to ; or that
he cannot be content with a moderate power : but because
O? MANNERS
WL
he cannot assure the power and means to live well, which
he hath present, without the acquisition of more. And
from hence it is, that kings, whose power is greatest,
turn their endeavours to the assuring it at home by laws,
or abroad by wars : and when that is done, there succeed-
eth a new desire ; in some, of fame from new conquest ;
in others, of ease and sensual pleasure; in others, of
admiration, or being flattered for excellence in some art,
or other ability of the mind.*
Competition of riches, honour, command, or other
power, inclineth to contention, enmity, and war : because
the way of one competitor, to the attaining of his desire,
is to kill, subdue, supplant, or repel the other. Particu-
larly, competition of praise, inclineth to a reverence of
antiquity. For men contend with the living, not with
the dead; to these ascribing more than due, that they
may obscure the glory of the other.
Desire of ease , and sensual delight, disposeth meO-iQ
obe y a common pow er: because by such desires, a man
HotlT abandon the ^otection that might be hoped for
from his own industry, and labour. Fear of death,
and wounds, disposeth to the same; and for the same
^Compare Human Nature, (M. IV, 33). Seeing all de-
light is appetite, and presupposeth a further end, there can be
no contentment but in proceeding: and therefore we are not to
marvel, when wc see. that as men attain to more riches, honour,
or other power; so their appetite continually groweth more and
more; and when they are come to the utmost degree of some
kind of power, they pursue some other, as long as in any kind
they think themselves behind any other : of those therefore that
have attained to the highest degree of honour and riches, some
have affected mastery in some art ; as Nero in music and poetry,
Commodus in the art of a gladiator ; and such as affect not some
such thing, must find diversion and recreation of their thoughts
in the contention either of play or business: and men justly com-
plain of a great grief, that they know not what to do. Feltctty,
therefore, by which we mean continual^ delight, consisteth not in
having prospered, but in prospering."
aio
LEVIATHAN
OF MANNERS
lit
reason. On the contrary, needy men, and hardy, not
contented with their present condition; as also, all men
that are ambitious of military command, are inclined to
continue the causes of war; and to stir up trouble and
sedition: for t here is no honour military but by war ;
nor any such hope to mend an ill game, as by causing a
new shuffle.
Desire of knowledg e, and arts of peace, inclineth men
to obey a common power: for such desire, containeth
a desire of leisure; and consequently protection irom
some other power than their own.
Desire of praise , disposeth to laudable actions, such
as please them whose judgment they value; for of those
men whom we contemn, we contemn also the praises.
Desire of fame after death does the same. And though
after death, there be no sense of the praise given us
on earth, as being joys, that are either swallowed up in
the unspeakable joys of Heaven, or extinguished in the
extreme torments of hell : yet is not such fame vain ; be-
cause men have a present delight therein, from the fore-
sight of it, and of the benefit that may redound thereby
to their posterity: which though they now see not, yet
they imagine ; and anything that is pleasure to the sense,
the same also is pleasure in the imagination.
To have received from one, to whom we think our-
selves equal, greater benefits than there is hope to re-
quite, disposeth to counterfeit love; but really secret
hatred; and puts a man into the estate of a desperate
debtor, that in declining the sight of his creditor, tacitly
wishes him there, where he might never see him more.
For benefits oblige, and obligation is thraldom; and un-
requitable obligation perpetual thraldom; which is
to one's equal, hateful. But to have received benefits
from one, whom we acknowledge for superior, inclines
1' -I
to love; because the obligation is no new depression:
and cheerful acceptation, which men call gratitude, is
such an honour done to the obliger, as is taken generally
for retribution. Also to receive benefits, though from an
equal, or inferior, as long as there is hope of requital,
disposeth to love : for in the intention of the receiver, the
obligation is of aid and service mutual; from whence
proceedeth an emulation of who shall exceed in benefit-
ing; the most noble and profitable contention possible;
wherein the victor is pleased with his victory, and the
other revenged by confessing it.
To have done more hurt to a man, than he can, or is
willing to expiate, inclineth the doer to hate the sufferer.
For he must expect revenge, or forgiveness ; both which
are hateful.
Fear of oppression, disposeth a man to anticipate, or
to seek aid by society : for there is no other way by which
a man can secure his life and liberty.
Men that distrust their own subtlety, are, in tumult
and sedition, better disposed for victory, than they th^t
suppose themselves wise, or crafty. For these love to
consult, the other, fearing to be circumvented, to strike
first. And in sedition, men being always in the pre-
cincts of battle, to hold together, and use all advantages
of force, is a better strategem, than any that can proceed
from subtlety of wit.
Vain-glorious men, such as without being conscious
to themselves of great sufficiency, delight in supposing
themselves gallant men, are inclined only to ostentation ;
but not to attempt: because when danger or difficulty
appears, they look for nothing but to have their insuf-
ficiency discovered.
Vain-glorious men, such as estimate their sufficiency
by the flattery of other men, or the fortune of some pre-
I
212
LEVIATHAN
OF MANNERS
213
cedent action, without assured ground of hope from the
true knowledg'e of themselves, are incHned to rash en-
gaging; and in the approach of danger, or difficulty, to
retire if they can: because not seeing the way of safety,
they will rather hazard their honour, which may be salved
with an excuse; than their lives, for which no salve is
sufficient.
Men that have a strong opinion of their own wisdom
in matter of government, are disposed to ambition. Be-
cause without public employment in council or magis-
tracy, the honour of their wisdom is lost. And therefore
eloquent speakers are inclined to ambition ; for eloquence
seemeth wisdom, both to* themselves and others.
Pusillanimity disposeth men to irresolution, and con-
sequently to lose the occasions, and fittest opportunities
of action. For after men have been in deliberation till the
time of action approach ; if it be not then manifest what
is best to be done^ it is a sign, the difference of motives,
the one way and the other, are not great : therefore not to
resolve then, is to lose the occasion by weighing of trifles ;
which is pusillanimity.
Frugality, though in poor men a virtue, maketh a
man unapt to achieve such actions, as require the
strength of many men at once: for it weakeneth their
endeavour, which is to be nourished and kept in vigor
by reward.
Eloquence, with flattery, disposeth men to confide in
them that have it; because the former is seeming wis-
dom, the latter seeming kindness. Add to them mil-
itary reputation, and it disposeth men to adhere, and
subject themselves to those men that have them. The
two former having given them caution against danger
from him; the latter gives them caution against danger
from others.
'I *
Want of science, that is, ignorance of causes, dispos-
eth, or rather constraineth a man to rely on the advice,
and authority of others. For all men whom the truth
concerns, if they lely not on their own, must rely on the
opinion of some other^ whom they think w^iser than
themselves, and see not why he should deceive them.
Ignorance of the signification of words, which is
want of understanding, disposeth men to take on trust,
not only the truth they know not ; but also the errors ;
and which is more, the nonsense of them they trust: for
neither error nor nonsense, can without a perfect un-
derstanding of words, be detected.
From the same it proceedeth, that men give different
names, to one and the same thing, from the difference of
their own passions : as they that approve a private opin-
ion, call it opinion ; but they that mislike it, heresy : and
yet heresy signifies no more than private opinion ; but has
only a greater tincture of choler.
From the same also it proceedeth, that men cannot
distinguish, without study and great understanding, be-
tween one action of many men, and many actions of one
multitude ; as for example, between one action of all the
senators of Rome in killing Cataline, and the many ac-
tions of a number of senators in killing Caesar ; and there-
fore are disposed to take for the action of the people, that
which is a multitude of actions done by a multitude of
men, led perhaps by the persuasion of one.
Ignorance of the causes, and original constitution of
righl, equity, law, and justice, disposeth a man to make
custom and example the rule of his actions ; in such man-
ner, as to think that unjust which it hath been the custom
to punish ; and that just, of the impunity and approbation
whereof they can produce an example, or, as the lawyers
which only use this false measure of justice barbarous-
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LEVIATHAN
OF MANNERS
cedent action, without assured ground of hope from the
true knowledg-e of themselves, are inclined to rash en-
gaging; and in the approach of danger, or difficulty, to
retire if they can : because not seeing the way of safety,
they will rather hazard their honour, which may be salved
with an excuse; than their lives, for which no salve is
sufficient.
Men that have a strong opinion of their own wisdom
in matter of government, are disposed to ambition. Be-
cause without public employment in council or magis-
tracy, the honour of their wisdom is lost. And therefore
eloquent speakers are inclined to ambition ; for eloquence
seemeth wisdom, both to* themselves and others.
Pusillanimity disposeth men to irresolution, and con-
sequently to lose the occasions, and fittest opportunities
of action. For after men have been in deliberation till the
time of action approach ; if it be not then manifest what
is best to be done, it is a sign, the difference of motives,
the one way and the other, are not great : therefore not to
resolve then, is to lose the occasion by weighing of trifles ;
which is pusillanimity.
Frugality, though in poor men a virtue, maketh a
man unapt to achieve such actions, as require the
strength of many men at once: for it weakeneth their
endeavour, which is to be nourished and kept in vigor
by reward.
Eloquence, with flattery, disposeth men to confide in
them that have it; because the former is seeming wis-
dom, the latter seeming kindness. Add to them mil-
itary reputation, and it disposeth men to adhere, and
subject themselves to those men that have them. The
two former having given them caution against danger
from him; the latter gives them caution against danger
from others.
213
Want of science, that is, ignorance of causes, dispos-
eth, or rather constraineth a man to rely on the advice,
and authority of others. For all men whom the truth
concerns, if they lely not on their own, must rely on the
opinion of some other^ whom they think wiser than
themselves, and see not why he should deceive them.
Ignorance of the signification of words, which is
want of understanding, disposeth men to take on trust,
not only the truth they know not ; but also the errors ;
and which is more, the nonsense of them they trust: for
neither error nor nonsense, can without a perfect un-
derstanding of words, be detected.
From the same it proceedeth, that men give different
names, to one and the same thing, from the difference of
their own passions : as they that approve a private opin-
ion, call it opinion; but they that mislike it, heresy: and
yet heresy signifies no more than private opinion ; but has
only a greater tincture of choler.
From the same also it proceedeth, that men cannot
distinguish, without study and great understanding, be-
tween one action of many men, and many actions of one
multitude; as for example, between one action of all the
senators of Rome in killing Cataline, and the many ac-
tions of a number of senators in killing Caesar ; and there-
fore are disposed to take for the action of the people, that
which is a multitude of actions done by a multitude of
men, led perhaps by the persuasion of one.
Ignorance of the causes, and original constitution of
righl, equity, law, and justice, disposeth a man to make
custom and example the rule of his actions ; in such man-
ner, as to think that unjust which it hath been the custom
to punish ; and that just, of the impunity and approbation
whereof they can produce an example, or, as the lawyers
which only use this false measure of justice barbarous-
I'
214
LEVIATHAN
ly call it, a precedent ; like little children, that have no
other rule of good and evil manners, but the correction
they receive from their parents and masters; save that
children are constant to their rule, whereas, men are not
so; because grown old, and stubborn, they appeal from
custom to reason, and from reason to custom, as it serves
their turn; receding from custom when their interest
requires it, and setting themselves against reason, as
oft as reason is against them: which is the cause,
that the doctrine of right and wrong, is perpet-
ually disputed, both by the pen and the sword:
whereas the doctrine of lines, and figures, is not so; be-
cause men care not, in that subject, what be truth, as a
thing that crosses no man's ambition, profit, or lust.
For I doubt not, but if it had been a thing contrary to
any man's right of dominion, or to the interest of men
that have dominion, that the three angles of a triangle,
should be equal to two angles of a square; that doctrine
should have been, *f not disputed, yet by the burning of
all books of geometry, suppressed, as far as he whom it
concerned was able.
Ignorance of remote causes, disposeth men to attrib-
ute all events, to the causes immediate, and instrumen-
tal : for these are all the causes they perceive. And
hence it comes to pass, that in all places, men that are
grieved with payments to the public, discharge their
anger upon the publicans, that is to say, farmers, col-
lectors, and other officers of the public revenue ; and ad-
here to such as find fault with the public government;
and thereby, when they have engaged themselves beyond
hope of justification, fall also upon the supreme author-
ity, for fear of punishment, or shame of receiving par-
don.
Ignorance of natural causes, disposeth a man to cred-
OF MANNERS
215.
ulity, so as to believe many times impossibilities : for
such know nothing to the contrary, but that they may be
true; being unable to detect the impossibility.^ And
credulity, because men like to be hearkened unto in com-
pany, disposeth them to lying: so that ignorance itself
without malice, is able to make a man both to believe
lies, and tell them; and sometimes also to invent them.
Anxiety for the future time, disposeth men to in-
quire into the causes of things : because the knowledge
of them, maketh men the better able to order the present
to their best advantage.
Curiosity, or love of the knowledge of causes, draws
a man from the consideration of the effect, to seek the
cause ; and again, the cause of that cause ; till of necessi-
ty he must come to this thought at last, that there is
some cause, whereof there is no former cause, but is
eternal; which is it men call God. So that it is im-
possible to make any profound inquiry into natural
causes, without being inclined thereby to believe there
is one God eternal; though they cannot have any idea
of him in their mind, answerable to his nature. For as a
man that is born blind, hearing men talk of warming them-
selves by the fire, and being brought to warm himself
by the same, may easily conceive, and assure himself,
there is somewhat there, which men call fire, and is the
cause of the heat he feels ; but cannot imagine what it is
like ; nor have an idea of it in his mind, such as they have
that see it: so also by the visible things in this world,
and their admirable order, a man may conceive there is
a cause of them, which men call God ; and yet not have
an idea, or image of him in his mind.
And they that make little, or no inquiry into the nat-
ural causes of things, yet from the fear that proceeds
from the ignorance itself, of what it is that hath the
2l6
LEVIATHAN
power to do them much good or harm, are inclined to
suppose, and feign unto themselves, several kinds of
powers invisible; and to stand in awe of their own imag-
inations ; and in time of distress to invoke them ; as also
in the time of an expected good success, to give them
thanks; making the creatures of their own fancy, their
gods. By which means it hath come to pass, that from the
innumerable variety of fancy, men have created in the
world innumerable sorts of gods. And this fear of
things invisible, is the natural seed of that, which every
one in himself calleth religion ; and in them that worship,
or fear that power otherwise than they do, superstition.
And this seed of religion, having been observed by
many ; some of those that have observed it, have been in-
clined thereby to nourish, dress, and form it into laws ;
and to add to it of their own invention, any opinion of
the causes of future events, by which they thought they
should be best able to govern others, and make imto
themselves the greatest use of their powers.
CHAPTER XII.
OF RELIGION.
Seeing there are no signs, nor fruit of religion,
but in man only ; there is no cause to doubt, but that the
seed of religion, is also only in man; and consisteth in
some peculiar quality, or at least in some eminent degree
thereof, not to be found in any other living creatures.
And first, it is peculiar to the nature of man, to be
inquisitive into the causes of the events they see, some
more, some less ; but all men so much, as to be curious in
the search of the causes of their own good and evil
fortune.
Secondly, upon the sight of anything that hath a be-
ginning, to think also it had a cause, which determined
the same to begin, then when it did, rather than sooner
or later.
Thirdly, whereas there is no other felicity of beasts,
but the enjoying of their quotidian food, ease, and lusts ;
as having little or no foresight of the time to come, for
want of observation, and memory of the order, conse-
quence, and dependence of the things they see ; man ob-
serveth how one event hath been produced by another;
and remembereth in them antecedence and consequence;
and when he cannot assure himself of the true causes
of things, (for the causes of good and evil fortune
for the most part are invisible,) he supposes causes of
them, either such as his own fancy suggesteth ; or trust-
eth the authority of other men, such as he thinks to be
his friends, and wiser than himself.
The two first, make anxiety. For being assured
that there be causes of all things that have arrived hither-
to, or shall arrive hereafter; it is impossible for a man,
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LEVIATHAN
who continually endeavoureth to secure himself against
the evil he fears, and procure the good he desireth, not
to be in a perpetual solicitude of the time to come; so that
every man, especially those that are over provident, are in
a state like to that of Prometheus. For as Prometheus,
which interpreted, is, the prudent man, was bound to the
hill Caucasus, a place of large prospect, where, an eagle
feeding on his liver, devoured in the day, as much as was
repaired in the night: so that man, which looks too far
before him, in the care of future time, hath his heart all
the day long, gnawed on by fear of death, poverty, or
other calamity ; and has no repose, nor pause of his anxi-
ety, but in sleep.
This perpet ual fear, always acrnmpanving- mankind!
in the ignorance of causes, as it were in the dark, must
somett^ing: Ana therefore when
there is nothing to be seen, there is nothing to accuse,
either of their good, or evil fortune, but some power,
or agent invisible: in which sense perhaps it was,
that some of the old poets said, that the gods were at
first created by human fear: which spoken of the gods,
that is to say, of the many gods of the Gentiles, is very
(true, gut the acknowledging of one God, eternal,
infinite, and omnipotent, may more easily be derived,
from the desire men have to know the causes of natural
bodies, and their several virtues, and operations; than
from the fear of what was to befall them in time to
come. For he that from any effect he seeth come to pass,
should reason to the next and immediate cause thereof,
and from thence to the cause of that cause, and plunge
himself profoundly in the pursuit of causes ; shall at last
come to this, that there must be, as even the heathen phil-
osophers confessed, one first move r : that is, a first, and
an eternal cause of all things ; which is that which men
OF RELIGION
319
mean by the name of God : and all this without thought
of their fortune ; the solicitude whereof, both inclines to
fear, and hinders them from the search of the causes of
other things; and thereby gives occasion of feigning of
as many gods, as there be men that feign them.
And for the matter, or substance of the invisible
agents, so fancied; they could not by natural cogitation,
fall upon any other conceit, but that it was the same with
that of the soul of man ; and that the soul of man, was
of the same substance, with that which appeareth in
a dream, to one that sleepeth; or in a looking-glass,
to one that is awake ; which, men not knowing that such
apparitions are nothing else but creatures of the fancy,
think to be real, and external substances; and therefore
call them ghosts; as the Latins called them imagines,
and umbrae; and thought them spirits, that is, thin aerial
bodies; and those invisible agents, which they feared,
to be like them ; save that they appear, and vanish when
they please. But the opinion that such spirits were in-
corporeal, or immaterial, could never enter into the mind
of any man by nature ; because, though men may put to-
gether words of contradictory signification, as spirit, and
incorporeal; yet they can never have the imagination of
any thing answering to them: and therefore, men that
by their own meditation, arrive to the acknowledgment
of one infinite, omnipotent, and eternal God, chose rather
to confess he is incomprehensible, and above their under-
standing, than to define his nature by spirit incorporeal,
and then confess their definition to be imintelligible : or if
they give him such a title, it is not dogmatically, with in-
tention to make the divine nature understood ; but piously,
to honour him with attributes, of significations, as remote
as they can from the grossness of bodies visible.
Then, for the way by which they think these invis-
220
LEVIATHAN
ible agents wrought their effects; that is to say, what
immediate causes they used, in bringing things to pass,
men that know not what it is that we call causing, that
is, almost all men, have no other rule to guess by, but by
observing, and remembering what they have seen to pre-
cede the like effect at some other time, or times before,
without seeing between the antecedent and subsequent
event, any dependence or connexion at all : and therefore
from the like things past, they expect the like things to
come; and hope for good or evil luck, superstitiously,
from things that have no part at all in the causing of it :
as the Athenians did for their war at Lepanto, demand
another Phormio ; the Pompeian faction for their war in
Africa, another Scipio; and others have done in divers
other occasions since. In like manner they attribute their
fortune to a stander by, to a lucky or unlucky place, to
words spoken, especially if the name of God be amongst
them; as charming and conjuring, the liturgy of witches;
insomuch as to believe, they have power to turn a stone
into bread, bread into a man, or any thing into any thing.
Thirdly, for the worship which naturally men exhibit
to powers invisible, it can be no other, but such expres-
sions of their reverence, as they would use towards men;
gifts, petitions, thanks, submission of body, considerate
addresses, sober behaviour, premeditated words, swear-
ing, that is, assuring one another of *heir promises, by
invoking them. Beyond that reason suggesteth nothing;
but leaves them either to rest there ; or for further cere-
monies, to rely on those they believe to be wiser than
themselves.
Lastly, concerning how these invisible powers declare
to men the things which shall hereafter come to pass, es-
pecially concerning their good or evil fortune in general,
or good or ill success in any particular undertaking, men
OF RELIGION
2S]
are naturally at a stand ; save that using to conjecture of
the time to come, by the time past, they are very apt, not
only to take casual things, after one or two encounters, for
prognostics of the like encounter ever after, but also to
believe the like prognostics from other men, of whom
they have once conceived a good opinion.
And in these four thmgs, opinion of ghosts, ignorance
of second causes, devotion towards what men fear, and
taking of things casual for prognostics, consisteth the
^natural seed of religion; which by reason of the different
fancies, judgments, and passions of several men, hath
grown up into ceremonies so different, that those which
are used by one man, are for the most part ridiculous to
another.
For these seeds have received culture from two sorts
of men. One sort have been they, that have nourished,
and ordered them, according to their own invention. The
other have done it, by God's commandment, and direc-
tion; but both sorts have done it, with a purpose to
make those men that relied on them, the more apt to
obedience, laws, peace, charity, and civil society. So
that the religion of the former sort, is a part of hu-
man politics ; and teacheth part of the duty which earth-
ly kings require of their subjects. And the religion of
the latter sort is divine politics; and containeth precept?
to those that have yielded themselves subjects in the king-
dom of God. Of the former sort, were all the founders
of common-wealths, and the law-givers of the Gentiles:
of ihe latter sort, were Abraham, Moses, and our blessed
Saviour ; bv whom have been derived unto us the laws of
the kingdom of God.
And for that part of religion, which consisteth in
opinions concerning the nature of powers invisible, there
is almost nothing that has a name, that has not been
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LEVIATHAN
esteemed amongst the Gentiles, in one place or another,
a god, or devil ; or by their poets feigned to be inanimated,
inhabited, or possessed by some spirit or other.
The unformed matter of the world, was a god, by
the name of Chaos.
The heaven, the ocean, the planets, the fire, the earth,
the winds, were so many gods.
Men, women, a bird, a crocodile, a calf, a dog, a
snake, an onion, a leek, were deified. Besides that, they
filled almost all places, with spirits called demons: the
plains, with Pan, and Panises, or Satyrs; the woods,
with Fawns, and Nymphs; the sea, with Tritons, and
other Nymphs; every river, and fountain, with a ghost
oi his name, and with Nymphs; every house with its
Lares, or familiars; every man with his Genius; hell
with ghosts, and spiritual officers, as Charon, Cerberus,
and the Furies; and in the night time, all places with
larvae, lemures, ghosts of men deceased, and a whole
kingdom of fairies and bugbears. They have also as-
cribed divinity, and built temples to mere accidents, and
qualities ; such as are time, night, day, peace, concord,
love, contention, virtue, honour, health, rust, fever, and
the like ; which when they prayed for, or against, they
prayed to, as if there were ghosts of those names hanging
over their heads, and letting fall, or withholding that
good, or evil, for, or against which they prayed. They
invoked also their own wit, by the name of Muses ; their
own ignorance, by the name of Fortune ; their own lusts
by the name of Cupid; their own rage, by the name of
Furies ; their own privy members, by the name of Pria-
pus; and attributed their pollutions, to Tncubi, and Suc-
cubae: insomuch as there was nothing, which a poet could
introduce as a person in his poem, which they did not
make either a god, or a devil.
OF RELIGION
223
The same authors of the religion of the Gentiles, ob-
serving the second ground for religion, which is men's
ignorance of causes ; and thereby their aptness to attri-
bute their fortune to causes, on which there was no de-
pendence at all apparent, took occasion to obtrude on
their ignorance, instead of second causes, a kind of sec-
ond and ministerial gods ; ascribing the cause of fecundi-
ty, to Venus ; the cause of arts, to Apollo ; of subtlety and
craft, to Mercury; of tempests and storms, to Aeolus;
and of other effects, to other gods ; insomuch as there was
amongst the heathen almost as great variety of gods,
as of business.
And to the worship, which naturally men conceived
fit to be used towards their gods, namely, oblations,
prayers, thanks, and the rest formerly named ; the same
legislators of the Gentiles have added their images, both
in picture, and sculpture; that the more ignorant sort,
that is to say, the most part or generality of the people,
thinking the gods for whose representation they were
made, were really included, and as it were housed within
them, might so much the more stand in fear of them:
and endowed them with lands, and houses, and officers,
and revenues, set apart from all other human uses; that
is, consecrated, and made holy to those their idols; as
caverns, groves, woods, mountains, and whole islands;
and have attributed to them, not only the shapes, some
of men, some of beasts, some of monsters; but also the
faculties, and passions of men and beasts: as sense,
speech, sex, lust, generation, and this not only bv mixing
one with another, to propagate the kind of gods ; but also
by mixing with men, and women, to beget mongrel gods,
and but Inmates of heaven, as Bacchus, Hercules, and
others; besides anger, revenge, and other passions of
living creatures, and the actions proceeding from them,
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LEVIATHAN
as fraud, theft, adultery, sodomy, and any vice that may
be taken for an effect of power, or a cause of pleasure ;
and all such vices, as amongst men are taken to be
against law, rather than against honour.
Lastly, to the prognostics of time to come ; which are
naturally, but conjectures upon experience of time past;
and supernaturally, divine revelation; the same authors
of the religion of the Gentiles, partly upon pretended
experience, partly upon pretended revelation, have added
innumerable other superstitious ways of divination; and
made men believe they should find their fortunes, some-
times in the ambiguous or senseless answers of the priests
at Delphi, Delos, Ammon, and other famous oracles;
which answers, were made ambiguous by design, to own
the event both ways ; or absurd, by the intoxicating vapour
of the place, which is very frequent in sulphurous cav-
erns: sometimes in the leaves of the Sybils; of whose
prophecies, like those perhaps of Nostradamus (for the
fragments now extant seem to be the invention of later
times), there were some books in reputation in the time
of the Roman republic: sometimes in the insignificant
speeches of madmen, supposed to be possessed with a
divine spirit, which possession they called enthusiasm;
and these kinds of foretelling events, were accounted
theomancy, or prophecy: sometimes in the aspect of
the stars at their nativity; which was called horoscopy,
and esteemed a part of judiciary astrology: sometimes
in their own hopes and fears, called thumomancy, or
presage : sometimes in the prediction of witches, that pre-
tended conference with the dead; which is called necro-
mancy, conjuring, and witchcraft; and is but juggling and
confederate knavery: sometimes in the casual flight, or
feeding of birds ; called augury : sometimes in the entrails
of a sacrificed beast ; which was aruspicina: sometimes in
OF RELIGION
215
dreams : sometimes in croaking of ravens, or chattering of
birds : sometimes in the lineaments of the face ; which was
called metoposcopy; or by palmistry in the hues of the
hand; in casual words, called omina: sometimes m mon-
sters, or unusual accidents ; as eclipses, comets, rare me-
teors, earthquakes, inundations, uncouth births, and the
like which they call portenta, and ostenta, because they
thought them to portend, or foreshow some great calam-
ity to come; sometimes, m mere lottery, as cross and pile;
counting holes in a sieve ; dipping of verses in Homer,
and Virgil ; and innumerable other such vain conceits, bo
easy are men to be drawn to believe any thing, from
such men as have gotten credit with them ; and can with
gentleness, and dexterity, take hold of their fear, and
ignorance. * , . , t
And therefore the first founders, and legislators of
commonwealths among the Gentiles, whose ends were
only to keep the people in obedience, and peace, have
in all places taken care; first, to imprint in their mmds
a belief, that those precepts which they gave concerning
religion, might not be thought to proceed from their own
device, but from the dictates of some god, or other spirit ;
or else that thev themselves were of a higher nature than
mere mortals, that their laws might the more easily be
received: so Numa Pompilius pretended to receive the
ceremonies he instituted amongst the Romans, from the
nymph Egeria: and the first king and founder of the
kingdom of Peru, pretended himself and his wife to be
the children of the Sun ; and Mahomet, to set up his new
religion, pretended to have conferences with the Holy
Ghost, in form of a dove. Secondly, they have had a
care, to make it believed, that the same things were dis-
pleasing to the gods, which were forbidden by the laws.
Thirdly, to prescribe ceremonies, supplications, sacrifices,
226
LEVIATHAN
and festivals, by which they were to brieve, the anger
of the gods might be appeased ; and that ill success in
war, great contagions of sickness, earthquakes, and each
man's private misery, came from the anger of the gods,
and their anger from the neglect of their worship, or
the forgetting, or mistaking some point of the ceremon-
ies required. And though amongst the ancient Romans,
men were not forbidden to deny, that which in the poets
is written of the pains, and pleasures after this life:
which divers of great authority, and gravity in that
state have in their harangues openly derided; yet that
belief was always more cherished, than the contrary.
And by these, and such other institutions, they ob-
tained in order to their end, which was the peace of the
commonwealth, that the common people in their misfor-
tunes, laying the fault on neglect, or error in their
ceremonies, or on their own disobedience to the laws,
were the less apt to mutiny against their governors ; and
being entertained with the pomp, and pastime of festi-
vals, and public games, made in honour of the gods, need-
ed nothing else but bread to keep them from discontent,
murmuring, and commotion against the state. And
t herefore the R omans, that had conquered the greatest
part of the then known world, made no scruple of toler-
ating any religion whatsoever in the city of Rome itself ^
unless it had something in it, that could not consist with
their civil government ; nor do we read, that any religion
was there forbidden, but that of the Jews; who, being
tilt peculiar kingdom of God, thought it unlawful to ac-
knowledge subjection to any mortal king or state what-
soever. And thus vou see how the religion of the Ge n»
tiles was a part of their pol icy.
But where God himself, by supernatural revelation,
planted religion ; there he also made to himself a peculiar
OF RELIGION
227
kingdom : and gave laws, not only of behaviour towards
himself, but also towards one another ; and thereby Jn
the kingdom of God, the policy, and laws civil, are a part
of reHgion ; and therefore the distinction of temporal,
and spiritual domination, hath there no place. It is true,
that God is king of all the earth: yet may he be king of
a peculiar, and chosen nation. For there is no more in-
congruity therein, than that he that hath the general
command of the whole army, should have withal a pe-
culiar regiment, or company of his own. God is king of
all the earth by his power : but of his chosen people, he
is king by covenant. But to speak more largely of the
kingdom of God, both by nature, and covenant, I have
in the following discourse assigned another place (chap-
ter XXXV ).
From the propagation of religion, it is not hard to
understand the causes of the resolution of the same into
its first seeds, or principles ; which are only an opinion of
a deity, and powers invisible, and supernatural ; that can
never be so abolished out of human nature, but that new
religions may again be made to spring out of them, by the
culture of such men, as for such purpose are in repu-
tation.
For seeing all formed religion, is founded at first,
upon the faith which a multitude hath in some one per-
son, whom they believe not only to be a wise man, and to
labour to procure their happiness, but also to be a holy
man, to whom God himself vouchsafeth to declare his
will supematurally ; it followeth necessarily, when they
that have the government of religion, shall come to have
either the wisdom of those men, their sincerity, or their
love suspected ; or when they shall be unable to show any
probable token of divine revelation; that the religion
which they desire to uphold, must be suspected likewise ;
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LEVIATHAN
and, without the fear of the civil sword, contradicted
and rejected.
That which taketh away the reputation of wisdom,
m him that formeth a rehgion, or addeth to it when it is
already formed, is the enjoining of a belief of contradic-
tories : for both parts of a contradiction cannot possibly
be true: and therefore to enjoin the belief of them, is
an argument of ignorance; which detects the author in
that; and discredits him in all things else he shall pro-
pound as from revelation supernatural : which revelation
a man may indeed have of many things above, but of
nothing against natural reason.
That which taketh away the reputation of sincerity,
is the doing or saying of such things, as appear to be
signs, that what they require other men to believe, is
not believed by themselves ; all which doings, or sayings
are therefore called scandalous, because they be stumb-
ling blocks, that make men to fall in the way of religion ;
as injustice, cruelty, profaneness, avarice, and luxury.
For who can believe, that he that doth ordinarily such
actions as proceed from any of these roots, believeth there
is any such invisible power to be feared, as he affright-
eth other men withal, for lesser faults?
That which taketh away the reputation of love, is
the being detected of private ends: as when the belief
they require of others, conduceth or seemeth to conduce
to the acquiring of dominion, riches, dignity, or secure
pleasure, to themselves only, or specially. For that which
men reap benefit by to themselves, they are thought to
do for their own sakes, and not for love of others.
Lastly, the testimony that men can render of divine
calling, can be no other, than the operation of miracles;
or true prophecy, which also is a miracle; or extraor-
dinary felicity. And therefore, to those points of religion,
OF RELIGION
229
which have been received from them that did such mir-
acles ; those that are added by such, as approve not their
calling by some miracle, obtain no greater belief, than
What the custom and laws of the places, in which they
be educated, have wrought into them. For as in natural
things, men of judgment require natural signs, and ar-
guments; so in supernatural things, they require signs
supernatural, which are miracles, before they consent in-
wardly, and from their hearts.
All which causes of the weakening of men's faith;
do manifestly appear in the examples following. First,
we have the example of the children of Israel: who
when Moses, that had approved his calling to them b>
miracles, and by the happy conduct of them out of Egypt,
was absent but forty days, revolted from the worship of
the true God, recommended to them by him ; and setting
up {Exod. xxxiii. I. 2) a golden calf for their god, re-
lapsed into the idolatry of the Egyptians ; from whom
they had been so lately delivered. And again, afte'
Mouses, Aaron, Joshua, and that generation which had
seen the great works of God in Israel, (Judges n. ii)
were dead; another generation arose, and served BaaL
So that miracles failing, faith also failed.
Again, when the sons of Samuel, (i Sam, viii. 3) be-
ing constituted by their father judges in Bersabee, re-
ceived bribes, and judged unjustly, the people of Israel
refused any more to have God to be their king, in other
manner than he was king of other people; and there-
fore cried out to Samuel, to chose them a king after the
manner of the nations. So that justice failing, faith also
failed : insomuch, as they deposed their God, from reign-
ing over them.
And whereas in the planting of Christian religion,
the oracles ceased in all parts of the Roman empire, and
230
LEVIATHAN
the number of Christians increased wonderfully every
day, and in every place, by the preaching of the Apos-
tles, and Evangelists ; a great part of that success, may
reasonablv be attributed, to the contempt, into which the
priests of the Gentiles of that time, had brought them-
selves, by their uncleanness, avarice, and juggling be-
tween princes. Also the religion of the church of Rome,
was partly, for the same cause abolished in England,
and many other parts of Christendom ; insomuch, as the
failing of virtue in the pastors, maketh faith fail in the
people : and partly from bringing ofjhe philosop hy, and
doctrineof Aristotle into religion71b\- the Schoolme n;
fronT whence there arose so many contradict ions^^anj
absjirdities, as brought the clergy into a reputation both
of ignorance, and of fraudulent intention; and inclined
people to revolt from them, either against the will of their
own princes, as in France and Holland; or with their
will, as in England.
Lastly, amongst the points by the church of Rome
declared necessary for salvation, there be so many, mani-
festly to the advantage of the Pope, and of his spiritual
subjects, residing in the territories of other Christian
princes, that were it not for the mutual emulation of
those princes, they might without war, or trouble, ex-
clude all foreign authority, as easily as it has been ex-
cluded in England. For who is there that does not see, to
whose benefit it conduceth, to have it believed, that a king
hath not his authority from Christ, unless a bishop crown
him? That a king, if he be a priest, cannot marry? That
whether a prince be born in lawful marriage, or not, must
be judged by authority from Rome? That subjects may
be freed from their allegiance, if by the court of Rome,
the king be judged an heretic? That a king, as Chil-
peric of France, may be deposed by a pope, as Pope Zach-
LEVIATHAN
231
ary, for no cause; and his kingdom given to one of his
subjects? That the clergy and regulars, in what country
soever, shall be exempt from the jurisdiction of their king
in cases criminal ? Or who does not see, to whose profit
redound the fees of private masses, and vales of purga-
tory ; with other signs of private interest, enough to mor-
tify the most lively faith, if, as I said, the civil magis-
trate, and custom did not more sustain it, than any opin-
ion they have of the sanctity, wisdom, or probity of their
teachers ? So that I may attribute all the changes of re-
ligion in the world^to one and the same cause ; and that
is. unpleasing priests ; and those not only amongst Catho«
lies, but even in that church that hath presumed most of
reformation.
'li-
NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND
233
CHAPTER XIII.
OF THE NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND AS CONCER|i-
ING THEIR FELICITY, AND MISERY.
Nature hath made men so equal, in the faculties of
the body, and mind; as that though there be found one
man sometimes manifestly stronger in body, or of quick-
er mind than another ; yet when all is reckoned together,
the diflFere nce between man, and man, is not so consider-
able, as that one man can thereupon claim to himself any
. benefit, to which another may not pretend, as well as h e.
For as to the strength of body, the weakest has strengtfi
enough to kill the strongest, either by secret machination,
or by confederacy with others, that are in the same
danger with himself.
And as to the faculties of the mind, setting aside the
arts grounded upon words, and especially that skill of
proceeding upon general, and infallible rules, called sci-
ence; which very few have^ and but in few things; as
being not a native faculty, bom with us; nor attained,
as prudence, while we look after somewhat else, I find
yet a greater equality amongst men, than that of strength.
For prudence, is but experience ; which equal time, equal-
ly bestows on all men, in those things they equally apply
themselves unto. That which may perhaps make such
equality incredible, is but a vain conceit of one's own wis-
dom, which almost all men think they have in a greater
degree, than the vulgar ; that is, than all men but them-
selves, and a few others, whom by fame, or for concur-
Iring with themselves, they approve. For such is the na-
ture of men, that howsoever they may acknowledge many
others to be more witty, or more eloquent, or more learn-
ed; yet they will hardly believe there be many so wise
I as themselves ; for they see their own wit at hand, and
other men's at a distance. But this proveth rather that
men are in that point equal, than unequal. For there is
not ordinarily a greater sign of the equal distribution of
any thing, than that every man is contented with his
share.
From this equality of ability, ariseth equality of hope
in the attaining of our ends. And therefore if any two
men desire the same thing, which nevertheless they can-
not both enjoy, they become enemies; and in the way to
their end, which is principally their own conservation,
and sometimes their delectation only, endeavour to des-
troy, or subdue one another. And from hence it comes
to pass, that where an invader hath no more to fear, than
another man's single power ; if one plant, sow, build, or
possess a convenient seat, others may probably be ex-
pected to come prepared with forces united, to dispossess,
and deprive him, not only of the fruit of his labour,^ but
also of his life, or liberty. And the invader again is in
the like danger of another.
And from this diffidence of one another, there is no
way for any man to secure himself, so reasonable, as
anticipation ; that is, by force, or wiles, to master the per-
sons of all men he can, so long, till he see no other
power great enough to endanger him: and this is no
more than his own conservation reqxiireth, and is gener-
ally allowed. Also because there be some, that taking
pleasure in contemplating their own power in the acts of
conquest, which they pursue farther than their security
requires ; if others, that otherwise would be glad to be
at ease within modest bounds, should not by invasion in-
crease their power, they would not be able, long time,
by standing only on their defence, to subsist. And by
consequence, such augmentation of dominion over men
234
LEVIATHAN
i>
ATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND
235
Pft^C \<>\
being necessary to a man's conservation, it ought to be al-
lowed him.^
Again, menhave no pleasure, but on the contrary a
^eat deal of griet, m keeping company, where there is
^C)0'/lV1^| jio power able to over-awe them all. For every man look-
eth that his companion should value him', at the same rate
he sets upon himself : and upon all signs of contempt, or
undervaluing, naturally endeavours, as far as he dares,
(which amongst them that have no common power to
keep them in quiet, is far enough to make them destroy
each other), to extort a greater value from his contem-
ners, by damage; and from others, by the example.
So that in the nature of man, we find three principal
causes of quarrel. First, competition; second, diffi-
dence; thirdly, glory.
The first, maketh men invade for gain; the second,
for safety; and the third, for reputation. The first use
violence, to make themselves masters of other men's per-
sons, wives, children, and cattle; the second, to defend
them ; the third, for trifles, as a word, a smile, a different
/Compare Human Nature, (M. IV, 85). "Seeing this
right of protecting ourselves by our own discretion and force,
proceedeth from danger, and that danger from the equality be
tween men's forces, much more reason is there, that a man pre-
vent such equality before the danger cometh, and before the ne-
cessity of battle. A man therefore that hath another man in his
power to rule or govern, to do good to, or harm, hath right,
by the advantage of this his present power, to take caution at his
pleasure, for his security against that other in time to come.
He therefore that hath already subdued his adversary, or gotten
into his power any other, that either by infancy, or weakness,
is unable to resist him, by right of nature may take the best cau-
tion, that such infant, or such feeble and subdued person can
give him, of being ruled and governed by him for the time to
come. For seeing we intend always our own safety and preser-
vation, we manifestly contradict that our intention, if we will-
ingly dismiss such a one, ^nd suffer him at once to gather
strength and be our enemy. Out of which may also be collected,
that irresistible might, in the state of nature, is right."
^^
opinion, and any other sign of undervalue, either direct
in their persons, or by reflection in their kindred, their
friends, their nation, their profession, or their name.
Hereby it is manifest, that during the time men live
without a common power to keep them all in awe, they
are in that condition which is called war ; and such a war,
as is of every man, against every man. Foi^AR^onsist-
eth not in battle onlv^orthiactoffighijag^
oTtime. whercinJie^lLto contrad bybattleiisufficient-
Iv knowTTTlInd therefore the notion of time, is to be con-
adi^dThTthe nature of war; as it is in the nature of
weather. For as the nature of foul weather, lieth not
in a shower or two of rain ; but in an inclination thereto
of many davs together : so the nature of war, consisteth
not in actual fighting; but in the known disposition there-
to, during all the time there is no assurance to the con-
trary. All other time is peace.
Whatsoever therefore is consequent to a time of
war where every man is enemy to every man ; the same
is consequent to the time, wherein men live without other
security, than what their own strength, and their own in-
vention shall furnish them withal. In such condition
there is no place for industry; because the fruit thereof
is uncertain: and consequently no culture of the earth;
no navigation, nor use of the commodities that may be
imported bv sea; no commodious building; no instru-
mcpts of moving, and removing, such things as require
much force; no knowledge of the face of the earth; no
account of ^ime; no arts; no letters; no society; and
which is worst of all, continual fear, and danger of
violent death ; and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty,
brutish, and short. ,
It may seem strange to some man, that has not well
weighed these things; that nature should thus dissociate.
I
236
LEVIATUAN
and render men apt to invade, and destroy one another :
and he may therefore, not trusting to this inference,
made from the passions, desire perhaps to have the same
confirmed by experience. Let him therefore consider
with himself, when taking a journey, he arms himself,
and seeks to go well accompanied ; when going to sleep,
he locks his doors; when even in his house he locks his
chests; and this when he knows there be laws, and public
officers, armed, to revenge all injuries shall be done him ;
what opinion he has of his fellow-subjects, when he
rides armed; of his fellow citizens, when he locks his
doors; and of his children, and servants, when he locks
his chests. Does he not there as much accuse mankind
by his actions, as I do by my words ? But neither of us
accuse man's nature in it. The desires, and other pas-
sions of man, are in themselves no sin. No more are the
actions, that proceed from those passions, till they know
a law that forbids them : which till laws be made they can-
not know : nor can any law be made, till they have agreed
upcMi the person that shall make it.*
2 Compare Leviathan, (M. Ill, 277). "A sin, is not on-
ly a transgression of a law, but also any contempt of the legis-
lator. For such contempt, is a breach of all his laws at once^
And therefore may consist, not only in the commission of a fact,
or in speaking of words by the laws forbidden, or in the omis-
sion of what the law commandeth, but also in the intention, or
purpose to transgress. For the purpose to break the law, is
some degree of contempt of him, to whom it belongeth to see it
executed. To be delighted in the imagination only, of being
possessed of another man's goods, servants, or wife, without any
intention to take them from him by force or fraud, is no breach
of the law, that saith, TJwu shalt not covet: nor is the pleasure
a man may have in imagining or dreaming of the death of him,
from whose life he expecteth nothing but damage, and dis-
pleasure, a sin; but the resolving to put some act in execution,
that tendeth thereto. For to be pleased in the fiction of that,
which would please a man if it were real, is a passion so adher-
ent to the nature both of man, and every other living creature,
is to make it a sin, were to make sin of being a man. The con-
NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND 237:
It may peradventure be thought, there was never such
a time nor condition of war as this ; and I believe it was
never generally so, over all the world : but there are many
places, where they live so now. For the savage people in
many places of America, except the government of sma 1
families, the concord whereof dependeth on natural lust
have no government at all ; and live at this day m that
brutish manner, as I said before. Howsoever, it may be
perceived what manner of life there would be, where
there were no common power to fear, by the manner of
life which men that have formerly lived under a peace-
ful government, use to degenerate into, in a civil war.
■A f;^« nf thi<; has made me think them too severe, both to
t^lrXs^ anf ither^.That. maintain, that the fi-t mot.ons o
"ind. ihough checked w.th the f^r o^^^^*!^^'^^^^ ^ih^rA
commanded, bo tn«»i every ^»""~ .^ ^ -' tboiiffh it never ap-
crime, To intend to stea. - ,^«;, ^^e^the Zughts" of J^,
pear m word, or »« . wr uoa y something done,
Sn'^o^S trth^faw-rTnVoVcre to the -U .aw, may be
[&%rst. that wh^r^^^^^^^
cause the law of "^'""..'y^jTontrary to any moral virtue, can
tude, arrogance, and all t2«5 c°|"'^*[/ . the civil law ceasing,
"•^-^^^ '^J°i^r the"re bdnTn^othef law remaining, but that
Sfon of sovereign power can be ,=«PP°^f ^*?,t«'VJeof all
^■t*rettrwa7"o?dated°^^^^^^^
^a"ltho^^Hr pSerymTrtt^^^^^^^^^^
V
238
LEVIATHAN
NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND
239
But though there had never been any time, wherein'
particular men were in a condition of war one against
another; yet in all times, kings, and persons of sovereign
authority, because of their independency, are in continual
jealousies, and in the state and posture of gladiators;
having their weapons pointing, and their eyes fixed on
one another ; that is, their forts, garrisons, and guns up-
on the frontiers of their kingdoms; and continual spies
upon their neighbours ; which is a posture of war. But be-
cause they uphold thereby, the industry of their subjects ;
there does not follow from it, that misery, which accom-
panies the liberty of particular men.
To this war of every man, against every man, this
also is consequent; that nothing can be unjust. The
notions of right and wrong, justice and injustice have
there no place. Where there is no common power, th ere
is no law: where no law, no injustice. Force, and fraug^
are in war the two cardinal virtues. Justice, and injus-
tice are none of the faculties neither of the body, nor mind.
If they were, they might be in a man that were alone in
the world, as well as his senses, and passions. They are
from the beginning." Also Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II,
152). "That is my sin iudeed, which committing I do believe
to be my sin ; but what I believe to be another man's sin, I may
sometimes do that without any sin of mine. For if I be command-
ed to do that which is a sin in him who commands me, if I do it,
and he that commands me be by right lord over me, I sin not. For
if I wage war at the commandment of my prince, conceiving the
war to be unjustly undertaken, I do not therefore do unjust-
ly; but rather if I refuse to do it, arrogating to myself the
knowledge of what is just and unjust, which pertains only to
my prince. They who observe not this distinction, will fall into
a necessity of sinning, as oft as anything is commanded them
which either is, or seems to be unlawful to them: for
if they obey, they sin against their conscience; and if they
obey not, against right. If they sin against their conscience,
they declare that they fear not the pains of the world to come ;
if they sin against right, they do. as much as in them lies,
abolish human society and the civil Hfe of the present world."
qualities, that relate to men in society, not in solitude.
It is consequent also to the same condition, that there be
no propriety, no dominion, no mine and thine distinct;
but onlv that to be every man's, that he can get; and for
so long, as he can keep it/ And thus much for the .1
condition, which man by mere nature is actually placed
in ; though with a possibility to come out of it, consisting
pal-tlv in the passions, partly in his reason.
The passions that incline men to peace, are fear 01
death ; desire of such things as are necessary to comnio-
,dious living; and a hope by their industry to obtain
I them. And reason suggesteth convenient articles ot
peace, upon which men may be dra%vn to agreement.
These articles, are they, which otherwise are called t le
I^ws of Nature: whereof I shall speak more particularly,
in the two following chapters.
PARALLEL CHAPTER KKOM
PHILOSOPHICAL RUDIMENTS CONCERNING
GOVERNMENT.
CHAPTER I.
OF THE STATE OF MEN WITHOUT CIVIL SOCIETY.
The faculties of human nature may be reduced untc
four kinds ; bodily strength, experience, reason, passion.
• See above p. 147 «• 3- and compare below Chapter XV
•Compare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II, 84 n.). What
is objerted by some, [hat the propriety . of goods, 'ven be ore
he constitution of cities, was found m f^jthers of fam.l es
that obiection is vain; because I have already declared, that a
W1 V rriktle dtv For the sons of a family have a propn-
etrof their goods granted them by their father, distmgu.shed in-
deed from the rest of the sons of the same family, but not from
fhe propHety of the father himself. But the fathers of divers
familks?who are subject neither to any common father nor lord,
have a common right in all things.
\
340
LEVIATHAN
NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND
^41
Taking the beginning of this following doctrine from
these, we will declare, in the first place, what manner of
inclinations men who are endued with these faculties bear
towards each other, and whether, and by what faculty
they are bom apt for society, and to preserve themselves
against mutual violence; then proceeding, we will show
what advice was necessary to be taken for this business,
and what are the conditions of society, or of human
peace; that is to say, (changing the words only), what
are the fundamental laws of nature.
2. The greatest part of those men who have written
aught concerning commonwealths, either .suppose, or re-
quire us or beg of us to believe, that man is a creature
bom fit* for society. The Greeks call him C«5ov noXcrcxov;
and on this foundation they so build up the doctrine cf
civil society, as if for the preservation of peace, and the
government of mankind, there were nothing else neces-
sary than that men should agree to make certain cove-
nants and conditions together, which themselves should
then call laws. Which axiom, though received by most, is
yet certainly false ; and an error proceeding from our too
slight contemplation of human nature. For they who shall
more narrowly look into the causes for which men come
*Born /it] Since we now see actually a constituted society
among men, and none livmg out of it, since we discern all de-
sirous of congress and mutual correspondence, it may seem a
wonderful kind of stupidity, to lay in the very threshold of this
doctrine such a stumbling block before the reader, as to deny
man to be born fit for society. Therefore I must more plainly say,
that It IS true indeed, that to man by nature, or as man, that is,
as soon as he is born, solitude is an enemy; for infants have
need of others to help them to live, and those of riper years to
help them to live well. Wherefore I deny not that men (even
nature compelling) desire to come together. But civil societies
are not mere meetings, but bonds, to the making 'whereof faith
and compacts are necessary; the virtue whereof to children and
tools, and the profit whereof to those who have not yet tasted
together, and delight in each other's company, shall easily
find that this happens not because naturally it could
happen no otherwise, but by accident. For if by nature
one man should love another, that is, as man, there could
no reason be returned why every man should not equal y
love every man, as being equally man; or why he should
rather frequent those, whose society affords him honour
or profit. We do not the refore by nature seek societv for
; fc^^^ «Wf. but that we " ^"y receive some honour or
profit from it; these we desire primarily, that second-
arily. How, by what advice, men do meet, will be best
known by observing those things which they do when
they are met. For if they meet for traffic, it is plain
every man regards not his fellow, but his business ; if
to discharge some office, a certain market-friendship is
begotten, which hath more of jealousy in it than true love
and whence factions sometimes may arise, but good will
never • if for pleasure and recreation of mind, every man
is wont to please himself most with those things which
stir up laughter, whence he may, according to the nature
of that which is ridiculous, by comparison of another
man's defects and infirmities, pass the more current in his
the miseries which accompany its defects, is altogether un-
knot -whence Tt happens, that those, because they know not
whaTsiciety is, cannot enter into it ; Aese because .g^oran of
the benefit it brings, care not for it. Manifest therefore it is,
that all men, because they are bom in '"fa"'?'. "%^™ ?"5e
for societv Many also, perhaps most men, either through de-
fert of mtad or want of education, remain unfit dunng the whole
course of their lives; yet have they. •"f='"t«„f„ ^f ".^2^ ^
riper years, a human nature. Wherefore mnn is m^nf flt wr-
r^ ^^tv not hv na ^-", Knt by education. Furthermore, altnough
r^an we"e bSm in " such a condition as t o desire it, it follows not
Sat he therefore were bom fit to enter into it. For it is one
thfne to desire, another to be in capacity fit for what we desire
for lv°n th^!who through their pride, will not ^oop to e^ua
conditions, without which there can be no society, do yet desire
it
III
242
LEVIATHAN
NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND
^43
own opinion. And although this be sometimes innocent
and without offence, yet it is manifest they are not so
much delighted with the society, as their own vain glory.
But for the most part, in these kinds of meeting we
wound the absent; their whole life, sayings, actions arc
examined, judged, condemned. Nay, it is very rare but
some present receive a fling as soon as they part ; so as
his reason was not ill, who was wont always at parting to
go out last. And these are indeed the true delights of so-
ciety, unto which we are carried by nature, that is, by
those passions which are incident to all creatures, until
either by sad experience or good precepts it so fall out,
which in many it never happens, that the appetite of pres-
ent matters be dulled with the memory of things past:
without which the discourse of most quick and nimble
men on this subject, is but cold and hungry.
But if it so happen, that being met they pass their
time in relating some stories, and one of them begins to
tell one which concerns himself; instantly every one of
the rest most greedily desires to speak of himself too;
if one relates some wonder, the rest will tell you mira-
cles, if they have them; if not, they will feign them.
Lastly, that I may say somewhat of them who pretend to
be wiser than others : if they meet to talk of philosophy,
look, how many men, so many would be esteemed mas-
ters, or else they not only love not their fellows, but even
persecute them with hatred. So clear is it by experience
to all men who a little more narrowly consider human
affairs, that all free congress ariseth either from mutual
poverty, or from vain glory, whence the parties met en-
deavour to carry with them either some benefit, or to
leave behind them that same eddoxt/ieiv, some esteem
an honour with those, with whom they have been con-
versant. The same is also collected by reason out of the
definitions themselves of will, good, honour, profitable.
For when we voluntarily contract society, in all manner
of society we look after the object of the will, that is,
that which everyone of those who gather together, pro-
pounds to himself for good. Now, whatsoever seems
good, is pleasant, and relates either to the senses,
or the mind. But all the mind's pleasure is eith-
er glory, (or to have a good opinion of one's
self), or refers to glory in the end; the rest are sen-
sual, or conducing to sensuality, which may be all
comprehended under the word conveniences, AUjodetx
therefore is either for gain, or for glor ^; that is, not so
much for love of our fellows, as f nrthe love of our-
I selves. But no society can be great or lasting, which
b^ih^ from vain glory. Because that glory is like hon-
our ; if all men have it no man hath it, for they consist m
comparison and precellence. Neither doth the society
of others advance any whit the cause of my glorymg m
myself ; for every man must account himself, such as he
can make himself without the help of others. But though
the benefits of this life may be much furthered by mu-
tual help ; since yet those may be better attained to by do-
minion than by the society of others, I hope no body will
doubt, but that mgp.^<»vf. answered, that a son cannot.be
doth he him no mjury? l-^^J'. ^Xgtate of nature, as being
in the ninth chapter.
m
248
LEVIATHAN
cause whatsoever a man would, it therefore seems good
to him because he wills it, and either it really doth, or
at least seems to him to contribute towards his preser-
vation, (but we have already allowed him to be judge,
m the foregoing article, whether it doth or not, insomuch
as we are to hold all for necessary whatsoever he shall
esteem so), and by the 7th article it appears that by
the right of nature those things may be done, and must
be had, which necessarily conduce to the protection of
hfe and members, it follows, tliat in the state of nature
to have all, and do all, is lawful for all. And this is thai
which IS meant by that common saying, nature hath giv
en all to all. From whence we understand likewise,
^^^^ ^^^ .^^^^^ ^{ "^ture profit is the me ^^s^ yfro ^f r;^T. f'
^^- -t^ut it was the least benefit for men thus to have a
common right to all things. For the effects of this right/
are the same, almost, as if there had been no right at all |
For although any man might say of every thing, this is
mine, yet could he not enjoy it, by reason of his neigh-
bour, who having equal right and equal power, would
pretend the same thing to be his.
12. If now to this natural proclivity of men, to hurt
each other, which they derive from their passions, but
chiefly from a vain esteem of themselves, you add, the
nght of all to all, wherewith one by right invades! the
other by right resists, and whence arise perpetual jeal-
ousies and suspicions on all hands, and how hard a thing
It IS to provide against an enemy invading us with an
intention to oppress and ruin, though he come with a
small number, and no great provision ; it cannot be dc-
I nied but that thejiatural state of men, before they ^ n- '
M ^ered into societ y, was a mere war , and that not simply
i but a war of all men against all m^n For what is war'
but that same time in which the will of contesting by
*>L^uS^tA^>-^^\,.^JZ. yOy^^^:<^^^ '^ ttJZL^^
:•
> ATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND 249
force is fully declared, either by words or deeds? The
time remaining is termed PEACE.
n But it is easily judged how disagreeable a thing to
the preservation either of mankind, or of each smgle
man; a perpetual war is. But it is perpetual m its own
nature; because in regard of the equality of those that
strive, it camiot be ended by victory. For m this state
the conqueror is subject to so much danger, as it were
to be accounted a miracle, if any, even the most strong,
should close up his Ufe with many years and old age.
They of America are examples hereof, even m this pres-
ent age : other nations have been in former ages ; which
now indeed are become civil and flourishing but were
then few, fierce, short-lived, poor, nasty, and deprived
of all that pleasure and beauty of life, which peace and
society are wont to bring with them. Whosoever there-
fore holds, that it had been best to have continued in
that state in which all things were lawful for all men,
he contradicts himself. For every man by natural ne-
cessity desires that which is good for him : nor is there
any that esteems a war of all against all. which necessar-
ily adheres to such a state, to be good for him. And so i
happens, that through fear of each other we think it fit
to rid ourselves of this condition, and to get some fel-
lows; that if there needs must be war, it may not yet be
against all men, nor without some helps.
14 Fellows are gotten either by constraint, or by con-
sent; by constraint, when after fight the conqueror
mak s the conquered serve him, either through fear of
death or by laying fetters on him : by consent, when
t^'eZrLlJcty to help each other, both parties
consenting without any constraint. But the conqueror
mav by right compel the conquered, or the strongest the
weakeJ, (as a man in health may one that is sick, or he
It
arso
LEVIATHAN
that is of riper years a child), unless he will choose to
die, to give caution of his future obedience. For since
the right of protecting ourselves according to our own
wills, proceeded from our danger, and our danger from
our equality, it is more consonant to reason, and more
certain for our conservation, using the present advantage
to secure ourselves by taking caution, than when they
shall be full grown and strong, and got out of our power,
to endeavour to recover that power again by doubtful
fight. And on the other side, nothing can be thought more
absurd, than by discharging whom you already have
weak in your power, to make him at once both an enemy
and a strong one. From whence we may understand
.likewise as a corollaryGn the natural state of men, that
/ a sure and irresistible power confers the right of do-
} minion and ruling over those who cannot resist; inso-
much, as the right of all things that can be done, ad-
heres essentially and immediately unto this omnipotence
hence arising.
15. Yet cannot men expect any lasting preservation,
continuing thus in the state of nature, that is, of war,
by reason of that equality of power, and other human fac-
tulties they are endued withal. Wherefore to sppW p^arp ,
where there is any hopes of obtaming it, and w here there
is none, to enquire out for atiyili aries of wa r, is the dic-
tate of right reason, that is. the law of n ature ; as shall
be showed in the next chapter.
CHAPTER XIV.
OF THE ^IRST AND SFXOND NATURAL LAWS, AND OF
CONTRACTS.
The right of nature, which writers commonly call jus
naturale, is the Uberty each man hath, to use his own
power, as he will himself, for the preservation of his own
Mature; that is to say, of his own life; and consequentb-,
of doing anything, which in his own judgment and
reason, he shall conceive to be the aptest means there-
unto. i_
By LIBERTY, is understood, according to the proper
signification of the word, the absence of external impedi-
ments: which impediments, may oft take ^way Part of ^
man's power to do what he would ; but cannot hmder hm,
from using the power left him, according as his judg-
ment, and reason shall dictate to him.'
I A LAW OF NATURE, Ux naturdis, is a precept or gen-
eral rule, found out by reason, by which a man is for-
bidden to do that, which is destructive of his life, or taketh
away the means of preserving the same ; and to omit tto,
by which he thinketh it may be best preserved. For
though they that speak of this subject, use to confound
•Compare H«.««„ Nature (^^ ^V' S^hndlsirrSt
as necessity of nature «»^f^''^ J^ to wUl J^^^^^^^ ^^j^,
sibi, that which IS good for tn=";seives an ^^^^
is hurtful ; but most of all, the terTrt)le '"""y °' j ^ijo the
from whom we expect »>?* t'l^l°?^ °.^t u'^ot aga"nst reason,
greatest of WUy Piun^m he losmg .t ,s not ^g ^^^ ^.^^^
that a man doth all he can " P^^e^" . . j ^ against reason.
T^j^rz^irt^^'^ hi: 't:^r^ty&^ with ,.. the
power he hath.
•Compare above p. I59. "• 5-
252
LEVIATHAN
NATURAL LAWS
253
jus, and lex, right and law: yet they ought to be disn
tinguished; because right, consisteth in Hb erty t o do,
or to f orbear: whereas law. detenu ineth . and bindeth to
nn<> rwf tl^fifn ; SO that law, and right, differ as much, as
obHgation, and Hberty ; which in one and the same matter
are inconsistent.*
And because the condition of man, as hath been de-
clared in the precedent chapter, is a condition of war of
every one against every one; in which case every one
IS governed by his own reason; and there is nothing he
can make use of,that may not be a help unto him, in pre-
serving his life against his enemies ; it followeth, that in
such a condition, every man has a right to every thing;
even to one another's body. And therefore, as long as
this natural right of every man to every thing endureth,
there can be no security to any man, how strong or wise
soever he be, of living out the time, which nature ordin-
arily allow^th men to live. And consequently it is a pre-
cept,, or general rule of reason, that every man, ought
to endeavour peace, as far as he has hope of obtaining it;
and when he cannot obtain it, that he may seek, and iise^
"Compare Philosophical Rdiments, (M.) IL 186). "Now
natural liberty is a right not constituted, but allowed by the
laws. For the laws being removed, our liberty is absolute.
This is first restrained by the natural and divine laws; the res-
idue is bounded by the civil law; and what remains, may again
be restrained by the constitutions of particular towns and so-
cieties. There is great difference therefore between law and
right. For law is a fetter, right is freedom; and they differ like
contraries." Also De Cor pore Politico, (M. IV, 87). "Reas-
on is no less of the nature of man than passion, and is the same
in all men, because all men agree in the will to be directed and'
governed in the way to that which they desire to attain, namely,
their own good, which is the work of reason: there can there-
fore be no other law of nature than reason, nor no other pre-
cepts of natural law, than those which declare unto us the ways
of peace, where the same may be obtained, and of defence where
it may not."
)all helps, and advantages of war. The first branch of ,
which r^le. containeth the first, and fundamenal law I I ^^^
of nature; which is. '- -"'' f"-' ""^ ^"""^ »• ^H
second, the sum of the right of nature ; which is, by
all means we can, to defend ourselves. _
From this fundamental law of nature, by which men
are commanded to endeavour peace, is derived this f^ yj >
•ondjav^ that a man be willing, when others ^^re so too n.
asl^orth. as for peace, and defence of hmselfheshaU
thLk it necessary, to lay down th^s nght to al tJ^^ngs
and be contented with so much hberty «f .'"^^ f ^l^^M
as he would allow other men against himself, bor as
long as every man holdeth this right of doing any thmg
he liketh; so long are all men in th^cond.tlon of war
But if other men will not lay down their right, as wdl a
he; then there is no reason for anyone, to divest h mself
of his: for that were to expose himself to prey, which no
man is bound to, rather than to dispose himself to peace
This" is that law of the Gospel ; whatsoever you require
that others should do to you, that do ye to them And
that law of all men, quod tibi fieri non vvsalteri ne fecm
To lay down a man's right to any thing, is to it^«
himself of the liberty, of hindering another of the benefi
of his own right to the same. For he chat ^enouncetl^ or
passeth away his right, giveth not to any other man a
Lht which he had not before ; because there .s nothing o
^hich e,ery man had not right by nature- Dut on^.
standeth out of his way, that he "^^y ^^J^^ ^'^.7" °"^.
inal right, without hindrance from him; not without h.n
Trance fr^m another. So that the effect which redound-
eth to one man, by another man's defect of right, 1 bu
so much diminution of impediments to the use of his
own ris:ht original. . .
Right is laid aside, either by simply renouncing it.
/
NATURAL LAWS
255
«54
LEVIATHAN
/ or by transferring it to another. By simply renouncin g ;
when he cares not to whom the benefit thereof redound-
I
cth. By transferring; when he intendeth the benefit
thereof to some cetam person, or persons. And when a
man hath in either manner abandoned, or granted away
his right; then is he said to be o blige d, or bound ,* not
to hinder those, to whom such right is granted, or aband-
oned, from the benefit of it : and that he ought, and it is
his DUTY, not to make void that voluntary act of his own :
and that such hindrance is injustice, and injury, as
being sme jure;tht right being before renoimced, or trans-
ferred. So that injury, or injustice, in the controversies
of the world, is somewhat like to that, which in the dis-
putations of scholars is called absurdity. For as it is there
called an absurdity, to contradict what one maintained in
the beginning: so in the world, it is called injustice, and
injury, voluntarily to undo that, which from the beginning
he had voluntarialy done. The way by which a man either
simply renounceth, or transferreth his right, is a declar-
ation, or signification, by some voluntary and sufficient
sign, or signs, that he doth so renounce, or transfer; or
hath so renounced, or transferred the same, to him that
accepteth it. And these signs are either words only, or
actions only ; or, as it happeneth most often, both words,
and actions. And the same are the bonds, by which men
are bound, and obliged : bonds, that have their strength,
not from their own nature, for nothing is more easily
broken than a man*s word, but from fear of some evil
consequence upon the rupture.
Whensoever a man transferreth his right, or renounc-
eth it; it is either in consideration of some right recip-
*Compare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II. no). "All obli-
gation derives from contract." (M. II. 183). "To follow what
is prescribed by lazu, is duty; whr.t by counsel, is free will."
rocally transferred to himself; or for some other good
he hopeth for thereby. For it is a voluntary act : and of
the voluntary acts of every man, the object is some
good to himself. And therefore there be some rights,
which no man can be understood by any words or other
signs, to have abandoned, or transferred. As first a
mS camiot lay down the right of resisting them. Jh^^
assault him by force, to take away his life; because he
cannot be understood to aim thereby, at any good to
himself. The same may be said of wounds, and chams,
and imprisonment; both because there is no benefit con-
sequent to such patience; as there is to the pafence of
suffering another to be wounded, or imprisoned: as also
because a man cannot tell, when he seeth nien Proceed
against him by violence, whether they intend his death
bf not. And lastly the motive, and end for which this
renouncing, and transferring of right is int;oduced, is
nothing else but the security of a i"^" « P^'^°"' /" 'V'
life, and in the means of so preserving hfe, as not to be
weary of it. And therefore if a man by words or other
!^S7 seem to despoil himself of the end, for which
Ee sS^were intended; he is not to be understood as
Jhe mSnt it, or that it was his will; but that he was
ignorant of how such words and actions were to be in-
terpreted.®
making of a <:om'J°"''f'''''rnfdTfend?ng himself. Also he
of defending another; but not of detenamg mm ^^^
obligeth himself, to ^^^f^^'^'weU not But to covenant to
punishing of another: but P^^^™^^" "°„other unless he that
assist the sovereign, m domg ^urt to ^mottier, u ^^.^
so covenanteth have a nght ^^^"^^j'^'t'^r/efo e that the right
a right to pun.sh. It is "amfest tnere o represent
which the commonwealth, that is, ne, or "'^^ . .{, „{
Thath to punish, is not grounded °" =",7 J^^ H' b^*"'^"*'
thf .subiects But I have also showed formerly. "}at Deio c
institution of commonwealth, every man had a nght to every
256
LEVIATHAN'
I
The mutual transferring of right, is that which men
call CONTRACT.
There is difference between transferring of right to
the thing; and transferring, or tradition, that is delivery
of the thing itself. For the thing may be delivered to-
gether with the translation of the right; as in buying
and selling with ready-money ; or exchange of goods, or
lands: and it may be delivered some time after.
Again, one of the contractors, may deliver the thing
contracted for on his part, and leave the other to perform
his part at some determinate time after, and in the mean
time be trusted; and then the contract on his part, is
called PACT, or covenant: or both parts may contract
now, to perform hereafter: in which cases, he that is to
perform in time to come, being trusted, his performance
is called keeping of promise, or faith ; and the failing of
performance, if it be voluntary, violation of faith.^
When the transferring of right, is not mutual: but
bne of the parties transferreth, in hope to gain thereby
friendship, or service from another, or from his friends;
Dr in hope to gain the reputation of charity, or magnan-
thing, and to do whatsoever he thought necessary to his own
preservation; subduing, hurting, or killing any man in order
thereunto. And this is the foundation of that right of punishing,
which is exercised in every commonwealth. For the subjects
did not g^ve the sovereign that right; but only in laying down
theirs, strengthened him to use his own, as he should think fit,
for the preservation of them all: so that it was not given, but
left to him, and to him only; and (excepting the limits set
him by natural law) as entire, as in the condition of mere nature,
knd of war of every one against his neighbor."
•Compare De Cor pore Politico, (M. IV. 221). "So that
the difference between a covenant and a law, standeth thus: in
pimple covenant, the action to be done, or not done, is first limit-
ed and made known, and then followeth the promise to do or not
do; but in a law, the obligation to do or not to do. precedeth,
and the declaration what is to be done, or not done, followeth
after."
NATURAl. LAWS
2S7
in.ity or to deliver his mind from ^"^^ ^\;\^Z-
^Sn; or in hope o. '""^;'^'-"S to s "S
tract, but n^^Tv_FREE-GiFT, GRACE, wincn
one and the same thing. . ,
time present, or past; as / groe. ^ f^' ^ ^ |„.
;ra.T:;i-^r;S;«.-=»o,.o,.He
of ,orf,; i«ti"« *« oon.ece »' »"»"• ^^.
,.„„ o< '<''^™^»:TwhTl™rt»c«fra'
inference, of any contract, is wna..
ones the will of the contractor.
'Wordr alone, if they be of the time to come and
conl a bare promise, are an insuihc.nt -^ o^a free
gift, and therefore not obhgatory For f they D
fhe time to come, as to-morrow J mil ^-•^' J^^^f ^^^
sign I have not given yet, and «r J^^^^^J ^.ft
rSt is not transferred but -— ^f/J^ .me
bv some other act But 11 me wui
t ds .'/o^.oc ium esse eras, and eras 'iobo;^^^-^^
betwe;n I mil that this be thine "'-"»^''';«''.;"^: !^^,
,,.e it thee to.norro.; ^or ^^^jor, ImU .nj.jo^r^
manner of speech, signifies an act of the wi P
but in the latter, it signifies a promise of an act of
358
LHVIATHAN
will to come: and therefore the former words, being
of the present, transfer a future right; the latter, that
be of the future, transfer nothing. But if there be other
signs of the will to transfer a right, besides words;
then, though the gift be free, yet may the right be un-
derstood to pass by words of the future : as if a man pro-
pound a prize to him that comes first to the end of a
race, the gift is free; and though the words be of the
future, yet the right passeth : for if he would not have
his words so be understood, he should not have let them
run.
In contracts, the right passeth, not only where the
words are of the time present, or past, but also where
they are of the future: because all contract is mutual
translation, or change of right; and therefore he that
promiseth only, because he hath already received the
benefit for which he promiseth, is to be understood as
if he intended the right should pass: for unless he had
been content to have his words so understood, the other
would not have performed his part first. And for that
cause, in buying, and selling, and other acts of contract,
a promise is equivalent to a covenant; and therefore
obligatory.
He that performeth first in the case of a contract,
is said to merit that which he is to receive by the per-
formance of the other ; and he hath it as due. Also when
a prize is propounded to many, which is to be given to
him only that winneth; or money is thrown amongst
many, to be enjoyed by them that catch it; though
this be a free gift; yet so to win, or so to catch, is to-
merit, and to have it as due. For the right is trans-
ferred in the propounding of the prize, and in throwing
down the money ; though it be not determined to whom,
but by the event of the contention. But there is between
NATURAL LAWS
299
there two sorts of merit, this difference, that in con-
tract, 1 merit by virtue of my own power, and the con-
tractor's need ; but in this case of free gift, I am en-
abled to merit only by the benignity of the giver: in
contract, I merit at the contractor's hand that he should
depart with his right ; in this case of gift, I merit not
that the giver should part with his right; but that when
he has parted with it, it should be mine, rather than
another's And this I think to be the meanmg of that
distinction of the Schools, between meritum congrui, and
meritum condigni For God Almighty, having promised
Paradise to those men, hoodwinked with carnal desires,
that can walk tlirough this world according to the pre-
cepts, and limits prescribed bv him; they say, he that
shall so walk, shall merit Paradise ex congruo. But be-
cause no man can demand a right lo it, ^y^J^^^Y'^J^e
cousness, or any other power in himself, but by the
free jjrace ol God only ; they say, no man can merit Far ■
adise%.r condigno. This I say, I think is the meamm.
of that distmction; but because disputers do not agre.
upon the signification of their own terms of art, longe.
Ihan it serves their turn; I will not affirm any thing of
their meaning: only U.is I say; -^f^, ^, ^ V' St win"
definitely, as a prize to be contended for, he taat wm
neth meriteth, anc may claim the prize as due.
If a covenant be made, wherein neither of the parties
perform presently, but trust one -f er ; in^he condit o^
of mere nature, which is a condition of ^ar of e^iT
man against every man, upon any ^--^^^^^^^^^
it is void : but if there be a common power set over
hem both, with right and force sufficient ^o^^^^^^
fnrmance it is not void. For he that performe h first,
has no L-ance the other will perform after; because
the bonds of words are too weak to bridle men's ambition.
-»^
260
LEVIATHAN
NATURAL LAWS
261
^^^
fA
Hvarice, anger, and other passions, without the fear of
some coercive power; which in the condition of mere na-
ture, where all men are equal, and judges of the justness
of their own fears, cannot possibly be supposed. And
therefore he which performeth first, does but betray him-
self to his enemy ; contrary to the right, he can never aban-
don, of defending his life, and means of living.
But in a civil estate, where there is a power set up
to constrain those that would otherwise violate their faith,
that fear is no more reasonable; and for that cause, he
which by the covenant is to perform first, is obliged so to
do.
The cause of fear, which maketh such a covenant
invalid, must be always something arising after the cov-
enant made; as some new fact, or other sign of the
will not to perform : else it cannot make the covenant void.
For that which could not hinder a man from promising,
ought not to be admitted as a hindrance of performing.
He that transferreth any right, transferreth the means
of enjoying it, as far as lieth in his power. As he that sell-
eth land, is understood to transfer the herbage, and what-
soever grows upon it : nor can he that sells a mill turn
away the stream that drives it. And they that give to a
man the right of government in sovereignty, are under-
stood to give him the right of levying money to maintain
soldiers ; and of appointing magistrates for the administra-
tion of justice.
To make covenants with brute beasts, is impossible;
because not understanding our speech, they understand
not, nor accept of any translation of right ; nor can trans-
late any right to another: and without mutual accepta-
tion, there is no covenant.''
'Compare Levtathan, (M. Ill, 257). "Over natural fools.
I
Tn make covenant with God, is impossible, but by
supernatural, or '^> '"^ ' ^^ ^^^^ not whether our
and in his name: for otherwise w , ^ t^at
i^tif fVip law that binds them.
The matter or subject of a covenant, is always some-
u- th^Skth under deliberation; for to covenant, is
thing that ialletn unuci ^ ^^
an act of the --^''■'''^^\C.^l\ZTs'::LtocA to be
of deliberation; and »^ f^^f ?^ ^^^^^^^ possible for him
something to come ; and which is juagea p
that covenanteth. to perform. ^^ ^
And therefore, to P'°f •^^"^^^"f '^ve impossible
impossible, ^n^bir wastoiCS: thlToven-
afterwards which befor was t^^^ ^^^ ^^.^^ .^^,,^
ant IS valid, and ^^'^^f '?^^^^^^ impossible, to the un-
yet to the value; or.f^^^^^^^^ ^^^ ,, is possible:
feigned endeavour of periomim^ as
for to more no man can be obliged
1 Men are freed of tl-r covenant ^S.ran^e.'i s'S.e
I^^^Sionfr^^^^^^^^ the restitution
Kse they had never P°''Yh,*°o?!=' and consequently, never
understand the consequences the«°\j a ^^ ^^"^'<^'.nA
took upon them to a"t"°"^*t,eraselves a commonwealth. And
they must do that make to theraselves a ^^^^^ away the
as those from whom nature or acciaei« ^j,„„
^otce of all laws in Kenerall so aho evenr ma^f^^ ^ath Uken
any accident, not ?>•<>=«<*'"? /XLnv particular law, is excused,
rVe r-Ti? ^^otf and-Ts^Ko^pW *at law « no Uiw
to him."
362
LEVIATHAN
NATURAL LAWS
«63
rhV'oW-^ '^' '^'"^ * '^fansferring of that right, in which
the obhgaticm consisted.
I Covenants entered into by fear, in the condition of
/mere nature, are obligatory. For example, if I covenant
IT ^'^"'"'"^ °' '''^''' ^""^ "y "'f^' to »n enemy ; I
am bound by .t : for it is a contract, wherein one receiveth
Ae benefit of hfe; the other is to receive money, or service
IZa!- ^"V"'^'^"'"*'^' ^''^'^ "° °ther Ia;v, as in the
condition of mere nature, forbiddeth the performance, the
covenant .s valid. Therefore prisoners of war, if trusted
witfi Ae payment of their ransom, are obliged to pay it:
and If a weaker prince, make a disadvantageous peace
as hath been said before, there ariseth some new, and jus
iTl- ^ ^""' '° ''^'''^ "^y'^'^ f^-" - thief
by promising him money, I am bound to pay it, till the
cml hw discharge me. For whatsoever /may law 1
do without obligation, the same I may lawfully covenant to
that hath passed away his right to one man to-day
hath It not to pass to-morrow to another: and therefore
the later promise passeth no right, but is null
j A covenant not to defend myself from force, by force
lis always void. For, as I have showed befor^ no man
can transfer, or lay down his right to save himU fZ
death, wounds, imprisonment, the avoiding whereof is
the only end of laying down any right; L there oe
he promise of not resisting force, in no covenant trans!
ferreth any right ; nor is obliging. For though a man may
covenant thus, unless I do so, or so, kill L; heTaZ^
covenant thus, unless I do so, or so. I ^ill not rLTyou
when you come to kill me. For man by nature chooseA
Sie lesser evil, which is danger of death m resisting;
rather than the greater, which is certain and Presen Uieath
in not resisting. And this is granted to be true by all men
n that they lead criminals to execution, and prison, with
armed mS notwithstanding that such criminah have con-
sented to the law, by which they are condemned.
A covenant to accuse oneself, without assurance of
nardon. is likewise invalid. For in the condition of nature,
wheS^eU man is judge, there is no place for accusa-
d«^ and in the civil state, the accusation is followed
Z pmlshment ; which being force, a man is not obliged
L; to resist. The same is also true, of *e a^u ^'l
of those by whose condemnation a man falls into misery ,
Z of a ather. wife, or benefactor. For the testimony of
ch an als'er, if it be not willingly given s presumed
to be corrupted by nature ; and therefore not to be re
ceived : and where a man's testimony is not to be credited,
he is not bound to give it. Also accusations up«n ortur^
are not to be reputed as testimonies. F^j^ torture 'S to ^
used but as means of conjecture, and light n he further
examination, and search of truth: and -^at ^« m that ^^
confessed, tendeth to the ease of hmi ^^'J^^^^i
„«t to the informing of the torturers : and therefore ougni
Z o Sve the^edh of a sufficient testimony : for whether
hrdeUvTr himself by true, or false accusation, he does it
hv the rieht of preserving his own hfe.
'' ?he f^ce of words, being, as I have fo-er^ ""^ed
too weak to hold men to the performance of their cov
raJsf there are in man's nature, but two -gin^
helps to strengthen it. And those ^^J «*^;tw or
the consequence of breaking their word , or a glory,
pride in appearing not to need to break it. T^.s latte^ « a
generosity too rarely found to be presumed on, especially
1
\
264
LEVIATHAN
NATURAL LAWS
365
in the pursuers of wealth, command, or sensual pleasure ;
which are the greatest part of mankind. The passion to
be reckoned upon, is fear ; whereof there be two very gen-
eral objects : one, the power of spirits invisible ; the other,
the power of those men they shall therein offend. Of these
two, though the former be the greater power, yet the fear
of the latter is commonly the greater fear. The fear of
the former is in every man, his own religion : which hath
place in the nature of man before civil society. The
latter hath not so ; at least not place enough, to keep men
to their promises ; because in the condition of mere nature,
the inecjuality of power is not discerned, but by the event
of battle. So that before the time of civil society, or in the
interruption thereof by war, there is nothing can strength-
en a covenant of peace agreed on, against the temptations
of avarice, ambition, lust, or other strong desire, but
the fear of that invisible power, which they every one wor-
ship as God ; and fear as a revenger of their perfidy. All
therefore that can be done between two men not subject
to civil power, is to put one another to swear by the God
he feareth : which swearing, o r oath, J s a form of speech,
added to a promise; hy which he that promiseth, signi/ieth,
that unless he perform, he renounceth the mercy of his
God, or calleth to him for vengeance on himself. Such was
the heathen form, Let Jupiter kill me else, as I kill this
beast. So is our form , / shall do thus, and tl^ u,^ sn hplp
jmGvd, And this, with the rites and ceremonies, which
every one useth in his own religion, that the fear of break-
ing faith might be the greater.
By this it appears, that an oath taken according to any
other form, or rite, than his, that sweareth, is in vain;
and no oath : and that there is no swearing by any thing
which the swearer thinks not God. For though men have
sometimes used to swear by their kings, for fear, or flat-
t.rv vet they would have it thereby understood, they at-
K :t^d to them divine honour. And that swearmg un.
t^Z T^l is but prophaning of his name : and
:S W «h„ thing, as ""f '" ^■";'^"^"7»
is not swearing, but an impious custom, gotten y
much vehemence of talking^ ^ ^^ ^^^
PAKALLEL CHAPTER FROM
PHILOSOPHICAL RUDIMENTS CONCERNING
GOVERNMENT.
CHAPTER n.
OP THE LAW OP NATURE CONCERKING CONTRACTS
,. A., authors agree not conc™^^^^^^^
-T/tS\et^n"Xf rtt;s.%he Uod there-
use of this term m definitions and exclusion of
fore wherein we begin from denn ^^
all equivocation, is only proper o ^he- wh^ ^^„ 3,^
place for contrary disputes^ F the res^, ^^ J^^^^^ ^^
that somewhat IS done ag ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^_
^'T '' "rnfof Sthe most wise and learned nations:
eral agreement of all tne ^^^ ^,g.
but this declares not who sh^H be the J^ J^ ^^^^^^ ^^^^
it was done against the general co ^ ^j^^^
„„oh *«»»»';»;»„•;»: Sm™";;? MS, .0 of-
it were impossible for any du ^^^.^^ ^j
fend against such a law for sure, und ^.^^
mankind, they comprehend all men actua y
366
LEVIATHAN
NATURAL LAWS
267
reason. These therefore either do naught against it,
or if they do aught, it is without their own consent, and
therefore ought to be excused. But to receive the laws
of nature from the consents of them who oftener break
than observe them, is in truth unreasonable. Besides,
men condemn the same things in others, which they ap-
prove in themselves ; on the other side, they publicly com-
mend what they privately condemn; and they deliver
their opinions more by hearsay, than any speculation of
their own ; and they accord more through hatred of some
object, through fear, hope, love, or some other pertur-
bation of mind, than true reason. And therefore it
comes to pass, that whole bodies of people often do those
things with the greatest imanimity and earnestness,
which those writers most willingly acknowledge to be
against the law of nature. But since all do grant, that is
done by right, which is not done against reason, we
ought to judge those actions only wrong, which are re-
pugnant to right reason, that is, which contradict some
certain truth collected by right reasoning from true prin-
ciples. But that which is done wrong, we say it is done
against some law. Therefore true reason is a certain law;
which, since it is no less a part of human nature, than
any other faculty or affection of the mind, is also termed
natural. Therefore the law of nature^ hsit I may define
it, is the dictate of right reason, * conve rsant about those
* Right reason.] By right reason in the natural state of men,
I understand not, as many do, an infallible faculty, but the act
of reasoning, that is, the peculiar and true ratiocination of every
man concerning those actions of his, which may either redound
to the damage or benefit of his neighbbours. I call it peculiar,
because although in a civil government the reason of the supreme,
that is, the civil law, is to be received by each single subject for
the right; yet being without this civil government, in which
state no man can know right reason from false, but by comparing
it with his own, every man's own reason is to be accounted, not
.t,;. ff. which are either_to b. done or ^'"ed -^^
^, ,. pr...rvation -^ife and memberr ^TSiSch as
'" " 'St the first and fundamental law of nature j that I ^
peace is to be sought after, u-here it may befoun^ ^ni Y^
where not. there to provide ourselves for helps of war.
For we showed in the last article of the foregoing chap-
S hat thTprecept is the dictate of right reason- bu
hat the dictates of right reason, are -tural law . *at
hath been newly proved above. But this is the first
because the rest are derived from this, and they direct
the ways either to peace or self-defence.
, But one of the natural laws derived from this
fundamental one is this : that the right of all men to ad y
Sr S. -' ^0 be retailed; but tUt s - ..w^ tir.f. rm lTfirst perfor^ ^becaussJHgls^
[^SnirrStni?^ non-performance, ceaseth.
*Arise.] For. except there ^PPe" some new cause of ^ fe^r,
dl^^^^^^ r.^mcrIo^:SSe the b^reach of it.
being made.
272
LEVIATHAN
1
12. But from this reason, that in all free gifts and
compacts there is an acceptance of the conveyance of
right required : it follows that no man can compact with
him who doth not declare his acceptance. And therefore
we cannot compact with beasts, neither can we give or take
from them any manner of right, by reason of their want
of speech and understanding. Neither can any man cov-
enant with God, or be obliged to him by vow ; except so
far forth as it appears to him by Holy Scriptures, that he
hath substituted certain men who have authority to accept
of such-like vows and covenants, as being in God's stead.
13. Those therefore do vow in vain, who are in the
state of nature, where they are not tied by any civil law,
except, by most certain revelation, the will of God to
accept their vow or pact, be made known to them. For
if what they vow be contrary to the law of nature, they
are not tied by their vow ; for no man is tied to perfor m
an unlawful a ct. But if what is vowed, be commanded by
some law of nature, it is not their vow, but the law
itself which ties them. But if he were free, before his
vow, either to do it or not do it, his liberty remains;
because that the openly declared will of the obligor is
requisite to make an obligation by vow; which, in the
case propounded, is supposed not to be. Now I call him
the^obligor, to whom any one is tied; and t he obliged^
him who is tied.
14. Covenants are made of such things only as fall un-
der our deliberation. For it can be no covenant without
the will of the contractor. But the will is the last act of
him who deliberates ; wherefore they only concern things
possible and to come. No man, therefore, by his compact
obligeth himself to an impossibility. But yet, though we
often covenant to do such things as then seem possible
when we promised them, which yet afterward appear to
NATURAL LAWS
?73
,e impossible, are we not therefore^-^ from ^l^oblig-
a future, m certamty receives a p ^^^
dition that he "Wm another fo^ „piy before it for its
performs the Pjes-^^/":^^;*^^^^^^^ with the thing
obiect V^^^J-^t^Sf not simply, but with con-
promised ; but the tnmg ^j^^
dition if it could be done. .^^ 'J ™^ .j^^ he must
even this should ^X\rS^lnJs'tl..reior.. oblige
I perform as much as he can. ^ covenanted for.
U"d .!»• t, fr^Cl --"- .0. by W*f »
to whom the gift « made. compacts extorted
16. It is a usual q"«=f °": ™"„ot For example,
from us through fear, do obhge or not. ^ ^^^^^^ ^
if. to redeem -J "^^f^/dly^ that I will do no
promise to pay hmi ^°?-"?''' /'bring him to justice:
act whereby to apprehend and D g ^
whether I am tied to ^e^^rb, Tudged to be of no
such a promise must sometm j .^ ^^^^^.
effect, yet it is not to be -— ^ ^ ^^^
eth from fear For then t wo ^^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^,
ises which reduced me^.^^ a <: ^^^^. ^^^^
I were made, might likewise oe u ^^^
,;gcdsJt om frar ftf mutua ^y^T l^j he should
S^msejnojhejon^^ '
174
LEVIATHAN
play the fool finely, who should trust his captive cov-
enanting with the price of his redemption. It holds uni-
versally true, that promises do oblige, when there is some
benefit received, and when the promise, and the thing
promised, be lawful. But it is lawful, for the redemption
of my life, both to promise and to give what I will of
mine own to any man, even to a thief. We are obliged,
therefore, by promises proceeding from fear, except the
civil law forbid them; by virtue whereof, that which is
promised becomes unlawful.
17. Whosoever shall contract with one to do or omit
somewhat, and shall after covenant the contrary with an-
other, he maketh not the former, but the latter contract
unlawful. For he hath no longer right to do or to omit
aught, who by former contracts hath conveyed it to an-
other. Wherefore he can convey no right by latter con-
tracts, and what is promised is promised without right.
He is therefore tied only to his first contract, to break
which is unlawful.
18. No man is obliged by any contracts whatsoever not
to resist him who shall oiTer to kill, wound, or any other
way hurt his body. For there is in every man a certain
high degree of fear, through which he apprehends that
evil which is done to him to be the greatest; and there-
fore by natural necessity he shuns it all he can, and it is
supposed he can do no otherwise. When a man is ar-
rived to this degree of fear, we cannot expect but he will
provide for himself either by flight or fight. Since there-
fore no man is tied to impossibilities, they who are'
threatened either with death, (which is the greatest evil
to nature), or wounds, or some other bodily
hurts, and are not stout enough to bear them,
are not obliged to endure them. Furthermore, he
that is tied by contract is trusted; for faith
NATURAL LAWS
275
, • fhe bond of contracts ; but they who are
S2li^~^ t^^ ?Q^ ; either capit al or more gentle, arc
brought to punishment, f^^'^^ ^^^, certain sign
fettered or strongly g^^^^^^^ ^^^^ ^,,.,esist-
that they seemed not ~/^^^^ ^^ j promise thus:
ance by their contracts. It is one W' ^ P ^^^^^^r
H I do it not at the f JP^^^^^ offer to
thing, if thus: If I do !Y^'i^'^^^^ J „,ed be, contract
,iU me, I will not t.s.t A^ --^^^j^^^ ^,,3 second
the first way, ^^.^^^^^^^^^^ For in the mere
way, none; neither is it e^er n .^^^^^
state of nature, if you have a mmd t^^^^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^, ,,^st
a^ords you ^^'^^'^\; '^^^^^^ kill him.
him, if for a breach of trust >ou ^ ^^^ ^^^^^
But in a civil state, ^^^f^^^^;^;^^^^^^^ the supreme,
and of all corporal punishmen is with t v
,„« same *• °' ^fSTlp^i:^— < cit^c.
'''''. '^'^ZJ^X^o %^ to his punishment; but
with any man P^^^^^^^ "? ; ^^^^^^ others from him.
only this, that -^^^^^^l^^^^^^ two realms, there
Tf in the state of ^f ^^^^^^^^^^^ of killing if it
should a contract be made on ^^^^ con-
were not performed, we ^^^^^ P^^^^^^^^^^^^ wherefore
,„„„,„„ '<»;jj^f4- *;S«. *' Hgh. o. war
on that day, if ^^^^f^^^ 5" f -^ ^hich all things are
returns, that is a hostile ^^f^'^J" lastly, by the
lawful, and ^^^^^^ ^^^ of tJo evils to
contract of not resisting, we r.„ter For certain
make choice of that whu:h seem the ^eate • .^ .^
death is a greater evil ^^^^f^^' |;\th a compact.
;Se r LrbVtJrt ^mpLsibilities; which
^.y to the very J^^^^^^;^,,. ^...o..-
276
LEVIATHAN
is like to procure himself a bitter life. Wherefore neither
is a father obliged to bear witness against his &on, nor
a husband against his wife, nor a son against his father,
nor any man against any one by whose means he hath his
subsistence; for in vain is that testimony which is pre-
sumed to be corrupted from nature. But although no
man be tied to accuse himself by any compact, yet in a
public trial he may by torture be forced to make answer.
But such answers are no testimony of the fact, but helps
for the searching out of truth ; so that whether the party
tortured his answer to be true or false, or whether he
answer not at all, whatsoever he doth, h» doth it by
right.
120. Swearing is a speech joined to a promise, whereby
the promisor declares his renouncing of God's mercy,
unless he perform his word. Which definition is con-
tained in the words themselves, which have in
them the very essence of an oath, to wit, so
God help me, or other equivalent, as with the
Romans, do thou Jupiter so destroy the deceiver^
as I slay this same beast. Neither is this any let,
but that an oath may as well sometimes be affirmatory as
promissory; for he that confirms his affirmation with an
oath, promiseth that he speaks truth. But though in some
places it was the fashion for subjects to swear by their
kings, that custom took its original hence, that those kings
took upon them divine honour. For oaths were therefore
introduced, that by religion and consideration of the
divine power, men might have a greater dread of break-
ing their faiths, than that wherewith they fear men,
from whose eyes their actions may lie hid.
21. Whence it follows that an oath must be conceived
in that form, which he useth who takes it; for in vain
is any man brought to swear by a God whom he believes
NATURAL LAWS
277
no. and ^^^r.^^r^^-J^^^t ^t ";-> ''^ ™ ,. ^ h^ in any other
yet no man th-ks he s to > ^^^^ .^ ^^^,^^,^ i„
fashion, or by any other name, ^^^^^
the precepts of his own proper, that ,s (as
imagines) the true rehgion understand
^^ v^r ihe definition 01 an oatn, wc ma^
22. by tne. aemui ^^ ^^^^^i
tl-t a bare contr^<= ;^l>f J^ "^^^^^^^^^ ^,.^, ,,„,,
we are sworn. For ^^ • „„„ichment which it could
,,e oath relates 1^^^'^^^'^^^ "^ ^" ^^^^
"1 'TJl b^ it i -t be unlawful, if the contract
unlawful , butit CO ^^^^^ j,, ^hat renounceth
were not o^'^^^- J ^ i,i„,self not to any pun.sh-
the mercy of God, W^ deprecate the pumsh-
ment; because it is ever lawful to v ^^^^^
ment. howsoever P-f ;^^; ^^^t tSore of an oath
if it be granted The onjy effect .^^^.^^^ ^^
is this; to cause "e"' ^^ f^ . fear of punishment
break all manner of '^'!^'^'°''^JZrds Ld actions.
to make the more ^--^^^^^^X Zl^cl. of contract.
23. To exact an o^th where the ^^^^^ ^^
if any be made cannot bu^^ 7;^;,, ,, punish, is
party compacted ^'^^^^ J^f^'^^^ssary unto self-defense,
to do somewhat more *an '«J<=«^^ J ^^ ^^^efit itself,
and shews a mind de«»'°"^ "^^° ^"^ out of the very
as to P-i-»s. erformance of covenant . And whatsoever is
not unjust, is just.
But because covenants of mutual trust, where there
is a fear of not performance on either part, as hath been
said in the former chapter, are invalid ; though the original
of justice be the making of covenants ; yet injustice act-
ually there can be none, till the cause of such fear be taken
away; which while men are in the natural condition of
war, cannot be done. Therefore before the names of
just, and unjust can have place, there must be some co-
ercive power, to compel men equally to the performance of
their covenants, by the terror of some punishment, greater
than the benefit they expect by the breach of their cov-
enant ; and to make good that propriety, which by mutual
contract men acquire, in recompense of the universal right
they abandon: and such power there is none before the
erection of a commonwealth. And this is ^^^^^^'^l
ered out of the ordinary ^^ ^^ ^, Zll of
Schools: for they say that i«^''" « '"/^^^^ ^^ere there
giving to ez'cry man h,s "«'«• ^^"^ ^^o ^ustice; and
is no own, that is no P^OP"^*^' *f " *' "° ^^ere th^re is
where is no coersive power erected, that *«' ^J!' ^
To commonwealth, there is no P-P^J^ f ^^^
• uf tf^ nil things • therefore w here there is_n o_£gmtiaa*
nght to all thmgs. tn . "■ go that^hTnature of
w£5WUi!S£^;;f^^;J^ covenants : but the
ustice, consisteth m keep"'^ °; .^ ^y^^ constitution
validity of covenants begins not but wUh tn
of a civil power, sufficient to compel men to keep tn
and then it is also that F0P;i^tyj;^S^^^^^^ ^^ „, ,,,^ thing
allegmg, that every mau reason,
being committed to h.s o^^ ^^^^^^^^..^ ,,„,,eed
why every man might not qo
commonwealth, and P"' '" ^"""furity for any of them that so
of coercion, are no reasonable secur y ^^^ ^j,,, ,„ ^^
covenant, nor are to b' {j^l'-l ^^f ^X the wills of most men
estate of nature ?n f"^j^,;" who otherwise would
of those covenants ^^ereby 'h^jest vf"^ ,^^_ i,„t ^'^"'^^'Z
keep them are set a„Vin«don*»»**consisteth in the transferring
wives This power of coercion ^;^. ^ 1^;^ ^ whom he hath
of every man^s right of ':«;f/,^f<;%"?oUoweth therefore, that
transferred the power of coercion it ^^ ^^5,34
no man in any <:o"}"'0"*"''*'i,ave tranlfe^red this power coer-
him, or them, to whom they have tra ^^^.^^ supposmg
cive or (as men use to call it) the^sw ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^
the not-resistance possible. Also aoove v s-*
28o
LEVIATHAN
there be covenants ; and that they are sometimes broken,
sometimes kept; and that such breach of them may
be called injustice, and the observance of them jus-
tice: but he questioneth, whether injustice, taking
away the fear of God, for the same fool hath
said in his heart there is no God, may not sometimes
stand with that reason, which dictateth to every man his
own good; and particularly then, when it conduceth to
such a benefit, as shall put a man in a condition, to neglect
not only the dispraise, and revilings, but also the power
of other men. The kingdom of God is gotten by violence :
but what if it could be gotten by unjust violence? were
it against reason so to get it, when it is impossible to re-
ceive hurt by it? and if it be not against reason, it is not
against justice; or else justice is not to be approved for
good. From such reasoning as this, successful wicked-
ness hath obtained the name of virtue : and some that in
all other things have disallowed the violation of faith;
yet have allowed it, when it is for the getting of a king-
dom. And the heathen that believed, that Saturn was de-
posed by his son Jupiter, believed nevertheless the same
Jupiter to be the avenger of injustice : somewhat like to
a piece of law in Coke's Commentaries on Littleton;
where he says, if the right heir of the crown be attainted
of treason; yet the crown shall descend to him, and
CO instante the attainder be void : from which instances a
man will be very prone to infer ; that when the heir ap-
parent of a kingdom, shall kill him that is in possession,
though his father; you may call it injustice, or by what
other name you will ; yet it can never be against reason,
seeing all the voluntary actions of men tend to the bene-
fit of themselves ; and those actions are most reasonable,
that conduce most to their ends. This specious reasoning
is nevertheless false.
LAWS OF NATURE
281
For the question is not of ^^or^^^l^-^'J^^l
power to make him ^^l^^ l^ZTiSt^^t of the
it be against reason, that is agamst ^^^_
other to perform, or not And I say it is no g
«nn For the manifestation whereof, we are to co ,
son. for tnc lua notwithstand-
first, that when a man doth a thing, wmc , .j^ ^
ing anything can be foreseen, and reckoned o"- ^ende* to
mmmM
ror of them that receive him , nor wnen uc
retaLd in it, without seeing the danger of their error
wS errors k man cannot reasonably reckon uj^n as h
means of his security: »«V , f ie Uve ii^^s^ty, it
nor' reckon upon; and consequently against the reason
^l
7M2
LEVIATHAN
of his preservation ; and so, as all men that contribute not
to his destruction, forbear him only out of ignorance of
what is good for themselves.
A s for the instance of gaining the secure and perpe t-
ual felicitv of heaven, by any way ; it is frivolous : there
Eemjnnir&ne wafitnagir^b ll^ ; P"^ ^hat k not breakmg.
but keeping of covenant .
And for the other instance of attaining sovereignty
by rebellion ; it is manifest, that though the event follow,
yet because it cannot reasonably be expected, but rather
the contrary; and because by gaining it so, others are
taught to gain the same in like manner, the attempt there-
of is against reason. Justice therefore, that is to say,
keeping of covenant, is a rule of reason, by which we are
forbidden to do any thing destructive to our life ; and con-
sequently a law of nature.
There be some that proceed further ; and will not have
the law of nature, to be those rules which conduce to the
preservation of man's life on earth ; but to the attaining
of an eternal felicity after death ; to which they think the
breach of covenant may conduce ; and consequently be just
and reasonable ; such are they that think it a work of merit
to kill, or depose, or rebel against, the sovereign power
constituted over them by their own consent. But because
there is no natural knowledge of man's estate after death ;
much less of the reward that is then to be given to breach
of faith; but only a belief grounded upon other men's
saying, that they know it supernaturally, or that they
know those, that knew them, that knew others, that knew
it supernaturally ; breach of faith cannot be called a pre-
cept of reason, or nature.
Others, that allow for a law of nature, the keeping
of faith, do nevertheless make exception of certain per-
sons; as heretics, and such as use not to perform their
LAWS OF NATURE
J83
covenant to others : and this also is against reason. For
if any fault of a man, be sufficient to discharge our coven-
ant made ; the same ought in reason to have been sufficient
to have hindered the making of it.
The names of just, and unjust, when they are at-
tributed to men, signify one thing ; and when they are at-
tributed to actions, another. When they are attributed to
men, they signify conformity, or inconformity of manners,
to reason. But when they are attributed to actions, they
signify the conformity, or inconformity to reason, not of
manners, or manner of life, but of particular actions.
A just man therefore, is he that taketh all the care he can,
that his actions may be all just: and an unjust man, is he
that neglecteth it. And such men are more often in our
language styled by the names of righteous, and unright-
eous ; than just, and unjust ; though the meaning be the
same. Therefore a righteous man, does not lose that title,
by one, or a few unjust actions, that proceed from sudden
passion, or mistake of things, or persons: nor does an
unrighteous man, lose his character, for such actions, as
he does, or forbears to do, for fear: because his will is
not framed by the justice, but by the apparent benefit of
what he is to do. That which gives to human actions the
relish of justice, is a certain nobleness or gallantness of
courage, rarely found, by which a man scorns to be be-
holden for the contentment of his life, to fraud, or breach
of promise. This justice of the manners, is that which is
meant, where justice is called a virtue ; and injustice a
vice.
But the justice of actions denominates men, not jUSt,
but guiltless; and the injustice of the same, which is also
called injurv, gives them but the name oigmlty^
Again, the injustice of manners, is tKTHisposition, or
aptitude to do injury ; and is injustice before it proceed to
'< . V
284
LEVIATHAy
LAWS OF NATURE
285
tct; and without supposing any individual person injured.
But the injustice of an action, that is to say injury, sup-
poseth an individual person injured ; namely him, to whom
the covenant was made: and therefore many times the
injury is received by one man, when the damage redound-
cth to another. As when the master commandeth his serv-
ant to give money to a stranger ; if it be not done, the in-
jury is done to the master, whom he had before coven-
anted to obev ; but the damage redoundeth to the stranger,
to whom he had no obligation ; and therefore could not
injure him. And so also in commonwealths, private men
may remit to one another their debts ; but not robberies or
other violences, whereby they are endamaged ; because the
detaining of debt, is an injury to themselves; but robbery
and violence, are injuries to the person of the common-
wealth. [
Whatsoever is done, to a man, conformable to his own
will signified to the doer, is no injury to him. For if he
that doeth it, hath not passed away his original right to
do what he please, by some antecedent covenant, there is
no breach of covenant; and therefore no injury done him.
And if he have ; then his will to have it done being signi-
fied, is a release of that covenant : and so again there is no
injury done him.
Justice of actions, is by writers divided into commu-
tative, and distributive: and the former they say consist-
eth in proportion arithmetical; the latter in proportion
geometrical. Commutative therefore, they place in the
equality of value of the things contracted for ; and dis-
tributive, in the distribution of equal benefit, to men of
equal merit. As if it were injustice to sell dearer than we
buy ; or to give more to a man than he merits. The value
of ail things contracted for, is measured by the appetite of
the contractors : and therefore the just value, is that which
they be contented to give. And merit, besides that wWch
pounded, is not right. To «P^\P'°P!' ^'.f "^,2^^!
Lstice is the justice, of a contractor; that is, a perform
Tc oVcolen nt, in buying, and selling; hirmg and le^
Sg to hire; lending, and borrowing; exchanging, barter-
-A^^ dSur iSSe justice of an arbiter;
\h^fh to sav the act of defining what is just. Wherein,
Entrusted by them that make him arbitrator, if he
:reMhtuthimp;::Vdistribu^^^^
properly equity; which also is a law of nature, as
^ tHuX^Sh on antecedent cov^ant; so does
^^^r^ift-aStrfSirjirat:^
whch may be conceived in this form, that a man^h^h
ttl leneat from anoiker of --^^^'^XtZeZ
that he which giveth it, have no reasonable ^^^J^J^'^l
him of his Stood will. For no man giveth, but with in
fention of go^d to himself ; because gift is voluntary ; and
of aU voluntary acts, the object is to every man his own
Id oV which if men see they shall be f-strated, Ae-
lill be no beginning of benevolence, or t-t; nor conse-
quently of mutual help; nor of reconciliation of one man
to another ; and therefore they are to remain still m the
cond^ion of war; which is contrary to the fi/stan
286
LEVIATHAN
^
peace. The breach of this law, is called ingratitude; and
hath the same relation to grace, that injustice hath to ob-
ligation by covenant.
A fifth law of nature, is complais ance ; that is to say^
that ever\ man strive to accommodate himself to the rest^
For the understanding whereof, we may consider, that
there is in men's aptness to society, a diversity of nature,
rising from their diversity of affections ; not unlike to that
we see in stones brought together for building of an
edifice. For as that stone which by the asperity, and
irregularity of figure, takes more room from others, than
itself fills ;' and for the hardness, cannot be easily made
plain, and thereby hindereth the building, is by the build-
ers cast away as unprofitable, and troublesome : so also, a
man that by asperity of nature, will strive to retain those
things which to himself are superfluous, and to others nec-
essary ; and for the stubbornness of his passions, cannot be
corrected, is to be left, or cast out of society, as cumber-
some thereunto. For seeing every man, not only by right,
but also by necessity of nature, is supposed to endeavour
all he can, to obtain that which is necessary for his conser-
vation ; he that shall oppose himself against it, for things
superfluous, is guilty of the war that thereupon is to fol-
low; and 'therefore doth that, which is contrary to the
fundamental law of nature, which commandeth to seek
peace. The observers of this law , may j^e called sociable
the Latins call them commodi; thp^rnntrarv stuhhnrM, in-
sociable, froward, intractable,
A sixth law of nature, is this, that upon caution of the
future time, a man ought to pardon the offences past of
them that repenting, desire it. For pardon , is nothing but
granting of peace; which though granted to them that
persevere in their hostility, be not peace, but fear ; yet not
granted to them that give caution of the future time, is
LAWS OF NATURE
^
c^
nsr
sign of an aversion to peace ; and therefore contrary to the
'^"a sn is. tHat in re.en,es. that is. -mbut^H
evil for evil. n.en look not at the f ^f ^^^^^ J .^^^^^^^^
but the greatness of the good to follo^. Whereby we
forbidden to inflict punishment ^ilh any o*er des.gn
than for correction of the offender, or direction of othe«^
For this law is consequent to the next before it that con^
mandeth pardon, upon security of the future t^e Be-
sides revenge without respect to the example, and profat
^ome is a triumph, or glorying in the hurt of another
Iding to no end;, for the end is always somewh t o
come; and glorying to no end. is vam-glory^and ^o W
to reason, and to hurt without reason, tendeth to *e 'utK.
duction of war; which is against the law of nature,
is commonly styled by the name olcnidtil^
And because all signs of hatred or co^^fn?^ provoke
to fight • insomuch as most men choose rather to hazard
It'lif;. than n6t to be revenged ; we may in the ag^
nlace for a law of nature, set down this precept, that no.
tan by deed, word, countenance, or gestur\declare
ZZr contempt of another. The breach of which law.j
is commonly called contumely.
The question who is the better man, has no place 13,
the -^ ^»2;nn of mere nature ; where, as has been shewn
S f " all menarT iiir Jhe inequality that jiovps. l^
SrnrtE^^st book of his PMi^ior a foundation of
his doctrine, maketh men by nature, some -ore worthy
to command, meaning the wiser sort such as he thought
himself to be for his philosophy ; others to serve, mean-
ing those that had strong bodies, but were not phUoso-
ohers as he; as if master and servant were not intro-
duced by consent of men, but by difference of wit: which
NATURAL LAWS
289
288
LEVLA.THAN
%
is not only against reason ; but also against experience.
For there are very few so foolish, that had not rather
govern themselves, than be governed by others: nor when
the wise in their own conceit, contend by force, with them
who distrust their own wisdom, do they always, or often,
or almost at any time, get the victory. If nature therefore
have made men equal, that equality is to be acknowledged :
or if nature have made men unequal ; yet because men that
think themselves equal, will not enter into conditions of
peace but upon equal terms, such equality must be ad-
1 mitted. And therefore for the ninth law of nature, I put
A this, that every man acknowledge another {or his equal by
\nature. The breach of this precept is pride.
On this law, dependeth another, that at the entrance
into conditions of peace, no man require to reserve to
himself any right, which he is not content should be re-
served to every one of the rest. As it is necessary for all
men that seek peace, to lay down certain rights of nature;
that is to say, not to have liberty to do all they list : so
is it necessary for man's Ufe, to reUin some ; as right to
govern their own bodies ; enjoy air, water, motion, ways
to go from place to place ; and all things else, without
which a man cannot live, or not live well. If in this case,
at the making of peace, men require for themselves, that
which they would not have to be granted to others, they do
contrary to the precedent law, that commandeth the
acknowledgment of natural equality, and therefore also
against the law of nature. The observers of this law, are
those we call modest , and the breakers (frroiOOt men.
The Greeks calTthTviolation of this law itXcovt^ia-, that
is, a desire of more than their share.'
•Compare De Corpore Politico, (M.. IV, 103). 'As.twas
necessaS that a man should not retain his right to every thine.
STalso^as U, that he should retain his right to some thmgs:
It
V
®
:Xb:t:.::^^^^^^^^
o'f men cannot be f ^^^f^^J^^'at Chim lies, to deter
^Tnira^inrthi Umental law of nature, is the
cause of war. j^^ ^1 distribution
The observance of this law. iro . ,-__;eth^ him, is
to each man, ol2!l:J;J«!^^S^fSSive jus-
called EgUITY.- ana; asTrtiav ^poaa,r.oX7,M
tice: tET^iSUtion, "f^^'T °^J^ C tfcaf .«cfc things
^ as cannot be d»^f.^' J/ 2hng permit, without sttnt;
. and if the quantty of the ^J^^JJ ,^^ ,;,„, have
otherwise ^''t"''''°.;f,LVdii4^^^^ is ^equal, and con-
right. For otherwise the distnoui
trary to equity. neither be divided.
But some things there be. ^la^^^f ^^ ^^^^^^_ ^^^^^
nor enjoyed in common. Then, tn ^
prescribeth equity, ^'Zfj'lhelst possession, be
else, making ^^^^Z^.^^ri^^.tion. is of the law
oSretnS olr means' of equal distribution cannot be
imagined. arbitrary, and natural.
fhe law of nature command any,°^!*? "fthout the loss of peace.
lK4y which cannot be -^-^^^th^en we -*- into^','*^!
Seeing then many rights are r ^^^^ dictateth, ir no.
h^i^^'^^^^^'^"""" " "'""" ""
man to retain the same.
.^/
290
LEVIATHAN
ors : natural, is either primogeniture, which the Greek calls
xXrjpouopiia, which signifies, given by lot; or Hrst seizure.
And therefore those things which cannot be enjoyed
in common, nor divided ought to be adjudged to the first
possessor ; and in some cases to the first born, as acquired
bv lot.
ilt is also a law of nature, that all men that mediate
peace, be alloived safe conduct. For the law that com-
mandeth peace, a? the end, commandeth intercession, as
the means; and to intercession the means is safe conduct.
And because, though men be never so willing to ob-
serve these laws, there may nevertheless arise questions
concerning a man's action; first, whether it were done,
or not done ; secondly, if done, whether against the law,
or not against the law; the former whereof, is called a
question of fact; the latter a question of right, ihtrtiort
unless the parties to the question, covenant mutually to
stand to the sentence of another, they are as far from
peace as ever. This other to whose sentence they submit
is called an arbitrator. And therefore it is of the law of
nature, that they that are at controversy, submit their
right to the judgment of .an arbitrator.
And seeing every man is presumed to do all things
/ n^5 '^ order to his own benefit, no man is a fit arbitrator in
^5 his own cause; and if he were never so fit; yet equity
allowing to each party equal benefit, if one be admitted
to be judge, the other is to be admitted also ; and so the
controversy, that is, the cause of war, remains, against
the law of nature.
^ For the same reason no man in any cause ought to be
/ -^ jS received for arbitrator, to whom greater profit, or honour,
C^ *y or pleasure apparently ariseth out of the victory of one
party, than of the other : for he hath taken, though an un-
avoidable bribe, yet a bribe ; and no man can be obliged to
i
NATURAL LAWS
291
trust him. And thus also the controversy, and the con-
dition of war remaineth, contrary to the law of nature.
And in a controversy of fact, the judge being to give
more credit to one, than to the other, if there be no
other arguments, must give credit to a third ; or to a third
and fourth ; or more : for else the question is undecided,
and left to force, contrary to the law of nature.
These are the laws of nature, dictating peace, for a 1
means of the conservation of m^iTm multitudes ; and I
which only concern the doctrine of civil society. There
be other things tending to the destruction of particular
f Ml men ; as drunkenness, and all other parts of intemperance ;
which may therefore also be reckoned amongst those
things which the law of nature hath forbidden ; but are
not necessary to be mentioned, nor are pertinent enough
to this place. , , ^. i
And though this may seem too subtle a deduction ot
the laws of nature, to be taken notice of by all men ; where-
of the most part are too busy in getting food, and the rest
too negli gent to understand; yet to leave aU menjnex-
^iicohiP^^t ^have been contracted into c """^
telh^ible even to the mpanest capacity;
no t that to another, zvhich thou would st not have done t±
ihyselfj which sheweth him, that he has no more to do m
learning the laws of nature, but, when weighing the
actions of other men with his own, they seem too heavy,
to put them into the other part of the balance, and his
own into their place, that his own passions, and self-love,
may add nothing to the weight ; and then there is none
of these laws of nature that will not appear unto him
very reasonable.
The laws of nature oblige in foro interna; that is to
say they bind to a desire they should take place: but
in foro externa; that is, to the putting them in act, not
V
LEVIATHAN
NATURAL LAWS
2Q3
always. For he that should be modest, and tractable,
and perform all he promises, in such time, and place,
where no man else should do so, should but make himself
a prey to others, and procure his own certain ruin, con-
trary to the ground of all laws of nature, which tend to
nature's preservation. And again, he that having suf-
ficient security, that others shall observe the same laws to-
wards him, observes them not himself, seeketh not peace,
but war ; and consequently the destruction of his nature
bv violence.
And whatsoever laAvs bind in foro interno, may be
broken, not only by a fact contrar>' to the law, but also
by a fact according to it, in case a man think it contrary.
For though his action in this case, be according to the
law ; yet his purpose was against the law ; which, where
the obligatior. is in foro inierno, is a breach.
The laws of nature are immutable and eternaU for I'n-
justice, mgratitude, arrogance, pride, iniquity, acception
of persons, and the rest, can never be made lawful. For
it can never be that war shall preserve Hfe, and peace de-
stroy it.'
The same laws, because they oblige only to a desire,
and endeavour, I mean an unfeignec' and constant en-
deavour, are easy to be observed. Foi in that they require
nothing but endeavour, he that endeavoureth their per-
formance, fulfilleth them , and he that f ulfilleth the law,
is just.
And the science of them, is the true and only mora l
"Compare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II. 50). "The
same lav which is natural and moral, is also wont to be called
divine, nor undeservedly ; a* well because reason, which is the law
of nature, is given by God to every man for the rule ot his ac-
tions ; a* because the precepts of living which are thence derived,
arc the same with those which have been delivered from the di-
vine Majesty for the laivs of his heavenly kingdom, by our Lord
"philos ophy >s nothing else but
feidiiiiwH^^
^i^ our appetites, and aversions; which ^n different
tempers, customs, and doctrines of men, are different
and divers men, differ not only in their judgment on the
senses of what is pleasant, and unpleasant to the taste,
smell, hearing, touch, and sight ; but also o what |s c^^^
formable, or disagreeable to reason, m the actions o
common life. Miy, the same man, m divers tini^^ differs
from himself; and one time praiseth, that is, calleth good^
what another time he dispraiseth, and caUeth 7I: from
whence arise disputes, controversies and at last war
And therefore so long as a mPii is m the condition of
mere nature, which is a condition of war as private appe-
tite is the measure of good, and evil : and consequently all
men agree on this, that peace is good, and therefore also
the way, or meansofpeace, which, as I have shewed be-
f(5?r are justice, gratiHTde, modesty, equity, mercy, and
the rest of the laws of nature, are_good ; that is to s^
mora! virtues : and their contrary vices, evil. Now the
s'dSice of virtue and vice, is moral philosophy ; and there-
\fore the true doctrine of the laws of nature is the true
Imoral philosophy. But the writers of moral philosophy,
though they acknowledge the same virtues and vices ; yet
not seeing wherein consisted their goodness; nor that
they come to be praised, as the means of peaceable, soci-
able, and comfortable living, place them in a mediocrity of
passions : as if not the cause, but the degree of danng,
Jesus Christ, and his holy P^2P^?;.^/"^mTv ^224) ^TheVaw
nature. God Almighty ; and the law of God taught Dy our oa
iour Christ, is the moral law.
•Compare above p. i?©* ». I. A ^ ^ T^ ^
294
LEVIATHAN
made fortitude; or not the cause, but the quantity of a
gift, made liberality.
These dictates of reason, men used to call by the name
of laws, but improperly: for they are but conclusions,
or theorems concerning what conduceth to the conser-
vation and defence of themselves ; whereas law, properly,
is the word of him, that by right hath command over
others. But vet if we consider the same theorems, as
delivered in the word of God, that by right commandeth
all things; then are they properly calledl' laws.
PARALLEL CHAPTER FROM
PHILOSOPHICAL RUDIMENTS CONCERNING
GOVERNMENT.
CHAPTER III.
OF THE OTHER LAWS OF NATURE.
y^^l. Another of the laws of nature is, to perform con-
tracts, or to keep trust. For it hath been showed in the
foregoing chapter, that the law of nature commands
every man, as a thing necessary, to obtain peace, to con-
vey certain rights from each to other; and that this, as
often as it shall happen to be done, is called a contract.
But this is so far forth only conducible to peace, as we
shall perform ourselves what we contract with others
shall be done or omitted ; and in vain would contracts be
made, unless we stood to them. Because therefore to
stand to our covenants, or to keep faith, is a thing neces-
sary for the obtaining of peace; it will prove, by the
second article of the second chapter, to be a precept of the
natural law.
2. Neither is there in this matter any exception of the
persons with whom we contract ; as if they keep no faith
with others, or hold that none ought to be kept, or are
LAWS OF NATURE
»95
guilty of any other kind of vice. For he that contracts,
in that he doth contract, denies that action to be in vain ;
and it is against reason for a knowing man to do a thing
in vain ; and if he think himself not bound to keep it, in
thinking so he affirms the contract to be made in vain.
He therefore who contracts with one with whom he
thinks he is not bound to keep faith, he doth at once
think a contract to be a thing done in vain, and not in
vain; which is absurd. Either therefore we must hold
trust with all men, or else not bargain with them ; that is,
either there must be a declared war, or a sure and faith-
ful peace.
3. The breaking of a bargain, as also the taking back
of a gift, (which ever consists in some action or omis-
sion), is called an injury. But that action or omission
is called unjust; insomuch as an injury, and an unjust
action or omission, signify the same thing, and both
are the same with breach of contract and trust. And
it seems the word injury came to be given to any action
or omission, because they were without right; he that
acted or omitted, having before conveyed his right to
some other. And there is some likeness between that
which in the common course of life we call injury, and
that which in the Schools is usually called absurd. For
even as he who by arguments is driven to deny the as-
sertion which he first maintained, is said to be brought to
an absurdity ; in like manner, he who through weakness
of mind does or omits that which before he had by
contract promised not to do or omit, commits an injury,
and falls into no less contradiction than he who in the
Schools is reduced to an absurdity. For by contract-
ing for some future action, he wills it done ; by not domg
it, he wills it not done : which is to will a thing done and
not done at the same time, which is a contradiction.
296
LEVIATHAN
An injury therefore is a kind of absurdity in conver-
sation, as an absurdity is a kind of injury in disputation.
4. From these grounds it follows, that an injury can
be done to no man* but him with whom we enter coven-
ant, or to whom somewhat is made over by deed of gift,
or to whom somewhat is promised by way of bargain.
And therefore damaging and injuring are often disjoin-
ed. For if a master command his servant, who hath
promised to obey him, to pay a sum of money, or carry
some present to a third man ; the servant, if he do it not,
hath indeed damaged this third party, but he injured
his master only. So also in a civil government, if any
man offend another with whom he hath made no contract,
he damages him to whom the evil is done; but he injures
none but him to whom the power of government be-
longs. For if he who receives the hurt should expos-
tulate the mischief, he that did it should answer thus:
what art thou to me; why should I rather do according
to your than mine own will, since I do not hinder but
you may do your own, and not my mind? In which
speech, where there hath no manner of pre-contract
passed, I see not, I confess, what is reprehensible.
5. These words, just and unjust, as also justice and
*Injury can be done to no man, &€.] The word injustice re-
lates to some law : injury, to some person, as well as some law.
For what is unjust, is unjust to all; but there may an injury be
done, and yet not against me, nor thee, but some other; and
sometimes against no private person, but the magistrate only;
sometimes also neither against the magistrate, nor any private
man, but only against God. For through contract and conveyance
of right, we say, that an injury is done against this or that man.
Hence it is, which we see in all kind of government, that what
private men contract between themselves by word or writing,
is released again at the will of the obligor. But those mischiefs
which are done against the laws of the land, as theft, homicide,
and the like, are punished, not as he wills to whom the hurt is
done, but according to the will of the magistrate; that is. the
constituted laws.
LAWS OF NATURE
297
inmtice. are equivocal ; for they signify one thing when
Aey a^e attributed to persons, another when to nxttons
When thev are attributed to actions, ,ust signifies as
Ich as what is done with right, and un,ust, as what .s
Tne with iniury. He who hath done some just hmg.
is not therefore said to be a just person, but gmltless
and he that hath done some unjust thing, we do not
Aerete say he is an unjust, but ^iy man Bu wh^ .
the words are appUed to persons, to he ,ust signifies as
m^ch as to be delighted in just dealing, to s^dy how to
do righteousness, or to endeavour m all thmgs to do
that Ihich is just; and to be unjust is to neglect right-
eous dealing, or to think it is to be measured no^ ac-
cordine to my contract, but some present benefit, bo as
he justice or injustice of the mind, the intention,
or the mal is oni thing, that of an action or omission
another; and innumerable actions of a jus^ man may
be unjust, and of an unjust man just Jut fat man
is to be accounted just, who doth just thmgs because
;L law commands it. unjust tHmg-"^^^^^ ^J^
his infirmity ; and he is properly said to ^e unjus^^ w
doth righteousness for fear of the V^^'^^^fJ"?^^,
unto the law. and unrighteousness by reason of the m
'"I'TL'^justiS'of actions is commonly distinguished
into t Jo kiid; commutative and distributive yhej™
298
LEVIATHAN
is more worthy, and less to him that deserves less, and
that proportionably ; hence, they say, ariseth distributive
justice. I acknowledge here some certain distinction of
equality : to wit, that one is an equality simply so called ;
as when two things of equal value are compared together,
as a pound of silver with twelve ounces of the same
silver : the other is an equality secundum quod; as when
a thousand pounds is to be divided to a hundred men,
six hundred pounds are given to sixty men, and four
hundred to forty, where there is no equality between
six hundred and four hundred; but when it happens
that there is the same inequality in the number of them
to whom •it is distributed, every one of them shall take
an equal part, whence it is called an equal distribution.
But such like equality is the same thing with geomet-
rical proportion. But what is all this to justice? For
neither if I sell my goods for as much as I can get for
them, do I injure the buyer, who sought and desired
them of me; neither if I divide more of what is mine
to him who deserves less, so long as I give the other
what I have agreed for, do I wrong to either. Which
truth our Saviour himself, being God, testifies in the
Gospel. This therefore is no distihction of justice, but of
equality. Yet perhaps it cannot be denied but that jus-
tice is a certain equality, as consisting in this only; that
since we are all equal by nature, one should not arrogate
more right to himself than he grants to another, unless
he have fairly gotten it by compact. And let this suf-
fice to be spoken against this distinction of justice, al-
though now almost generally received by all; lest any
man should conceive an injury to be somewhat else
than the breach of faith or contract, as hath been de-
fined above.
7. It is an old saying, volenti non fit injuria, the
LAWS OF NATURE
199
willing man receives no injury ; yet the truth of it may
be derived from our principles. For grant that a man be
willing that that should be done which he conceives to
be an injury to him; why then, that is done by his will,
which by contract was not lawful to be done. But he
being willing that should be done which was not law-
ful by contract, the contract itself (by the fifteendi art-
icle of the foregoing chapter) becomes void. The right
therefore of doing it returns ; therefore it is done by
right; wherefore it is no injury.
8. The third precept of the natural law is, that you
suffer not him to be the worse for you, who, out of the
confidence he had in you, first did you a good turn; or
that you accept not a gift, but with a mind to endeavour
that the giver shall have no just occasion to repent htm
of his gift. For without this, he should act without rea-
son, that would confer a benefit where he sees it would be
lost- and by this means all beneficence and trust, to-
gether with all kind of benevolence, would be taken from
among men, neither would there be aught of mutual
assistance among them, nor any commencement of gam-
ing grace and favour; by reason whereof the state of war
would necessarily remain, contrary to the fundamental
law of nature. But because the breach of this law is not
a breach of trust or contract, (for we suppose no con-
tracts to have passed among them), therefore is it nc^
usually termed an injury; but because good turns and
thanks have a mutual eye to each other, it is calld in-
gratitude.
9 The fourth precept of nature is, that every man
render himself useful unto others: which that we may
rightly understand, we must remember that there is m
men a diversity of dispositions to enter into society,
arising from the diversity of their affections, not unlike
A^
'I
302
LEVIATHAN
be more frequent than the scoffs and jeers of the power-
ful against the weak, and namely, of judges against
guilty persons, which neither relate to the offense of the
guilty, nor the duty of the judges ; yet these kind of men
do act against the law of nature, and are to be esteemed
for contumelious.
13. The question whether of two men be the more wor-
thy, belongs not to the natural, but civil state. For it hath
been showed before (Chap. i. Art. 3) that all men by
nature are equal ; and therefore the inequality which now
is, suppose from riches, power, nobility of kindred, is
come from the civil law. I know that Aristotle, in his
first book of Politics, affirms as a foundation of the whole
political science, that some men by nature are made wor-
thy to command, others only to serve; as if lord and
servant were distinguished not by consent of men, but by
an aptness, that is, a certain kind of natural knowledge or
ignorance. Which foundation is not only against reason,
(as but now hath been showed), but also against expe-
rience. For neither almost is any man so dull of under-
standing as not to judge it better to be ruled by himself,
than to yield himself to the government of another ; nei-
ther if the wiser and stronger do contest, have these
always or often the upper hand of those. Whether there-
fore men be equal by nature, the equality is to be acknowl-
edged: or whether imequal, because they are like to
contest for dominion, it is necessary for the obtaining
of peace, that they be esteemed as equal; and therefore
it is in the e ighth plac e a precept of the law of nature,
that every man be accounted by nature equal to another;
the contrary to which law is pride.
14. As it was necessary to the conservation of each
man that he should part with some of his rights, so it is
no less necessary to the same conservation that he retain
LAWS OF NATURE
3P3
some others, to wit. the right of bodily protectton of
re" enjoyment of air, water, and all necessaries for hfe^
Since therefore many common rights »>■« /^^f f ^^^^
fhose who enter into a peaceable state, and tha^ many
peculiar ones are also acquired, hence '^"f !* *^^ , ^
Sictate of the natural law, to - \*^7^-^^^^^|ri£e '
as d^ielo all the rest; other^vise he f'"f ^^^^^^.^^ ^
acknowledged-hrtErtormer article, ^or what « 't d^e
to acknowledge an equality of P^^7^ '" /^" '^'ef
up of society, but to attribute equal "g^^* ^"^ pow^r
to those whom no reason would else engage to enter into
society? But to ascribe equal things to eqtuils xs the
me with giving things proportional to proportu>nah^
xTe observ!tion%f this law is -lied -..fenm «^e
violation >:-leove?.'a; the breakers by the Latms are
styled immodici et immodestt.
IS In the tenth place it is commanded by the law of
nature ZZeTiJinn dividing right to others ske^ 1/
iZSf equal to'eitker party. By the foreg^g aw *
are forbidden to assume more nght by "^^ure .0 our
selves, than we grant to others. We may take les^ >«
we will; for that sometimes is an argument of modes^.
But if at any time matter of right be to be divided by
!s unto others, we are forbidden by this law to favour
1:1 or le. than another. For he that b^a^
one before another observes not this natural equahty
reproaches him whom he thus ""dervalu" : but . is
declared ab^ve, that a reproach is «^-f ^^.^^^J.^
nature The observance of this precept is called equity
thrbreach, respect of persons. The Greeks m one word
r 6^ F;rtt:Toregoing law is collected this eleventh
those ■ things which cannot be divided, must be used
u
304
LEVIATHAN
-V
\
'b
toy
in common if they can, and if the quantity of the matter
permit, every man as much as he lists; but if the quan-
tity permit not, then with limitation, and proportion-
ally to the number of the users. For otherwise that
equaHty can by no means be observed, which we have
showed in the foregoing article to be commanded by the
law of nature.
17 Also what cannot be divided nor had in common,
it is provided by the law of nature, which may be the
twelfth precept that the use of that thing be either by
turns, or adjudged to one only by lot; and that in the
using it by turns, it be also decided by lot, who shall
have the first use of it. For here also regard is to be had
unto equality : but no other can be found but that of lot.
18. But all lot is twofold, arbitrary or natural. Ar-
bitrary is that which is cast by the consent of the contend-
ers, and it consists in mere chance, as they say, or fortune.
Natural is primogeniture, in Greek, xX-qpovoiiia, as it
were, given by lot; or first possession. Therefore the
things which can neither be divided nor had in common,
must be granted to the first possessor ; as also those things
which belonged to the father are due to the son, unless
the father himself have formerly conveyed away that
right to some other. Let this therefore stand for the
th irteen th law of nature.
^^' T he fourteenth precep t of the law of nature is,
that safety must be assured to the mediators for peace.
For the reason which commands the end, commands also
the means necessary to the end. But the first dictate of
reason is peace; all the rest are means to obtain it, and
without which peace cannot be had. But neither can
peace be had without mediation, nor mediation without
safety. It is therefore a dictate of reason, that is, a
law of nature, that we must give all security to the medi-
ators for peace.
LAWS OF NATURE
3>S
^ Furthermore because, although men should aj«
,, ,11 thf-Be and whatsoever other laws of nature,
to make all these ana wna ^^^_
sides supposmg themse ves w g t^^^ause in this case
essary to the preservation ^^ J^ff '^^^^^^^^^ ,^^, both
J\.^r fit remedv can possibly be thougnt on, iiww
no other ht remeay ca v j ^^^^^^
therefore the fifteenth precept of the na^^ ^ \^
,ome thtrd ^^^^ ^ ^^^^„ „, judge
,nan must be ,udg^^^ <^^ .„ ^^^ ^^..^teenth
22. From the same gro propounds unto I J
place //»a/ no *";fJ;j;%froI the victory of ' ^
himself any hope of profit or giory /
either part: for the like reason sways here, as m
'"23.'' But when there is some controversy of the fact
il
ml
y6
LEVIATHAN,
LAWS OF NATURE
307
ii>
i\
itself, to wit, whether that be done or not which is said
to be done, the natural law wills that the arbiter trust both
parties alike, that is, because they affirm contradictories,
that he believe neither. He must therefore give credit to
a third, or a third and fourth, or more, that he may be
able to give judgment of the fact, as often as by other
signs he cannot come to the knowledge of it. The eigh-
teenth law of nature therefore enjoins arbiters and judges
of fact, that where firm and certain signs of the fact ap-
pear not, there they rule their sentence by such witnesses
as seem to be indifferent to both parts,
24. From the above declared definition of an arbiter
may be furthermore understood, that no contract or
promise must pass between him and the parties whose
judge he is appointed, by virtue whereof he may be en-
gaged to speak in favour of either part, nay, or be
obliged to judge according to equity, or to pronounce
such sentence as he shall truly judge to be equal. The
judge is indeed bound to give such sentence as he shall
judge to be equal, by the law of nature recounted in the
15th article: to the obligation of which law nothing can
be added by way of compact. Such compact therefore
would be in vain. Besides, if giving wrong judgment
he should contend for the equity of it, except such com-
pact be of no force, the controversy would remain after
judgment given : which is contrary to the constitution of
an arbiter, who is so chosen, as both parties have obliged
themselves to stand to the judgment which he should pro-
nounce. The la w of nat ure therefore (j-n rpm ands the
judge to be disenga^ , wmrh ic xt^ T^ipptPPntTp^pr^pf
25. Furtlieirmore, forasmuch as the laws of nature
are nought else but the dictates of reason ; so as, unless
a man endeavour to preserve the faculty of right reason-
ing, he cannot observe the laws of nature; it is manifest.
that (he who knowingly or willingly doth aught whereby
the mional facultv may be destroyed or weakened, he
knowingly and willingly breaks the law of natureJ For
there is no difference between a man who preforms not
his duty, and him who does such things willingly as make
it impossible for him to do it. But they destroy and
weaken the reasoning faculty, who do that which dis-
turbs the mind from its natural state ; that which most
manifestly happens to drunkards, and gluttons. ^ ^^
therefore sin, in tb^ \yi^i\eth place, against the law_ot,.._
iiature by (drunkenness.
26. Perhaps some man, who sees all these precepts
of nature derived by a certain artifice from the smgle
dictate of reason advising us to look to the preservation
and safeguard of ourselves, will say that the deduction of
these laws is so hard, that it is not to be expected they
will be vulgarly known, and therefore neither will they
prove obliging: for laws, if they be not known, oblige
not nay indeed, are not laws To this 1 answer, it is true,
that hope. fear, anger, ambition, covetousness, vam glory,
and other pertubations of mind, do hinder a man, so as he
cannot attain to the knowledge of these laws whilst those
passions prevail in him : but there is no man who is not
sometimes in a quiet mind. At that time therefore there
is nothing easier for him to know, though he be never so
rude and unlearned, than this only rule, that when he
doubts whether what he is now doing to another may
be done by the law of nature or not, he conceive himself
to be in that others' stead. Here instantly those perturba-
tions which persuaded him to the fact, being now cast
into the other scale, dissuade him as much. And this
rule is not only easy, but is anciently celebrated m these
words, qtwd tihi fien non vis, alteri feceris: do not
that to others, you would not have done to yourself:
ii
308
LEVIATHAN
2T. But because most men, by reason of their per-
verse desire of present profit, are very unapt to observe
these laws, although acknowledged by them ; if perhaps
some, more humble than the rest, should exercise that
€quit> and usefulness which reason dictates, the others
not practising the same, surely they would not follow
reason in so doing : nor would they hereby procure them-
selves peace, but a more certain quick destruction, and
the keepers of the law become a mere prey to the breakers
of it. It is not therefore to be imagined, that by nature,
that is, by reason, men are obliged to the exercise of all
these laws* in that state of men wherein they are not
practiced by others. We are obliged yet, in the interim,
to a readiness of mind to observe them, whensoever their
observation shall seem to conduce to the end for which
they were ordained. We must therefore conclude, that
the law of nature doth always and everywhere oblige in
the internal court, or that of conscience ; but not always in
the external court, but then only when it may be done
with safety.
28. But the laws which oblige conscience, may be
.u- *^^f/-«^^''«>^ of all these laws.] Nay, among these laws some
things there are, the omission whereof, provided it be done for
peace or self-preservation, seems rather to be the fulfilling, than
breach of the natural law. For he that doth all things against
those that do all thmgs, and plunders plunderers, doth equity.
But on the contrary, to do that which in peace is a handsome
action, and becoming an honest man, is dejectedness and poor-
ness of spirit, and a betraying of one's self, in the time of war.
liut there are certain natural laws, whose exercise ceaseth not
even m the time of war itself. For I cannot understand what
drunkenness or cruelty, that is, revenge which respects not the
tuture good^ can advance toward peace, or the preservation of
any man. Briefly, in the state of nature, what is just and unjust,
IS not to be esteemed by the actions but by the counsel and con-
science of the actor. That which is done out of necessity, out
of endeavour for peace, for the preservation of ourselves, is done
with right otherwise every damage done to a man would be a
Dreach of the natural law, and an injury against God
LAWS OF NATURE
309
broken by an act not only contrary to them, but also
L the laws vet his conscience is against them.
J, TheLs of nature are immutable andeterruO-
„,, U so divenified by circumslances and the ™lji».
Zt «h.Ti. don. with «,.ity « on. tin... ; e"^"'^
- t'°?i'ShT=. ""'^- ^2; ..d, how
J th^^wto, n Jt. are to^ o.^J^J^'^'^^
require the endeavour onl,.^ bnt that must oe
eall him ,...1. «" '" " °,„, ^ s,„,red aecordlne to
rhn^"^: oi — : he".how. ^ .- j^^ --
Je'with the mora,. Let » -^'■-J^:*;^^^
\\r^ miiQt know therefore, that good ana evu <^i
^;n ttSlto signify the inclination or aversion of
li
,4
310
LEVIATHAN
them, by whom they were given. But the inclinations of
men are diverse, according to their diverse constitutions,
customs, opinions ; as we may see in those things w« ap-
prehend by sense, as by tasting, touching, smelHng; but
much more in those which pertain to the common actions
of hfe, where what this man commends, that is to say,
calls good, the other undervalues, as being evil. Nay,'
very often the same man at diverse times praises and dis-
praises the same thing. Whilst thus they do, necessary
It IS there should be discord and strife. They are, there-
fore, so long in the state of war, as by reason of 'the di-
versity of the present appetite, they mete good and evil
by diverse measures. All men easily acknowledge this
state, as long as they are in it, to be evU, and bv conse-
quence that peace is good. They therefore who could not
agree concerning a present, do agree concerning a future
good ; which indeed is a work of reason ; for things pres-
ent are obvious to the sense, things to come to our reason
only. Reason declaring peace to be good, it follows by
the same reason, that all the necessary means to peace
be good also; and therefore that modesty, equity, trust,
humanity, mercy, (which we have demonstrated to be
necessary to peace), are good manners or habits, that is,
virtues. The law therefore, in the means to peace, com-
mands also good manners, or the practice of virtue ; and
therefore it is called moral.
32. But because men cannot put off this same irra-
tional appetite, whereby they greedily prefer the present
good (to which, by strict consequence, many unforseen
evils do adhere) before the future; it happens, that
though all men do agree in the commendation of the fore-
said virtues, yet they disagree still concerning their na-
ture, to wit, in what each of them doth consist. For as
oft as another's good action displeaseth anv man, that
LAWS OF NATURE
311
action hath the name given of some neigbbounng vice;
likewise the bad actions which please them, are ever en it-
uled to some virtue. Whence it comes to pass that the
same action is praised by these, and called virtue, and d.s-
;ri:ed by ^^Z, and termed vice. Neither is there as ye
any remedy found by philosophers for this matter. For
Se they 'could not observe the goodness of acUonsJo
consist in this, that it was in order to peace, and the evil
ZSs, that it related to discord, they built a moral philos-
X wholly estranged from the moral law, and uncon-
s£ to itsif. For they would have the nature of virtues
se^ed in a certain kind of mediocrity between two ex-
emes, and the vices in the extremes themselves; winch
s aTparently false. For to dare is commended, and. un-
der tSe name of fortitude is taken for a virtue, although
t e an ^xtreme.lf the cause be appn^ved ^so t ^ quan^
litv of a thing given, whether it be great or little or De-
twLnboh. makes n^t liberality, but the cause of giving
ir Neither is it injustice, if I give any man more of
what i mLe own than I owe him. The laws of nature,
rerefore are the sum of moral philosophy ; whereof I
have tT; delivered such precepts in this place, as apper-
Snto the preservation of ou^elves against those danger
:?^:s;:r.rthrs^oS£^
overcome ; because it is a means tending to the preserva
tion of him that resists. , .
33. But those which we call the laws of "at'^e j^n^
thev are nothing else but certain conclusions, understood
bv 'reason, of things to be done and omitted, but a law,
ii
312
LEVIATHAN
to speak properly and accurately, is the speech of him
who by right commands somewhat to others to be done
or omitted), are not in propriety of speech laws, as they
proceed from nature. Yet. asJ:hev are delivere d by God
i ^ h(;ilv Scriptures, as we shall see in the chapter follow-
ing, tli?y arr rnnif r'""F'i''"H' fiilM ^^' the name of laws.
For the sacred Scripture is the speech of God command-
ing over all things by greatest right.
CHAPTER XVI.
OF PERSONS, AUTHORS, AND THINGS PERSONATED.
A persq;*. is he, whose words or actions are considered,
elih^his own, or as representing the words or actw>is
of another man, or of any other thing, to whom they
are attributed, zvhether tridy or by fiction.
When they are considered as his own, then is he called
a natmUerm^-- and when they are considered as repre-
seirting the ^rds and actions of another, then is he a
fciirned or artificidjierson^ , . ^ , „
^-^TwordlSiTiOTirilto : instead whereof the Greeks
have ^/."^«":ov, which signifies the face, as personam
Latin signifies the disguise, or outward appearance of a
man, counterfeited on the stage ; and sometimes more par-
ticularly that part of it, which disguiseth the face, as a
mask or vizard : and from the stage, hath been translated
to any representer of speech and action, as well in tribu-
nals, as theatres. So that a person, is the same that an
actor is, both on the stage and in common conversation;
iind to personate, is to act, or represent himself, or an-
other ; and he that acteth another, is said to bear his
person, or act in his name ; in which sense Cicero useth
it where he says, Unus sustineo tres personas; met, ad-
versarii, et judicis: I bear three persons- my own, my
adversary's, and the judge's; and is called in divers oc-
casions, diversly; as a representer, or representattve a
lieutenant, a vicar, an attorney, a deputy, a procurator.
an actor, and the like. . j „„
Of persons artificial, some have their words and ac-
tions owned by those whom they represent And tha
the person is the actor; and he that owneth his words
314
LEVIATHAN
and actions, is the author : in which case the actor acteth
by authority. For that which in speaking of goods and
possessions, is called an owner, and in Latin dominus, in
Greek xopto^ speaking of actions, is called author. And
as the right of possession, is called dominion; so the
right of doing any action, is called authority. So that
by authority, is always understood a right of doing any
act ; and done by authority, done by commission, or li-
cence from him whose right it is.
From hence it followeth, that when the actor maketh
a covenant by authority, he bindeth thereby the author,
no less than if he had made it himself; and no less sub-
jecteth him to all the consequences of the same. And
therefore all that hath been said formerly, (chap, xiv) of
the nature of covenants between man and man in their
natural capacity, is true also when they are made by
their actors, representers, or procurators, that have author-
ity from them, so far forth as is in their commission,
but no further.
And therefore he that maketh a covenant with the
actor, or representer, not knowing the authority he hath,
doth it at his own peril. For no man is obliged by a
covenant, whereof he is not author; nor conseiquently by
a covenant made against, or beside the authority he gave.
When the actor doth anything against the law of na-
ture by command of the author, if he be obliged by for-
mer covenant to obey him, not he, but the author break-
eth the law of nature; for though the action be against
the law of natur-e; yet it is not his: but contrarily, to
refuse to do it, is against the law of nature, that forbid-
deth breach of covenant.
And he that maketh a covenant with the author, by
mediation of the actor, not knowing what authority he
hath, but only takes his word ; in case such authority be
OF PERSONS. AUTHORS, ETC.
3«S
not made manifest unto him upon demand, is no longer
obliged: for the covenant made with the author, is not
valid, without his counter- assurance. But if he that so
covenanteth. knew beforehand he was to expect no other
assurance, than the actor's word; then is the covenant
valid; because the actor in this case maketh himself the
author. And therefore, as when the authority is evident,
the covenant obligeth the author, not the actor; so when .
the authority is feigned, it obligeth the actor only ; there
being no author but himself.
There are few things, that are incapable of being re-
presented by fiction. Inanimate things, as a church, an
hospital, a bridge, may be personated by a rector, master,
or overseer. But things inanimate, cannot be authors,
nor therefore give authority to their actors : yet the actors
may have authority to procure their maintenance given
them by those that are owners, or governors of those
things. And therefore, such things cannot be personated,
before there be some state of civil government.
Likewise children, fools, and madmen that have no
use of reason, may be personated by guardians, or cu-
rators; but can be no authors, during that time of any
action done by them, longer than, when they shall re-
cover the use of reason, they shall judge the same reas-
onable. Yet during the folly, he that hath right of govern-
ing them, may give authority to the guardian. But this
again has no place but in a state civil, because before
such estate, there is no dominion of persons.
An idol, or mere figment of the brain, may be per-
sonated ; as were the gods of the heathen : which by such
officers as the state appointed, were personated, and held
possessions, and other goods, and rights, which men from
time to time dedicated, and consecrated unto them. But
idols cannot be authors : for an idol is nothine. The au-
!!
3i6
LEVIATHAN
OF PERSONS. AUTHORS, ETC.
317
thority proceeded from the state: and therefore before
introduction of civil government, the gods of the heathen
could not be personated.
The true God may be personated. As he was ; first,
by Moses; who governed the Israelites, that were not
his, but God's people, not in his own name, y/iih hoc
dicit Moses; but in God's name, with hoc dicit Dominus.
Secondly, by the Son of man, his own Son, our blessed
Saviour Jesus Christ, that came to reduce the Jews, and
induce all nations into the kingdom of his father; not
as of himself, but as sent from his father. And thirdly,
by the Holy Ghost, or Comforter, speaking, and working
in the Apostles: which Holy Ghost, was a Comforter
that came not of himself; but was sent, and proceeded
from them both.
A multitude of men, are made one person, when they
are by one man, or one person, represented; so that it
be done with the consent of every one of that multitude
in particular. For it is the unity of the representer, not
the unity of the represented, that maketh the person one.
And it is the representer that beareth the person, and
but one person: and unity, cannot otherwise be under-
stood in multitude.
And because the multitude naturally is not one, but
many; they cannot be understood for one; but many au-
thors, of every thing their representative saith, or doth
in their name; every man giving their common repre-
senter, authority from himself in particular ; and owning
kll the actions tbfiL-iepresenter doth, in case they give
him authority without stint: otherwise, when they limit
him in what, and how far he shall represent them, none
of them owneth more than they gave him commission
to act.
And if the representalJ:^ consist of many men, the
^ voice of the greaterjiumber^ust b^ cogsiderfid^as^tbo-
voice of them dl. For if the lesser number pronounce,
for example, in the affirmative, and the greater m the
negative, there will be negatives more than enough to
destroy the affirmatives ; and thereby the excess of neg-
atives, standing uncontradicted, are the only voice the
representative hath.
And a representative of even number, especially when
the number is not great, whereby the contradictory
voices are oftentimes equal, is therefore oftentimes mute,
and incapable of action. Yet in some cases contradic-
torv voices equal in number, may determine a question ;
as 'in condemning, or absolving, equality of votes, even
in that thev condemn not, do absolve ; but not on the
contrarv condemn , in that they absolve not. For when
a cause is heard; not to condemn, is to absolve: but on
the contrary, to say that not absolving, is condemning,
is not true. The like it is in a deliberation of executing
presently, or deferring till another time: for when the
voices are equal, the not decreeing execution, is a decree
of dilation.
Or if the number be odd, as three, or more, men or
assemblies; whereof every one has by a negative voice, ^^^ f^^U .
authority to take away the effect of all the affirmative|
voices of the rest, this number is no representative; be-
cause by the diversity of opinions, and interests of men,
it becomes oftentimes, and in cases of the greatest conse-
quence, a mute person, and unapt, as for many thmgs
else, so for the government of a multitude, especially
in time of war. ^ . • 1 e,^
Of authors there be two sorts. The first simply so
called ; which I have before defined to be him that own-
eth the action of another simply. The second is he, that
owneth an action, or covenant of another conditionally;
^^f
318
LEVIATHAN
that is to say, he undertaketh to do it, if the other doth it
not, at, or before a certain time. And these authors con-
ditional, are generally sailed sureties, in Latin, Mejus-
sores, and sponsores; and particularly for debt, praedes;
and for appearance before a judge, or magistrate, vades.
PART II.
OF COMMONWEALTH.
CHAPTER XVII.
OF THE CAUSES, GENERATION, AND DEFINITION OF A
COMMONWEALTH.
The final cause, end, or design of men, who naturally
love liberty, and dominion over others, in the introduction
of that restraint upon themselves, in which we see them
live in commonwealths, is the foresight of their own pres-
ervation, and of a more contented life thereby; that is
to say of getting themselves out from that miserable
condition of war, which is necessarily consequent, as hath
been shown in chapter xiii, to the natural passions of
men when there is no visible power to keep them m awe,
and tie them by fear of punishment to the performance
of their covenants, and observation of those laws of nature
set down in the fourteenth and fifteenth chapters.
For the la ws of nature , as justice, equity, tnodesty,
mercy, and, In sum, 'dbiHg to others, as we would be
done to. of themselves, without the terror of some_Ba3g£r,
to cause them to be observed, are_contrary to ournatur^
passions, that carry us to partiality, pride, revenge, and
ihTuire: And covenants, without the sword, are but ^.^
words, and of no strength to secure a man at all. There-
fore notwithstanding the laws of nature, which every one
hath then kept, when he has the will to keep them, when
he can do it safely, if there be no power erected, or not
great enough for our security; every man will, and may
lawfully rely on his own strength and art. for caution
11'
320
LEVIATHAN
\ •
against all other men. And in all places, where men have
lived by small families, to rob and spoil one another,
has been a trade, and so far from being reputed against
the law of nature, that the greater spoils they gained,
the greater was their honour ; and men observed no other
laws therein, but the laws of honour ; that is, to abstain
from crueltv, leaving to men their lives, and instruments
of husbandr}\ And as small families did then ; so now do
cities and kingdoms which are but greater families, for
their own security, enlarge their dominions, upon all
pretences of danger, and fear of invasion, or assistance
that may be given to invaders, and endeavour as much
as they can, to subdue, or weaken their neighbours, by
open force, and secret arts, for want of other caution,
justly ; and are remembered for it in after ages with hon-
our.
Nor is it the joining together of a small number of
men, that gives them this security; because in small
numbers, small additions on the one side or the other,
make the advantage of strength so great, as is sufficient
to carry the victory ; and therefore gives encouragement
to an invasion. The multitude sufficient to confide in for
our security, is not determined by any certain number,
but by comparison with the enemy we fear; and is then
sufficient, when the odds of the enemy is not of fo visible
and conspicuous moment, to determine the event of war,
as to move him to attempt.
And be there never so great a multitude; yet if
their actions be directed according to their particular
judgments, and particular appetites, they can expect there-
by no defence, nor protection, neither against a common
enemy, nor against the injuries of one another. For be-
ing distracted in opinions concerning the best use and
application of their strength, they do not help but hinder
CAUSES, ETC. OF A COMMONWEALTH
321
onnther- and reduce their strength by mutual oppo- ]
one another, ana rcuuv. ^«o;iv not only sub-
sition to nothing: thereby they are eas.^y.no^^^^^
dued by. very few that agree to^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^
is no common enemy, they make war p ^ ,
for their particular interests. F°r>we^ could PP^^ ^^
r^ "tSlrel Ta^sTnX wHho^t a common
^'XX^ all in a^e; we rnigh^^^^^^^^^
In .anWind to do ^-^^'^^Z^'l^^^^^^
be, nor need to be any civii^ subjection,
at all; because there -^f^^'^Xuy, Ich men desire
Nor is it enough for the s«^«"^y' governed,
should last all the time ^^J*^^;^^' j/'.^^^^^ as in
and directed by one Judgment, for aim ^ ^.^_
one battle, or one war. For *o"g»^^ J ^ ; ene-
torv by their unanimous endeavour agam^ a *o f
^y, yet afterwards, -^^^J^f ,*^^^^^^^^ is by
enemy, or he that by one parMs held l ^^^^^ ^^^
^rr^f r rrertle^ and fall again into ,
a war amongst themselves.
by Aristotle ""-X^Xln'^heir particular judg-
vet have no other direction, f ^ijem can
;nents and appetites; nor speech, v^heeby one ^^^
signify to another -hat J ^^^^^^^^^^ ^P^^*^ ^^,,^3
Sro^r-wt-^trcannotdothesame. To
which I answer, ,„„Hnuallv in competition for
)
a
,
i
322
LEVIATHAN
Secondly, that amongst these creatures, the common
good differeth not from the private ; and being by nature
inclined to their private, they procure thereby the com-
mon benefit. But man, whose joy consisteth in compar-
ing himself with other men, can relish nothing but what is
eminent.
Thirdly, that these creatures, having not, as man, the
use of reason, do not see, nor think they see any fault,
in the administration of their common business ; whereas
amongst men, there are very many, that think them-
selves wiser, and abler to govern the public, better than
the rest; and these strive to reform and innovate, one
this way, another that way ; and thereby bring it into dis-
traction and civil war.
Fourthly, that these creatures, though they have some
use of voice, in making known to one another their
desires, and other affections; yet they want that art of
words, by which some men can represent to others, that
which is good, in the likeness of evil; and evil, in the
likeness of good ; and augment, or diminish the apparent
greatness of good and evil ; discontenting men, and troub-
ling their peace at their pleasure.
Fifthly, irrational creatures cannot distinguish be-
tween injury^ and damage; and therefore as long as they
be at ease, they are not offended with their fellows:
whereas man is then most troublesome, 'when he is most
at ease: for then it is that he loves to shew his wisdom,
and control the actions of them that govern the common-
wealth.
' Lastly, the agreement of these creatures is natural;
that of men, is by covenant only, which is artificial : and
therefore it is no wonder if there be somewhat else re-
i quired, besides covenant, to make their agreement con-
I stant and lasting ; which is a common power, to keep them
CAUSES, ETC. OF A COMMONWEALTH 323
in awe and to direct their actions to the common benefit.
The only .my -- ---^ --^^ ^ ^Q"^"^" P^^"^' ^' "^^^
be aWTlAsHalH^Sn^ invasion of foreigners,
and the injuries of one another, and thereby to secure them
tfsuch sirt, as that by their own industry and by the
fru ts of the earth, they may nourish themselves and Irve
contentedly; jg, to conf^eLalUhej , power ^^4 strcn^ ^
tmnnjirininn - "P^n ^ne assembly of men, that may
will • which is as much as to say, to appomt one man, or
Issemblv of men, to bear their person; and every one to
own and acknowledge himself to be author of whatsoever
he that so beareth their person, shall act, or cause to be
acted in those thfugs which concern the common peace
and ;afety;^and therein to submit ^^^ ,-'fj;^^^^ ^^
to his will, and their judgments, to his judgment. Ihis
\ s Sre than consent, or concord; it is a real unity o s
them all, in one and the same person, made by covenant
' of every man with every man, in such manner, as if every
man should say to every man, / authorise and ^e up
my right of governing myself, to this man, or to this as-
4f sembly of men, on this condition, that thou give up thy
r TgHt to him, and authorise all his actions in hke manner^
This done, the multitude so united in one person is called
rcoMMO^wEALTH, in Latin civiTAS. TOs IS the gener
' ation of that ^reat pviATHAjj , or rather to speak "^^^^
Ireverently, of thztlnortal g6d. to which we owe under
\ZZmlrtal God, our peace and defence. For by this
Authority, given him by every particular man in the com-
monwealth he hath the use of so much power and strength
Conferred on him, that by terror thereof,pie is enabled to
perform the wills of them all, to peace a? home, and mu-
tual aid against their enemies abroad. ^2^- J^^^^^^
sisteth the essence of the commonwealthr[which, to de
\ \
!
¥
-«!!'
\*»'*'- it
324
LEVIATHAN
^o
^
(
i
fine it, is on^ person, of whose acts a great mulktude, by
"mutual covenants one ivith another, have made them-
selves every one the author, to the end he may use the
strength and means of them all, as he shall think exped-
ient, for their peace and common defence.
\ And he that carrieth this person, is called sove reign ,
and said to have sovereign power; and every ^Tl^tesides,
his SUDJECT.
le attaining to this sovereign power, ig by twn yray s^^
One, by natural force ; as when a man maketh his child-
ren^ to submit themselves, and their children to his gov-
ernment, as being able to destroy them if they refuse;
or by war subdueth his enemies to his will, giving them
their lives on that condition. The other, is when men
a gree am ongst thems elves, to submit to some mag , or
assembly ot men, voluntarily, on confidence to be protected
by him. against all others. This latter, may be called a •
political commonwealth, or commonwealth by institutio n : y
and the former, a commonwealth by acquisition. And ^
first, I shall speak of a commonwealth by institution.
.1
CHAPTER XVIII.
OF THE RIGHTS or SOVEREIGNS BY INSTITUTION. '
A commonwealth is said to be instiXuied, when a mu/i
^ J o" men do agree, and covenant, every one.J^^^^
Irv one that to whatsoever man, or assembly of men, shall
Te ^iveVbv t^^ major part, the right to present the person
o Sem al hatis to say, to be their representat^ve ; every
all fhe nVW^ and faculties of him, or them, on whom
tti^'^wer is conferred by the consent of the peo-
''' FSr because they covenant, it is to be understood.
thefSe nrobhged by former covenant to anyth-g -
;'Snant hereunto. And -sequ^nt^ *^^^^^^^^^^
cLot lawfully make a new ^°-^"^"^' ^f wha s^
selves, to be obedient to any ^t''^;; "J/, ^/f ^h^y L
ever, without his permission. And thereiore i y
'llin
W-
y^'--
l!
326
LEVIATHAN
man dissenting, all the rest should break their covenant
made to that man, which is injustice : and they have also
every man given the sovereignty to him that beareth their
person ; and therefore if they depose him, they take from
him that which is his own, and so again it is injustice.
Besides, if he that attempteth to depose his sovereign, be
killed, or punished by him for such attempt, he is author
of his own punishment, as being by the institution, author
of all his sovereign shall do: and because it is injustice
for a man to do anything, for which he may be punished
by his own authority, he is also upon that title, unjust.
And whereas some men have pretended for th eir dispbed -
jence to their sovereijs:n , a new cove nant^j rij
men, b ut with G od; this also islunj ustrfor there isji o
covenant with uod , but by mediation of somebody that
representeth God's person; which none doth but God's
lieutenant, who hath the sovereignty under God. But
this pretence of covenant with God, is so evident a lie,
even in the pretenders' own consciences, that it is not
only an act of an unjust, but also of a vile and unmanly
disposition.*
^Compare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II, 106). "We
have seen how subjects, nature dictating, have obliged themselves
by mutual compacts to obey the supreme power. We will see
now by what means it comes to pass, that they are released
from these bonds of obedience. And first of all, this happens
by rejection, namely, if a man cast off or forsake, but convev
not the right of his command on some other. For what is thus
rejected, is openly exposed to all alike, catch who catch can;
whence again, by the right of nature, every subject may heed
the preservation of himself according to his own judgment. In
the second place, if the kingdom fall into the power of the enemy,
so as there can no more opposition be made against them, we
must understand that he who before had the supreme authority,
hath now lost it: for when the subjects have done their full en-
deavour to prevent their falling into the enemy's hands, they have
fulfilled those contracts of obedience which they made each with
other; and what, being conquered, they promise afterwards to
RIGHTS OF SOVEREIGNS
327
Secondly, because the right of beanng the per«>n of
thenTIiUs given to him they make ^^^'f; J^^^^
enant only of one to another, and not of h.m to any^f
them • there can happen no breach of covenant on *e
parT;f the sovereign; and consequently n-eofhjs^
tects W ^^ wpretence of forfeiture, c^ W l^^irom
nJSSTwith his subjects beforehand .s -m «t ; b^
cause either he must make it with the whole multitude, as
one party to the covenant; or he must make a several
covenant with every man. With_the whole, as one party.
avoid death, they must with no less endeavour labour.^t»^per-
form. Thirdly ma "°f j-^l^y' ^-*°J,^/trSn^^^ are dis-
cannot fail), "^ there be "?J""5^^°^' *„a„ is supposed to be
charged from the.r obligations, for "» "'^n .^^l„^ j^pos-
tied he knows not to whom , for >" !»<="^» ^u sub ects
sible to perform aught. And J.y Aese hree ^y^,
are restored from their "V';^"b,|c«o ^ ^^^
men have to all things , to *","-'" . j, . j ^^^^ liberty
ural state hath the same P'^?P°"'f5, *JL ,easo„ or a beast to a
to subjection), which P«s='°?'^='**°,"fX' be freed from his
man. Furthermore each subject may lawtmiyM ^^^^
subjection by the will of l"«.whohath the supremely ,
ly, if he change his soil; w>"?h may be done two w ^^^^ ^^^^^^_
permission, as he who gets ''"nse to dwei^i ^^ .^ ^^^^
or command, as he who is >»"'*^°- ? wa" se he is tied to
from the laws of his ormer country bec^ause ^^
observe those o' the latter. rv is understood to last
"The obligation of subjects to the sovereign, is u ^.^^ ^^ ._^
as long, and "O •°"8''^ * ,L rieht men hrve by nature to pro-
able to protect them. For the "ght men nave y ^^
tect themselves when none else can pro ect than, ^^^^ J ^^^
covenant be relinquished. 1 he sovereigmy
commonwealth; which o"" departed rom the body. ^^ ^^
bers do no more ««'V; th'«i,^,°»^°e^eJ^^^^^^ seeth it. either in
dience is Protection -wh-ch wheresoever ^.^ obedierice to
his own. or in another s swora nature m sovereignty,
it, and his *?9
of an assembly, whereof they may hope to participate,
than of monarchy, which they despair to enjoy.
^Compare Philosophical ^^''^''^^X^J^y ^r"e of the
much as the supreme =.°"'"'='"f: '1 '""'sub ect mutually makes
compacts which each smgecmzen or sudj ^^^.^ ^^^^^
with the other ; but all =°° ^^"'' *' * "hev l°se it again and are
the contractors, so by their .^o"" "' "i^\ u^t by the consent of
broken: perhaps ^o««, "-Y. j"*"reme au*ority may be wholly
all the sub ects together the 5'\?'^f.'"^„e true I cannot discern
taken away. Which mference ^ «^^^',t ^Ve supreme com-
what danger w^V^ '^'-^f.^^'^^ed that each one hath obheed
manders. For smce it s s"PP°^«i \ i,^„, ^hall refuse, what-
himself to each other ; if any one ot t" notwithstanding,
soever the rest shall agree to do, he is dou ^^^.^^
Neither can any. man without ^"'•yj t°„^,' j „ot to do. But it
contract made ^l'^ me he hath obl^ed hirn ^^^^ ^^^
is not to be imagined that «ver it wu n l-V ■ y^,^ against the
together, not so '""=*'„^/ °f the^e ^s „o fear for rulers in chief
supreme power. Wherefore there is n authority. If,
that by any right they <^«n ,^« J*^P° '*the°r ri#t depended only
notwithstanding, it were B-^^^t^fn^'Veswith his fellow-citizen,
on that contract which each man '?^'^«^r;\ ^e robbed of that
it might very easily happen that they might p
dominion under pretence of r ght. ^°J ^ ••, go^ting togeth-
either by the command o tl?= c'ty. o^ |«<1' ^„ ^ „ contained in
er, most men thmk that the conse"; ^ . ^^ por it is
the votes of the greater part; ^nich in truin is ^
not from nature that *e consent of the major p ^^^
received for the consent °j.f"'. "!**^^Vis theTonly true, when
it proceeds from ""V .'»'W"i,-^"„preme powe?, assembling
that man or court which .''.^^^"fof their number allows
his subjects, by reason of the ^['^'^^^^^"'for those who elected
those that are elected a power °' =P^*^f *-i„s ;„ such matters
them; and will have t^e major part o^vou^es . ^^ ^^^^^^^,
as are by him propounded Wje d>sc"sseo, ^ ^^^^
as the whole. But we carnPV^.Z fw thev should dispute his
convened his subjects with •nt^"''°"„7t\ 'eSre^^^^^ declared in
right: unless weary of the t>"rthen of his charge j^
pfain terms that he renounces and a W^^^ ^8^ ^^^
Now because most ««" J^IPf^^" ign ^^ ^ ^^^ j
sent of the major part of citizens ""'y'."" ^nt of the whole
provided they be of their opmion for the cons ^^^
Sty; it may very well seem to them, that tnesp ^.^embly
may by right b\»b^ogated so it be done ,„ jme g ^^^ ^^^^^^ ^
of citizens by the vo es of .t^* 8'/»ter "umo ^.^^,,^^
^rpX^l^ak^Titfri^h^ IVnTnot on ?hat obligation
330'
LEVIATHAN
RIGHTS OF SOVEREIGNS
33«
f!
\
1 1
Thirdly, because the major part hath by consenting
voices declared a sovereign ; he that dissented must now
consent with the rest; that is, be contented to avow all
the actions he shall do, or else justly be destroyed by the
rest. For if he voluntarily entered into the congregation
of them that were assembled, he sufficiently declared there-
by his will, and therefore tacitly covenanted, to stand
to what the major part should ordain: and therefore if
he refuse to stand thereto, or make protestation against
any of their decrees, he does contrary to his covenant,
and therefore unjustly. And whether he be of the con-
gregation, or not; and whether his consent be asked,
or not, he must either submit to their decrees, or be
left in the condition of war he was in before; where-
in he might without injustice be destroyed by any man
whatsoever.
Fourthly, because every subject is by this institution
author of all the actions, and judgments of the sovereign
instituted ; it follows, that whatsoever he doth, it can be
\ no injury to any of his subjects ; nor ought he to be by
only ; there is another tie also towards him who commands. For
each citizen compacting with his fellow, says thus: / convey
my right on this party, upon condition that you pass yours to
the same: by which means, that right which every man had be-
fore to use his faculties to his own advantage, is now wholly
translated on some certain man or council for the common ben-
efit. Wherefore what by the mutual contracts each one hath
made with the other, what by the donation of right which every
man is bound to ratify to him that commands, the government
is upheld by a double obligation from the citizens; first, that
which is due to their- fellow citizens ; next, that which they
owe to their prince. Wherefore no subjects, how many soever
they be, can with any right despoil him who bears the chief rule
of his authority, without his own consent." The Molesworth
edition reads, "even without his own consent." This makes
the final sentence of the extract meaningless, and is evidently
the result of a mistranslation of the words of the De Cive: "Non
ergo cives, quotcunque fuerint, sine consensu etiam ipsius im-
perantis, eum spoliare imperio jure possunt."
any of them accused of injustice. For he that doth any-
thing by authority from another, doth therein no mjury
to him by whose authority he acteth : but by this institu-
tion of a commonwealth, every particular nr^n is author
of all the sovereign doth : and consequently/he that com-
plaineth of injury from his sovereign, complaineth of that
whereof he himself is authojjand therefore ought not to
accuse any man but himself; no n6r himself of mjury;
because to do injury to one's self, is impossible. It is true
that they that have sovereign power may commit mi-
quity , but not injustice, or injury in the proper significa-
tion.'
'Compare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. 11, lOi). "Because
♦ ♦ V ♦ they who have gotten the jM^rme- command,
are by no compacts obliged to any man, it necessarily follows
that tL^can do no tn/ury to the subjects. For injrury * * * *
isnothlne else but a breach of contract ; and therefore where
no coXct' have part, there can be no injury. Yet the people
?he nobles'' and the monarch may diverse .ways transgress against
the other laws of nature, as by cruelty, iniquity, contumely, and
ItLr like vTces which come not under this strict and exact
notL of tS But if the subject yield not obedience, to the
^unremrhe will in propriety of speech be said to be injurious,
as^weTl to his ellow^^^^ because each man hath compacted
with the other to obey; as to his chief ruler, in resuming that
^eht which he hath kiven him, without his consent. And m
a rfm™y or aristocracy, if anything be decreed against any
hw^f nature the city itself, that is, the civil person sins not,
buT those' s'ubjects onl^ by whose votes K„was decreed; f^^^^^^^^
is a consequence of the natural express will, not of the PO»tica^
wi^thWi artificial For if it were otherwise, they would be guilty
by whom [h^^^^^^^^^ absolutely disliked But in a monarchy
il ^TZnnarch make any decree gainst the laws of nature, he
ll^im.eH- because in him the civil will and the natural are
an one^ Also^^^^^^^^^^^ PoU^^^'^ (M- IV, ^o). "How. unjust
soever the action be, that this sovereign demus shall do, is done
b^t^e win Tevery particular man subject to him, .who. are
thereforreuiUy of the same. If therefore they style it injury,
he^but afcu e^hemselves. And it is against reason for the same
rnan both to do and complain; implymg .this contradiction, that
Xeas he first ratified the People's acts ;n general ^;^;j^<^^- f^^
allnweth the same of them in particular. It is thereiore saia
truly, ^o/Jn'* non fit injuna. Nevertheless nothmg doth hmder.
M"
J, LEVIATHAN
Fifthly, and consequently to that which was said last,
no man that hath sovereign power can justly be put to
death, or otherwise in any manner by his subjects pun-
ished. For seeing every subject is author of the actions
of his sovereign ; he punisheth another for the actions
committed by himself.*
RIGHTS OF SOVEREIGNS
333
but that divers actions done by tht peop'^. «-'y M "»J"** ''**°"
God Almighty, as breaches of the laws of nature.
•Comoare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. U, IS3;- \"^f
can neUher be b^und to itself, nor to any subject; not to .tself,
becaS no man can be obliged except .t be to another^ not W
any -bjec^ because ^^^ -"!ltns"otch^l^^r i^Kty' will be
^elrim* 1 Tuih oM^attn thfsubjects will so too; and by
c^nseauSce she is so. But that which holds true m a city, that
multX supposed to be true in a man, x)r an assembly of men
who have the supreme authority; for they make a city, which
hath no being but by their supreme power. Now that this opin-
ion cannot consist with the very being of gov«?™«"'' '^^Y>^^^
trom hence- that by it the knowledge of what is good and ev,l
thaHs to say the definition of what is, and what is not against
{he laws would return to each single person. Obedience therefore
wUl clase as oft as anything seems to be commanded contrary
W he civ 1 laws, and together with it all coercive JHn^dict.on
which cannot possibly be without the destruction of the very
essence of eovernment. Yet this error hath great props, Ans-
totf" and ofhers" who, by reason of human infirmity suppose
the supreme power to be committed with most s"""*? t°.*'
laws onlv But they seem to have looked very shallowly into
IhlnaS; of government, who thought that the constraining
oower the intefpretation of laws, and the making of laws, all
which are ^wers necessarily belonging to government, should
be left wholly to the laws themselves.. Now „f ''°"f P="t*^=tw
subjects may sometimes contend m judgment, and go to law
with the supreme magistrate ; yet this is only then, when the
question is not what the magistrate may, but what ty a certain
?ule he hath declared he would do. As. when by any law the
judges sit upon the life of a subject, the question is not whether
ihe magistrate could by his absolute right deprive him of his
life- but whether by that law his will was that he should be
deprived of it But his will was. he should, if he brake the law;
else his will was. he should not. This therefore, that a subject
may have an action of law against his supreme magistrate, ,s not
strength of argument sufficient, to prove, that he is tied to his
own laws. On the contrary, it is .«^'f "* t*'.^* ^'^^'^{""Vaws
to his own laws; because no man is bound to himselt. Laws
And because the end of this institution, is the peace
and defence of them all ; and whosoever has right to the
end, has right to the means ;|Tt belongeth of right, to
whatsoever man, or assembly that hath the sovereignty
to be judge both of the means of peace and defence, and
also of the hindrances, and disturbances of the same; and
^^^nxw^^y^ r he shall t hink necessary to be done,
t^^STb^fo^and, forJhe_£reservine:j ^f pcarf and secur -
itylby prevention'of discord at home, and hostility from
^ad; and, when peace and security are lost, for the
recovery of the same. And therefore,
Sixthly it is annexed to the^overeigntY. tO be judge
of what opinions and doctrines are ave rse^ and what
inducing to peace; and consequently, on what occasions,
how far, and wh.t men are to be trusted withal, m speak-
ing to multitudes of people ; and whojhalLSSH^e the
doctrines of «11 hgoks before they be p ublished. For the
actions of men proceed from their opinions; and m the
well-governing of opinions, consisteth the well-govemmg
of men's actions, in order to their peace, and concord.
And though in matter of doctrine, nothing ought to be
regarded but the truth ; yet this is not repugnant to regu-
lating the same by peace. For doctrine repugnant to
SIS' e jivna.; v?:rrsMS;»'*. «-■-
also a judge above him. and a power to pumsh him, which
'i
4
\
^m
w
LEVIATHAN
peace, can no more be true, than peace and concord can
be against the law of nature. It is true, that in a common-
wealth, where by the negligence, or unskilfulness of
governors, and teachers, false doctrines are by time gen-
erally received ; the contrary truths may be generally of-
fensive. Yet the most sudden, and rough bursting in of
a new truth, that can be, does never break the peace,
but only sometimes awake the war. For those men that
are so remissly governed, that they dare take up arms to
defend, or introduce an opinion, are still in war; and
their condition not peace, but only a cessation of arms for
fear of one another ; and they live, as it were, in the pre-
cincts of battle continually. It belongeth therefore to him
that hath the sovereign power, to be judge, or constitute
all judges of opinions and doctrines, as a thing necessary
to peace ; thereby to prevent discord and civil war.
Seventhly, is annexed to tfee^sovereignty, the whole
power of pr escribing the rules, ^hprehy every man may-
know, what ^oods he may eni oy,> ^nd what actions he may>-
do, without being molested by any of his fellow-subjects;
l[iS this js it men call ^ rotn£ly. For before constitution
of sovereign power, as hath already been shown, all men
had right to all things; which necessarily causeth war:
and therefore this propriety, being necessary to peace,
and depending on sovereign power, is the act of that
power, in order to the public peace. These rules of pro-
priety, or meum and tuum, and of good, evil, lawful, and
unlawful in the actions of subjects, are the civil laws;
that is to say, the laws of each commonwealth in particu-
lar; though the name of civil law be now restrained to
the ancient civil laws of the city of Rome; which being
to make a new sovereign; and again for the same reason a third,
to punish the second ; and so continually without end, to the
confusion, and dissolution of the commonwealth.'
RIGHTS OF SOVEREIGNS
335
I
the head of a great part of the world, her laws at that
time were in these parts the civil law. ^ . , .
Eighthly, is annexed to the sovereignty, th inghLg^
judic^W:^Li!i;LJli2 J^' of hearing ^ and decidmg all
c^iSSSkT which m^;7^riie concerning law, either
^^d^i^CoTx^VirTiX) or concerning fact. For without the
decision of controversies, there is no protection of one
subject, against the injuries of another; the laws con-
cerning meum and tuum are in vain; and to every man
remaineth, from the natural and necessary appetite of
his own conservation, the right of protecting himself by
his private strength, which is the condition of war and
contrary to the end for f^hich every commonwealth is
instituted.
Ninthly, is annexed tojhe sovereignty, the right o f^
making war andpeace ^^ other nati ons, anTco^n^-
^jpSTffiiTlhinrto say, of judging-^^hS it is for the
public good, and how great forces are to be assembled,
armed, and paid for that end; and to levy money upon
the subjects, to defray the expenses thereof. For the
power by which the people are to be^defended, consist-
cth in their armies ; and the strength of an army, m the
union of their strength under one command; which com-
mand the sovereign instituted, therefore hath; because
the command of the mmtia, without other institution, mak-
eth him that hath it sovereign. And therefore whosoever
is made general of an army, he that hath the sovereign
power is always generalissimo.' ^
Tenthly, is annexed to the sovereignty, thejhoosmg
of all counsellors, ministers, magistrates, and officers,
both " in pe^ ^Tind war. For seeing the sovereign is
charged with the end, which is the common peace and
defense, he is understood to have power to use such means,
as he shall think most fit for his discharge.
W
336
LEVIATHA^
Eleventhly, to the sovereign is committed the_power
qf re^aiarding witlijighes, or honour, and of_punishing
with cor poral or p ecuniary punishment, or with ignqr piny,
every subject according to the law he hath formerly made;
or if there be no law made, according as he shall judge
most to conduce to the encouraging of men to serve the
commonwealth, or deterring of them from doing dis-
service to the same.
Lastly, considering what value men are naturally apt
to set upon themselves ; what respect they look for from
others ; and how little they value other men ; from whence
continually arise amongst them, emulation, quarrels, fac-
tions, and at last war, to the destroying of one another,
and diminution of their strength against a common ene-
my; it is necessary that th^re be laws of honour, and a
public rate of the worth of such men as have deserved,
or are able to deserve well of the commonwealth; and
that there be force in the hands of some or other, to put
those laws in execution. But it hath already been shown,
that not only ^he whole militia, or forces of the comniion-
wealth ; but also the judicature of all controversies, is an-
nexed to the sovereignty. To the sovereign therefore it
belongeth also tnjT^^ ^'^^^^^ "^ honour : and to appoint
what order of place, and dignity, each man shall hold;
and what signs of respect, in public or private meetings,
they shall give to one another.
These are the rights, which make the essence of sov-
ereignty ; and which are the marks, whereby a man may
discern in what man, or assembly of men, the sovereign
power is placed, and resideth. For these are incommun-
icable, and inseparable. The power to coin money ; to dis-
pose of the estate and persons of infant heirs ; to have
praeemption in markets ; and all other statute prerogatives,
may be transferred by the sovereign ; and yet the power
RIGHTS^OF SOVEREIGNS
337
It
to protect his subjects be retained. But if he ti-ansfer
the government of doctrine. ^^^^^^^
rebellion with the fear of spirits. Ana so ii
any one of the said rights, we shall Presently see th^^
. , u- f oil thP rest will produce no effect, in tne
liits f" s r»..i«. .>.« ="<■ '". *«!■ f
that these powers were divided between the Kmg, and
1 I^rS/and the House of Commons, the P«>ple had
never been divided and fallen into this ^ivil war first
Jt^een those that disagreed in politics; and a ter be-
twerSie dissenters about the liberty of rehgion; which
W so instructed men in this point of sovereign nght
thit there be few now in England that do not see that
te e Shts areTnseparable. and will be so generally ac
WnXlSged :t the nSt return of P^- 1 and ^ con^^^^^
till their miseries are forgotten; and no longer, except
ihe vuiir be better taught than they have h.therto been.
And because they are essential and inseparable rights
!. follows necessarily, that in whatsoever words any of
Urn se:m;:": gran^d away, yet if tje sove.ign ^wer
itself be not in direct te- jnounced and he name^o^
^tm^hT^^r^^fa:t^----^^^^
S he can. if we grant back the sovereignty, all is re
!l ';■' '[
\
ii
sfi
LEVIATHAN
annexed to the sovereignty, there is little ground for the
opinion of them, that say of sovereign kings, though they
be singulis majores, of greater power than every one of
their subjects, yet they be universis minor es, of less power
than them all together. For if by all together, they mean
not the collective body as one person, then all together,
and every one, signify the same ; and the speech is absurd.
But if by all together, they understand them as one per-
son, which person the sovereign bears, then the power of
all together, is the same with the sovereign's power'; and
so again the speech is absurd : which absurdity they see
well enough, when the sovereignty is in an assembly of
the people ; but in a monarch they see it not ; and yet the
power of sovereignty is the same in whomsoever it be
placed.*
•Compare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II, 80 n.). "A pop-
ular state openly challengeth absolute dominion, and the citizens
oppose it not. For, in the gathering together of many men, they
acknowledge the face of a city; and even the unskilful under-
stand, that matters there are ruled by council. Yet monarchy
is no less a city than democracy; and absolute kings have their
counsellors, from whom they will take advice, and suffer their
power, in matters of greater consequence, to be guided but not
recalled. But it appears not to most men, how a city is con-
tained in the person of a king. And therefore they object against
absolute command: first, that if any man had such a right, the
condition of the citizens would be miserable. For thus they
think; he will take all, spoil all, kill all; and every man counts
it his only happiness, that he is not already spoiled and killed.
But why should he do thus? Not because he can; for unless
he have mind to it, he will not do it. Will he, to please one
or some few, spoil all the rest? First, though by right, that is,
without injury to them, he may do it, yet can he not do it
justly, that is, without breach of the natural laws and injury
against God. And therefore there is some security for sub-
jects in the oaths which princes take. Next, if he could justly
do it, or that he made no account of his oath, yet appears there
no reason why he should desire it, since he finds no good in it.
But it cannot be denied, but a prince may sometimes have an
inclination to do wickedly. But grant then, that thou hadst
given him a power which were not absolute, but so much only as
RIGHTS OF SOVEREIGNS
339
\nd as the power^ o also the hono tg^LthlJQyglglg.
for in the sovereignty is thi fountain of h5H3ir. The dig-
nities of lord, earl, duke, and prince are h,s creatures. As
in the presence of the master, the servants are equal, and
without any honour at all ; so are the subjects, m the pres-
ence of the sovereign. And though they shine some more,
some less, when they are out of his sight.; yet m h.s pres-
ence' the; shine no more than the stars m the presence
of the sun. , .. . r u
But a man may here object, that the condition of sub-
jects is very miserable ; as being obnoxious to the lusts,
sufficed to defend thee from the N-ies of "the- i^fuh "sam^e
wilt be safe, is necessary for thee t° 8've . are not
things to be feared? For he '*•« hath strengtn^e g ^y^^^
tect all, wants not sufficiency t° °PP5f = *"„t be without some
difficulty then, but that hutnan affairs can^^^^^
inconvenience. And h.s mconv^mence nsel . ^^^ ^^
not in the government. 5°^ '* ■?!*" ^"'"could they live accord-
man by his own cotnmand. tha' 's to say coum t y ^^ ^^^ ^^ ^
Kt\7i rhose"thi« ti£^^ "fihSrofCS
their private interest, and ^^''^L^^^j'^^^iHuties without the
cannot sometimes be ^X'r'e o°re'" inc"s' so^eltaes forbear the
hazard °' /h' city, wnereio j somewhat of the
exercise of their "K^Vj/riV" On the rights of sovereignty
act, but nothing of their "^M. ynine b ,
lie fs sole legislator: and sfX!.ran"d oea°ce to h^m belongeth
the times, and occasions of war, and peace, lo "»"» . ^,
to cCse magistrates, counsellors, commanders, and all other
U
f\\
I
I': •■;
rl<
340
LEVIATHAN
and other irregular passions of him, or them that have
so unlimited a power in their hands. And commonly they
that live under a monarch, think it the fault of monar-
chy ; and they that live under the government of democ-
racy, or other sovereign assembly, attribute all the in-
convenience to that form of commonwealth ; whereas the
power in all forms, if th^ be perfect enough to protect
them, is the same : not considering that the state of man
can never be without some incommodity or other; and
that the greatest, that in any form of government can
possibly happen to the people in general, is scarce sen-
sible, in respect to the miseries, and horrible calamities,
that accompany a civil war, or that dissolute condition
of master less men, without subjection to laws, and a co-
ercive power to tie their hands from rapine and revenge:
nor considering that the greatest pressure of sovereign
governors, proceedeth not from any delight, or profit they
can expect in the damage or weakening of their subjects,
in whose vigour, consisteth their own strength and glory ;
but in the restiveness of themselves, that unwillingly con-
tributing to their own defence, make it necessary for their
governors to draw from them what they can in time of
peace, that they may have means on any emergent occas-
ion, or sudden need, to resist, or take advantage on their
enemies. For^ll men are by nature provided of notable
multiplying glasses , that is their passions and self-love,
through which, every little payment appeareth a great
grievance ; but are destitute of those prospective glasses,
namelv moral and civil science, to see afar off the miser-
RIGHTS OF SOVEREIGNS
341
ies that hang over them, and cannot without such pay-
ments be avoided^ ' ' -. .
Leviathan, (M. HI, ''f-,^- „ Vu *'_ ". only monarchs, but also
the matter bemg !ff f : «° ^^,"3* "° orthe Conservation of the
^hole -/^^"^''••'^^^j'^'^'j'h'e e was orJlr taken for an artificial inan;
peace 01 men,, tnai as iiicic wac ortJfirial eternity of hie:
lo there be order also taken, jo^ J^ /~' ^[^^Xy, should
without which, men that are governed by an a , ^^^
return into the condition of war m every 8 • jjeth.
are governed by one man, a\.^°°".^'.,, the right of succes-
This^rtmcial eu™ty .^^^^^^^^^^^^ Aere the dis-
& Jf'thl 'suc"ces?^n is not in ^^^e present -^re^^^^ For^.^
it be in any other P^'^icular man or pnvate assemo^y, ^^ ^^^
person sub ect, and may be /^s"™ u in htaself. And if it be
pleasure; and consequently the right u •" f^^^^^^ (3 t^e com-
in no particu ar man, ^nt 'eft t°.^ "^ -^Hm that can get it;
ft
1f^
officers, and ministers ; and to determine of rewards, and punish-
ments, honour, and order. The reasons whereof, are the same
which are alleged in the precedent chapter, for the same righta
and consequences of sovereignty by institution.
w
\^
CHAPTER XXXI.
OF THE KINGDOM OF GOD BY NATURE.
Th.\t the condition of mere nature, that is to say, of abso-
lute liberty, such as is theiFS, that neither are sovereigns,
nor subjects, is anarchy, and the condition of war: that
the precepts, by which men are guided to avoid that con-
dition, are the laws of nature : that a commonwealth, with-
out sovereign power, is but a word without substance, and
cannot stand: that subje cts owe to sove reigps,^.-sig!ple
obedi enc§^Jll.jjl _things ja:.herffin their, obe dience is not_
repugnant to the laws rf God, I have sufficiently proved,
in that which I have already written. There wants only,
for the entire knowledge of civil duty, to know what are
^hos e laws of God . For without that, a m an kno ws not,
whe n he is commanded a ny thing by the, civi l^power,
w hether it be contr ary to JHeTaw of G Qd,_or_not : and so,
either by too much civil obedience, offends the Divine
Majesty; or through fear of offending God, transgresses
the commandments of the commonwealth. To avoid
both these rocks, it is necessary to know what are the laws
divine. And seeing the knowledge of all law, dependeth
on the knowledge of the sovereign power, I shall say
something in that which followeth, of t he Kingdom of
God is king, let the earth rejoice, saith the psalmist,
(xcvii. i). And again, (Psalm xcix. i) God is king,
though the nations be angry; and he that sitteth on the
cherubims, though the earth be moved. Whether men will
or not, they must be subject always to the divine power.
By denying the existence, or providence of God, men may
shake off their ease, but not their yoke. But to call this
power of God, which extendeth itself not only to man, but
THE KINGDOM OF GOD
343
also to beasts, and plants, and bodies -mm^^e^ b^^^
nZe of kingdom, is but a metaphorical use of the word.
Fr he onK is p operly said to reign, that governs his
rubjects bv h s w'ord, and by promise of rewards to those
S obey it and by threatening them with punishment that
It^tni Subjects therefore in the.kingdom of G^^
are not bodies inanimate, nor creatures irrational , because
^ey understand no precepts as his: nor atW^^^^^^^^
that believe not that God has any care of ^^e actions ot
tlS: bee.. '"y^'T^'TZZZt^^-Z
have hope of his rewards or fear of his threatenmgs i y
therefore that believe there is a God that gov^^^^^^^^J^
t tand hath given precepts, and propounded^^^^^^
Td punishments to mankind, are God's subjects, all tne
t^Qt are to be understood as enemies.
"Vo rule by words, requires that -h words be ^„-
ifestly made known ; for else they are no laws : for to the
natre of laws belongeth a sufficient, and clear Prmul-
^ ion. such as may take away the excuse ^^^^J^
which in the laws of men is but of one only kind, and that
^proclamation, or promulgation by *« vou:e o^J^^^^^
nJcoA declareth his laws three ways ; by the dictates ot
Z^rt:^n, by re^.taUon, and by the --^^^^^
,„.„. to whom by the o^^Xl^^^^rii^-^^^ ^
:^T^Z:SnaLZi^^ Propnetic: to which
Trtpondeth a triple hearing; right reason sense super-
corresponaexi y supernatural, which con-
nafural, and fmth. As for sense sp
sisteth in revelation or inspiration, *ere have no
anv universal laws so given, because God ^peaketh no
m that manner but to particular persons, and to divers
•""pl'^Srence between the other two kinds of
gJs word, rational, and prophetic, there may be attnb-
■\) W fi
:ti l:
'<
m
u
h-'
Ii
y^^ LEVIATHAN
uted to God, a twofold kingdom, natural, and prophetic:
natural, wherein he govemeth as many of mankmd as
acknowledge his providence, by the natural dictates of
right reason ; and prophetic, wherein having chosen out
one peculiar nation, the Jews, for his subjects, he gov-
erned them, and none but them, not only by natural rea-
son, but by positive laws, which he gave them by the
mouths of his holy prophets. Of the natural kmgdom of
God I intend to speak in this chapter.
The right of nature, whereby God reigneth over men,
and punisheth those that break his laws, is to be derived,
not from his creating them, as if he required obedience
as of gratitude for his benefits ; but from hjsjrre^ishkle
power I have formerly shown how the sovereign right
ariiTth from pact: to show how the same right may arise
from nature, requires no more, but to show m what
case it is never taken away. Seeing all men by nature
had right to all things, they had right every one to reign
over all the rest. But because this right could not be
obtained by force, it concerned the safety of every one,
laying by that right, to set up men, with sovereign author-
ity, by common consent, to rule and defend them : whereas
if there had been any man of power irresistible, there
had been no reason, why he should not by that power have
ruled and defended both himself, and them, accordmg to
his own discretion. (To those therefore whose power is
irresistible, the dominion of all men adhereth naturally
by their excellence of power^and consequently it is from
that power, that the kingdom over men, and the right of
afflicting men at his pleasure, belongeth naturally to God
Almighty ;^ot as Creator, and gracious; but as omm-
potentO And though punishment be due for sin only,
because by that word is understood affliction for sin ; yet
THE KINGDOM OF GOD
MS
the' right of afflicting, is not always derived from men's
sin, but from God's power ^
of the Saints, concerning the 01^'"^/^"° ^^^ „f
A «itVi David (Psalm Ixxin. i, 2, 3) w f«^ ^""' '
^oorf saith Davi<^J. „„^ y,t my
Israel to '^'"''l^fJJ'J^l fadings had mll-nigh slipt;
^rZ ;S/arr-V;U i / sa. the ungo^y
• TJnZeritv And Job, how earnestly does he ex-
;riatrXSd, for t^e many afflictions he su«ere .
T^SIZ ifLld^TSd hims^'not by ar.i-
whereas the friends oi j ^^^ ^ himself by the
Ms ^-^-,*°,.f.„::;^l'if^^^^^^ taketh up the
'Tr'and h^ nglSfied the affliction by arguments
matter, ana navmg j xxxviu. 4)
drawn from h.s VO^^^fj^ ^'foundations of the
Where wast thou when [J^fJ^'l^,^ j„„^ence. and
earth? and the like, both aPF°^^<|^.J , Conform-
reproved the erroneous ^^^^^^^l^^^Jo^r, con-
'''''' ^Vtel^Tl^itXT^^^^, in these words
his soul from his body,) it follows not thence, tna
W
3l6
LEVIATHAN
could not justly have afflicted him, though he had not
sinned, as well as he afflicteth other living creatures, that
cannot sin.
Having spoken of the right of God*s sovereignty,
as grounded only on nature; we are to consider next,
wl^^t ^ re the Divine laws, or dictates of natural reason ;
which laws concern either the natural duties of one man
to another, or the honour naturally due to our Divine Sov-
ereign. The fir st are the same laws of jiatare, of^^hkh
I have spoken alrea dy in the fourteenth and fifteenth chap-
ters of this treatise; namely, equity, justice, mercy, hu-
mility, and the rest of the moral virtues. It remaineth
therefore that we consider, what precepts are dictated
to men, by their natural reason only, without other word
of God, touching the honour and worship of the Divine
Majesty.
Honour consisteth in the inward thought, and opinion
of the power, and goodness of another; and therefore
to honour God, is to think as highly of his power and
goodness, as is possible. And of that opinion, the external
signs appearing in the words and actions of men, are
called worship; which is one part of that which the Latins
understand by the word cultus. For ciiltus signifieth
properly, and constantly, that labour which a man bestows
on anything, with a purpose to make benefit by it. Now
those things whereof we make benefit, are either subject
to us, and the profit they yield, followeth the labour
we bestow upon them, as a natural effect; or they are
not subject to us, but answer our labour, according to their
own wills. In the first sense the labour bestowed on the
earth, is called culture; and the education of children, a
culture of their minds. In the second sense, where men's
wills are to be wrought to our purpose, not by force, but
by complaisance, it signifieth as much as courting, that
THE KINGDOM OF GOD
347
is, a winning of favour by good offices ; as by praises, by
acknowledging their power, and by whatsoever is pleasing
to them from whom we look for any benefit. And this is
properly worship: in which sense Publicola, is understood
for a worshipper of the people ; and cultus Dei, for the
worship of God.
From internal honour, consisting in the the opinion
of power and goodness, arise three passions ; love, which
hath reference to goodness ; and hope, and fear, that relate
to power: and three parts of external worship; praise,
magnifying, and blessing: the subject of praise, being)
goodness ; the subject of magnifying and blessing, being
power, and the effect thereof felicity. Praise, and mag-
nifying are signified both by words, and actions : by words,
when we say a man is good, or great : by actions, when
we thank him for his bounty, and obey his power. The
opinion of the happiness of another, can only be expressed
by word^.
There be some signs of honour, both in attributes and
actions, that be naturally so ; as amongst attributes, good,
just, liberal, and the like ; and amongst actions, prayers,
thanks, and obedience. Others are so by institution, or
custom of men ; and in some times and places are honour-
able ; in others, dishonourable ; in others, indifferent : such
as are the gestures in salutation, prayer, and thanksgiving,
in dift'erent times and places, differently used. The for-
mer is natural; the latter arbitrary worship.
And of arbitrary worship, there be two differences : for
sometimes it is a commanded, sometimes voluntary wor-
ship : commanded, when it is such as he requireth, who is
worshipped : free, when it is such as the worshipper thinks
fit. When it is commanded, not the words, or gesture, but
the obedience is the worship. But when free, the worship
consists in the opinion of the beholders : for if to them
348
LEVIATHAN
the words, or actions by which we intend honour, seem
ridiculous, and tending to contumely, they are no worship,
because no signs of honour; and no signs of honour,
because a sign is not a sign to him that giveth it, but to
him to whom it is made, that is, to the spectator.
Again, there is a public, and a private worship. Pub-
lic, is the worship that a commonwealth performeth, as
one person. Private, is that which a private person ex-
hibiteth. Public, in respect to the whole commonwealth,
is free; but in respect of particular men, it is not so.
Private, is in secret free ; but in the sight of the multi-
tude, it is never without some restraint, either from the
laws, or from the opinion of men ; which is contrary to
the nature of liberty.
The,,end_of_3:arship...am^ is pow er, l^or
where a man seeth another worshipped, he supposeth him
powerful, and is the readier to obey him ; which makes
his power greater. But God has no ends: the worship
we do him, proceeds from our duty, and is directed ac-
cording to our capacity, by those rules of honour, that
reason dictateth to be done by the weak to the more potent
men, in hope of benefit, for fear of damage, or in thank-
fulness for good already received from them.
That we may know what worship of God is taught us
by the light of nature, I jyill begin with his attributes .
Where, first, it is manifest, we ought to attribute to him
/ exi stenceT ^or no man can have the will to honour that,
"wliich he thinks not to have any being.
Sesondly, that those philosophers, who said the world,
or the soul of the world was God, spake unworthily of
him ; and denied his existence. For by God, is understood
1^ the cause of the worl d ; and to say the world is God, is
to say there is no cause of it, that is, no God.
-3 Thirdly, to say the world was not created, but eternal.
'HE KINGDOM OF GOD
349.
seeing that which is eternal has no cause, is to deny there
is a God-
Fourthlj:, chat they who attributing, as they think,
case to God, take from him the care of mankind; take
from him his honour : for it takes away men's love, and
fear of him ; which is the root of honour.
Fifthly', in those things that signify greatness, and
power; to say he is nnite, is not to honour him: for it
is not a sign of the will to honour God, to attribute to
him less than we can; and finite, is less than we can;
because to finite, it is easy to add more.
Therefore to attribute ngure to him, is not honour;
for all figure is finite :
Nor to say we conceive, and imagine, or have an idea
of him, in our mind : for whatsoever we conceive is finite :
Nor to attribute to him parts, or totality; which are the
attributes only of things finite :
Nor to say he is in this, or that place: for whatsoever
is in place, is bounded, and finite :
Nor that he is moved, or resteth: for both these attri-
butes ascribe to him place :
Nor that there be more Gods than one; because it
implies them all finite : for there cannot be more than one
infinite :
Nor to ascribe to him, (unless metaphorically, mean-
ing not the passion but the effect,) passions that partake
of grief; as repentance, anger, mercy: or of want; as ap-
petite, hope, desire; or of any passive faculty; for pas-
sion, is power limited by somewhat else.
And therefore when we ascribe to God a will, it is not
to be understood, as that of man, for a rational appetite;
but as the power, by which he affecteth every thing. ,
Likewise when we attribute to him sight, and other
acts of sense; as also knowledge, and understanding;
350
LEVIATHAN
which in us is nothing else, but a tumult of the mind,
raised bv external things that press the organical parts
of man's body : for there is no such thing in God ; and
being things that depend on natural causes, cannot be
attributed to him.
He that will attribute to God, nothing but what is
warranted by natural reason, must either use such neg-
ative attributes, as infinite, eterndjnc pmprehensi^ e ; or
superlatives, as most JTtglh mosTgreat^ ^nd the like; or
indefinite, as good, ]ust, holy, creator; and in such sense,
as if he meant not to declare what he is, (for that were
to circumscribe him within the limits of our fancy,) but
how much we admire him, and how ready we would be
to obey him ; which is a sign of humility, and of a will
to honour him as much as we can. For there is but one
name to signify our conception of his nature, and that is,
I AM : and but one name of his relation to us, and that is,
God; in which is contained Father, King, and Lord.
Concerning the actions of divine worship, it is a most
general precept of reason, that they be signs of the inten-
tion to honour God ; such as are, first, prayers. For not
the carvers, when they made images, were thought to
make them gods ; but the people that prayed to them.
Secondly, thanksgiving; which differeth from prayer
in divine worship, no otherwise, than that prayers precede,
and thanks succeed the benefit ; the end, both of the one
and the other, being to acknowledge God, for author
of all benefits, as well past, as future.
Thirdly, gifts, that is to say, sacrifices and oblations,
if they be of the best, are signs of honour: for they are
thanksgivings.
Fourthly, not to swear by any but God, is naturally
a sign of honour: for it is a confession that God only
knoweth the heart; and that no man's wit or strength
THE KINGDOM OF GOD
351
can protect a man against God's vengeance on the per-
jured.
Fifthly, it is a part of rational worship, to speak
considerately of God ; for it argues a fear of him, and fear
is a confession of his power. Hence followeth, that the
name of God is not to be used rashly, and to no purpose ;
for that is as much, as in vain : and it is to no purpose,
unless it be by way of oath, and by order of the common-
wealth, to make judgments certain; or between common-
wealths, to avoid war. And that disputing of God's
nature is contrary to his honour : for it is supposed, that
in this natural kingdom of God, there is no other way to
know anything, but by natural reason, that is, from the
principles of natural science ; which are so far from teach-
ing us anything of God's nature, as they cannot teach us
our own nature, nor the nature of the smallest creature
living. And therefore, when men out of the principles of
natural reason, dispute of the attributes of God, they but
dishonour him: for in the attributes which we give to
God, we are not to consider the signification of philosoph-
ical' truth; but the signification of pious intention, to
do him the greatest honour we are able. From the want
of which consideration, have proceeded the volumes of dis-
putation about the nature of God, that tend not to his
honour, but to the honour of our own wits and learning;
and are nothing else but inconsiderate and vain abuses of
his sacred name.
Sixthly, in prayers, thanksgivings, offerings, and sac-
rifices, it is a dictate of natural reason, that they be every
one in his kind the best, and most significant of honour.
As for example, that prayers and thanksgiving, be made m
words and phrases, not sudden, nor light, nor plebeian;
but beautiful, and well composed. For else we do not
God as much honour as we can. And therefore the hea-
i;
II
* I
\\>
352
LEVIATHAN
thens did absurdly, to v/orship images for gods : but their
doing it in verse, and with music, both of voice and in-
struments, was reasonable. Also that the beasts they
offered in sacrifice, and the gifts they offered, and their ac-
tions in worshipping, were full of submission, and com-
memorative of benefits received, was according to reason,
as proceeding from an intention to honour him.
Seventhly, reason directeth not only to worship God in
secret ; but also, and especially, in public, and in the sight
of men. For without that, that which in honour is most
acceptable, the procuring others to honour him, is lost.
Lastly, obedience to his laws, that is, in this case to the
laws of nature, is the greatest worship of all. For as
obedience is more acceptable to God than sacrifice; so
also to set light by his commandments, is the greatest of
all contumelies. And these are the laws of that divine
worship, which natural reason dictateth to private men.
But seeing a commonwealth is but one person, it ought
also to exhibit to God but one worship ; which then it doth,
when it commandeth it to be exhibited by private men,
publicly. And this is public worship ; the property where-
of, is to be uniform: for those actions that arc done differ-
ently, by different men. cannot be said to be a public wor-
ship. And therefore, where many sorts of worship be al-
lowed, proceeding from different religions of private men,
it cannot be said there is any public worship, nor that the
commonwealth is of any religion at all.
And because words, and consequently the attributes
•of God, have their signification by agreement and con-
stitution of men, those attributes are to be held signifi-
cative of honour, that men intend shall so be ; and what-
soever may be done by the wills of particular men, where
there is no law but reason, may be done by the will of the
commonwealth, by laws civil. And because a common-
THE KINGDOM OF GOD
3S3
Kealth hath no will, nor makes no laws, but those that are
made by the will of him, or them that have the sovereign
^wer- it foUoweth that those attributes which the sov-
S^'o daineth, in the worship of God, ^or s.gns of
honSr, ought to be taken and used for such, by pnvate
but some are naturally signs of honour, others of con-
tLr these latter, which are those that men are asham-
ed to do in the sight of them they -verence cannot be
made by human power a part of Divine worship; nor the
Trier suX as are decent, modest, humble behaviour,
v^b; separated from it. But whereas there be an in^^
Lte number of actions and gestures o an in^^^^^^^
nature; such of them as the commonwealth ^h^^/^^^^^
to be publicly and universally in use, as signs of honour
^d part of God's worship, are to be taken and used or
such by the subjects. And that which is said m the
Scripture, // is better to obey God than man, hath place
in the kingdom of God by pact, and not by ^a^ure.
Having thus briefly spoken of the natural kingdom of
God rnd his natural laws, I will add only to this chap^^^^
Hhort declaration of his natural punishments. There .s
no action of man in this life, that is not the begmnm^^^^^^^
so long a chain of consequences, as no human Providence
shih enough, to give a man a prospect to the end. And
In tht chain' there'Lre linked together^J^ ^^^^^^^^^^^
unpleasing events ; in such manner, as he that « an^^
thing for his pleasure, must engage himself to suffer
all the pains annexed to it; and these paans, are the na^-
' ura punishments of those actions, f^^^-^'.f'^J^^^^
nine of more harm than good. And hereby it comes to
;ri that intemperance is naturally puni Jed w^ d.-
Sses; rashness, with mischances; mjustice, with the
3S4
LEVIATHAN
violence of enemies; pride, with ruin; cowardice, with
oppression; negligent government of princes, with re-
bellion; and rebellion, with slaughter. For seeing pun-
ishments are consequent to the breach of laws; natural
punishments must be naturally consequent to the breach
of the laws of nature ; and therefore follow them as their
natural, not arbitrary effects.
And thus far concerning the constitution, nature, and
right of sovereigns, and concerning the duty of sub-
jects, derived from the principles of natural reason. And
now, considering how different this doctrine is, from the
practice of the greatest part of the world, especially of
these western parts, that have received their moral learn-
ing from Rome and Athens; and how much depth of
moral philosophy is required, in them that have the ad-
ministration of the sovereign power ;|r^m at the point of
believing this my labour, as useless, as the commonwealth /
of Plato. For he also is of opinion that it is impossible ^
for the disorders of state, and change of governments
by civil war, ever to be taken away, till sovereigns
be philosophersH But when I consider again, that the
science of natural justice, is the only science necessary
for sovereigns and their principal ministers ; and that they
need not be charged with the sciences mathematical, as
by Plato they are, farther than by good laws to encourage
men to the study of them; and that neither Plato, nor
any other philosopher hitherto, hath put into order, and
sufficiently or probably proved all the theorems of moral
doctrine, that men mav learn thereby, both how to gov-
ern, and how to obey /j recover some hope, that one time V/
or other, this writing ol mine may fall into the hands of
a sovereign, who will consider it himself, ( for it is short,
and I think clear,) without the help of any interested,
or envious interpreter; and by the exercise of entire
THE KINGDOM OF GOD
35S
sovereignty, in protecting the public teaching of it,
convert this trtith of speculation, into the utility of
practiccTl
f
>
CHAPTER XLIII.
OF WHAT IS NECESSARY FOR A MAN's RECEPTION INTO
THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN.
The most frequent pretext of sedition, and civil war, in
Christian commonwealths, hath a long time proceeded
from a difficulty, not yet sufficiently resolved, of obeying
at once both God and man, then when their command-
ments are one contrary to the other. It is manifest
enough, that when a man receiveth two contrary com-
mands, and knows that one of them is God's, he ought
to obey that, and not the other, though it be the command
even of his lawful sovereign (whether a monarch, or a
sovereign assembly), or the command of his father.
The difficulty therefore consisteth in this, that men,
when they are commanded in the name of God, know
not in divers cases, whether the command be from God,
or whether he that commandeth do but abuse God*s name
for some private ends of his own. For as there were in
the Church of the Jews, many false prophets, that sought
reputation with the people, by feigned dreams and vis-
ions; so there have been in all times in the Church of
Christ, false teachers, that seek reputation with the peo-
ple, by fantastical and false doctrines ; and by such repu-
tation, (as is the nature of ambition), to govern them
for their private benefit.
But this difficulty of obeying both God and the civil
sovereign on earth, to those that can distinguish be-
tween what is necessary, and what is not necessary for
their reception into the kingdom of God, is of no mo-
ment. For if the_oommandoft he civil sovereign be suc h,
as that it may be obeved without the forfeiture of life
,
WHAT NECESSARY TO SALVATION 357
^t pmal: not to obey it is u njust; and the precept of the
^pSidetakes place: Servants obey your masters m all
things; and Children obey your parents tn all things;
and the precept of our Saviour, The Scribes and Phari-
sees sit in Moses' chair; all therefore they shall say, thca
obsen'e and do. But if the command be such as cannot be
obeved, without being damned to eternal death ; then it
were madness to obey it, and the council of our Saviour
takes place, {Matth. x. 28), Fear not those that kill the
body, but cannot kill the soul. All men therefore that
would avoid, both the punishments that are to be m this
world inflicted, for disobedience to their earthly sove-
reign, and those that shall be inflicted in the world to
come, for disobedience to God, h^ve need be taught to
distinguish well between what is, and what is not neces-
sary to eternal salvation. ...»
/ All that is NECESSARY to salvation, is contamed in two
virtues, faith in Christ, and obedience to laws. The lat-
ter of these, if it were perfect, were enough to us. But
because we are all guilty of disobedience to God's law,
not only originally in Adam, but also actually by our own
transgressions, there is required at our hands now.jipt
onl yobedience for the rest of our time, hiLaho-^mnis-
sion of sins for the time pa st ; which remission is the re-
ward of our faith in Christ. That nothing else is neces-
sarily required to salvation, is manifest from this, that
the kingdom of heaven is shut to none but to sinners;
that is to say, to the disobedient, or transgressors of the
law ; nor to them, in case they repent, and believe all the
articles of Christian faith necessary to salvation.
• The obedience required at our hands by God, that
accepteth in all our actions the will for the deed is a
serious endeavour to obey him; and is called also by all
such names as signify that endeavour. And therefore obe-
s<
it
¥
358
LEVIATHAN
dience is sometimes called by the names of chanty and
love, because they imply a will to obey ; and our Saviour
himself maketh our love to God, and to one another, a
fulfilling of the whole law : and sometimes by the name of
righteousness; for righteousness is but the will to give
to every one his own ; that is to say, the will to obey the
laws: and sometimes by the name of repentance; be-
cause to repent, implieth a turning away from sin, which
is the same with the return of the will to obedience.
Whosoever therefore unfeignedly desireth to fulfill the
commandments of God, or repenteth him truly of his
transgressions, or that loveth God with all his heart,
and his neighbour as himself, hath all the obedience
necessary to his reception into the kingdom of God. For
if God should require perfect innocence, there could no
flesh be saved.
But what commandments are those that God hath giv-
en us ? Are all those laws which were given to the Jews
by the hand of Moses, the commandments of God? If
they be, why ►are not Christians taught to obey them? If
they be not, what others are so, besides the law of nature ?
For our Saviour Christ hath not given us new laws, but
counsel to observe those we are subject to; that is to say,
the laws of nature, and the laws of our several sove-
reigns : nor did he make any new law to the Jews in his
sermon on the Mount, but only expounded the law of
Moses, to which they were subject before. The laws
of God there fore a re none b utt he laws of nature , whereoi
the principal is, that we should not violate our faith,
that is, a commandment to obey our civil sovereigns,
which we constituted over us by mutual pact one with
another. And^is law of God, that commandeth obe-
dience to the law civil, commandeth by conseqence obe-
dience to all the precepts of the BibleT/which, as I have
WHAT NECESSARY TO SALVATION 359
proved in the precedent chapter, is there only law, where
the civil sovereign hath made it so; and in other pUcc^,
but counsel ; which a man at his own penl may withouc
injustice refuse to obey.
^ Knowing now what is the obedience necessary to
salvation, and to whom it is due ; we are to con^der nex
concerning faith, whom, and why we beheve ; and what
are the articles, or points necessary to be beheved by
Sem that shall be saved. And first, for the person
whl we believe, because it is impossible to beheve
Tny person, before we know what he saith, .t is necessanr
he be le ^hat we have heard speak The Pe-on th^^-
fore whom Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, and the pro-
phets, believed, was God himself, that spake unto them
suDernaturally : and the person, whom the apostles and
Se that' conversed with Christ believed, -s our
Saviour himself. But of them, to whom neUher ^d
the father, nor our Saviour, ever spake, rt ca^t be^^
that the person whom they believed, was God. Ihey
£Led fhe apostles, and after them f ^ Pajors and
doctors of the Church, that recommended to the^r jaith
the history of the Old and New Testament : so that^ti^e
faith of Christians ever since our Sav.ours tune hath
had for foundation, first, the reputation of their pastors
and afterward, the authority of those that made the Old
and New Testament to be received for the rule of faith
^hich none could do but Christian sovereigns; who are
Therefore the supreme pastors, and the only Pe-o- -ho-
Christians now hear speak from God; except such as
God speaketh to in these days supernaturally. But be
cause there be many false prophets gone out ^noth^
u'orld, other men are to examine such spirits, as St John
advis^th us. (ist Epistle iv. i) whether they he ofGod^
or not. And therefore, seeing the examination of doc
i|
4 «
36o
LEVIATHAN
trines beloneth to the supreme pastor, the person, which
all they that have no special revelation are to believe, is,
in every commonwealth, the supreme pastor, that is to
say, the civil sovereig n.
The causes why men believe any Christian doctrine,
are various. For faith is the gift of God ; and he worketh
it in each several man, by such ways as it seemeth good
unto himself. The most ordinary immediate cause of our
belief, concerning any point of Christian faith, is, that
we believe the Bible to be the word of God. But why
we believe the Bible to be the word of God, is much dis-
puted, as all questions must needs be, that are not well
stated. For they make not the question to be, why we
believe it, but, how we knoiv it; as if believing and know-
ing were all one. And thence while one side ground their
knowledge upon the infallibility of the Church, the other
side, on the testimony of the private spirit, neither side
concludeth what it pretends. For how shall a man know
the infallibility of the Church, but by knowing first the
infallibility of Jthe Scripture ? Or how shall a man know
his own private spirit to be other than a belief, grounded
upon the authority and arguments of his teachers, or
upon a presumption of his own gifts? Besides, there is
nothing in the Scripture, from which can be inferred the
infallibility of the Church ; much less, of any particular
Church ; and least of all, the infallibility of any particular
man.
It is manifest therefore, that Christian men do not
know, but only believe the Scripture to be the word of
God ; and that the means of making them believe, which
God is pleased to afford men ordinarily, is according to
the way of nature, that is to say, from their teachers. It is
the doctrine of St. Paul concerning Christian faith in gen-
eral {Rom. X. 17), Faith cometh by hearing, that is, by
WHAT NECESSARY TO SALVATION
361
hearing our lawful pastors. He saith also, (verses 14, 15,
of the same chapter), How^shall they believe m htm of
whom they have not heard? and how shall they hear with-
out a preacher? and how shall they preach, except they be
sent? Whereby it is evident, that the ordinary cause of
believing that the Scriptures are the word of God, is the
same with the cause of the believing of all other articles
of our faith, namely, the hearing of those that are by the
law allowed and appointed to teach us, as our parents
in their houses, and our pastors in the churches Which
also is made more manifest by experience. For what
other cause can there be assigned, why in Christian com-
monwealths all men either believe, or at least profess
the Scripture to be the word of God, and in other com-
monwealths scarce any; but that in Christian common-
wealths they are taught it from their infancy; and m
other places they are taught otherwise?
But if teaching be the cause of faith, why do not all
believe^ It is certain therefore that faith is the gift of
God, and he giveth it to whom he will. Nevertheless,
because to them to whom he giveth it, he giveth it by
the means of teachers, the immediate cause of faith is
hearing. In a school, where many are taught, and some
profit, others profit not, the cause of learnmg m them
that profit, is the master; yet it cannot be thence mf erred,
that learning is not the gift of God. All good things pro-
ceed from God ; yet cannot all that have them, say they
are inspired; for that implies a gift supernatural and
the immediate hand of God ; which he that pretends to,
pretends to be a prophet, and is subject to the examin-
ation of the Church. .
Brt whether mtnknow,OT believe, or grant the Scrip-
tures to be the word of God; if out of such places of
them, as are without obscurity. I shall show what articles
362
LEVIATHAN
WHAT NECESSARY TO SALVATION
363
of faith are necessary, and only necessary for salvation,
those men must needs knozv, believe, or grant the same.
The unum necessarium, only article of fait h, which
the Scripture maketh simply necessary to salvation^J is-
this, thatjESusjsj:H£jCHRi^ By the name of Christ
IS understood the king, which God had before promised
by the prophets of the Old Testament, to send into the
world, to reign (over the Jews, and over such of other
nations as should believe in him), under himself eternally ;
and to give them that eternal life, which was lost by the
sin of Adam. Which when I have proved out of Scrip-
ture, I will further show when, and in what sense, some
other articles may be also called necessary.
But a man may here ask, whether it be not as nec-
essary to salvation, to believe, that God is omnipotent;
Creator of the world ; that Jesus Christ is risen ; and that
all men else shall rise again from the dead at the last day ;
as to believe that Jesus is the Christ. To which I answer,
they are; and so are many more articles: but they are
such, as are contained in this one, and may be deduced
from it, with more or less difficulty. For who is there
that does not see, that they who believe Jesus to be the
Son of the God of Israel, and that the Israelites had for
God the Omnipotent Creator of all things, do therein also
believe, that God is the Omnipotent Creator of all things ?
Or how can a man believe, that Jesus is the king that shall
reign eternally, unless he believe him also risen again from
the dead? For a dead man cannot exercise the office of
a king. In sum, he that holdeth this foundation, Jesus
is the Christ, holdeth expressly all that he seeth rightly
deduced from it, and implicitly all that is consequent
thereunto, though he have not skill enough to discern the
consequence. And therefore it holdeth still good, that
the belief of this one article is sufficient faith to obtain
remission of sins to the penitent, and consequently to bring
them into the kingdom of heaven.
Seeing then it is necessary that faith and obedience,
implied in the word repentance, do both concur to our
salvation; the question by which of the two we are jus-
tified, is impertinently disputed. Nevertheless, it will
not be impertinent, to make manifest in what manner
each of them contributes thereunto; and in what sense
it is said, that we are to be justified by the one, and by
the other. And first, if by righteousness be understood
the justice of the works themselves, there is no man that
can be saved ; for there is none that hath not transgressed
the law of God. And therefore when we are said to be
justified by works, it is to be understood of the will,
which God doth ah^ays accept for the work itself, as
well in good, as in evil men. And in this sense only
it is, that a man is called just, or unjust; and that his
justice justifies him, that is, gives him the title, in God's
acceptation, of just; and renders him capable of living by
his faith, which before he was not. So that justice jus-
tifies in that sense, in which to justify, is the same as that
to denominate a man just; and not in the signification of
discharging the law; whereby the punishment of his
sins should be unjust.
But a man is then also said to be justified, when his
plea, though in itself insufficient, is accepted; as when
we plead our will, our endeavour to fulfil the law, and
repent us of our failings, and God accepteth it for the
performance itself. And because God accepteth not the
will for the deed, but only in the faithful ; it is therefore
tl
yn
LEVIATHAN
faith that makes good our plea ; and in this sense it is,
that faith only justifies. So that faith and obedience zrt
both necessary to salvation ; yet in several senses each of
them is said to justify. .
Having thus shown what is necessary to salvation;
it is not hard to reconcile our obedience to God, with
our obedience to the civil sovereign ; who is either Oins-
tian, or infidel. If he be a Christian, he alloweth the belief
of this article, that Jesus is the Christ; and of all the
articles that are contained in, or are by evident conse-
qaence deduced from it: which is all the faith necessary
to salvation. And because he is a sovereign, he requir-
eth obedience to all his own, that is, to all the civil laws;
in which also are contained all the laws of nature, that
is all the laws of God : for besides the laws of nature, and
the laws of the Church, which are part of the civil law,
(for the Church that can make laws is the common-
wealth), there be no other laws divine. Whosoever
therefore obey^th his Christian sovereign, is not thereby
hindered, neither from believing, nor from obeying God.
But suppose that a Christian king should from this foun-
dation Jesus is the Christ, draw some false consequences,
that is to say, make some superslructions of hay or stub-
ble, and command the teaching of the same; yet seeing
St Paul says he shall be saved ; much more shall he be
saved, that teacheth them by his command; and much
more yet, he that teaches not, but only believes his lawful
teacher. And in case a subject be forbidden by the
civil sovereign to profess some of those his opinions, upon
what just ground can he disobey? Christian kings may
err in deducing a consequence, but who shall judge? Shall
a private man judge, when the question is of his own
obedience? Or shall any man judge but he that is ap-
pointed thereto by the Church, that is, by the civil sov-
WHAT NECESSARY TO SALVATION
365:
ereign that representeth it? Or if the pope, or an apostle
judge, may he not err in deducing of a consequence?
Did not one of the two, St. Peter or St. Paul, err in a
superstructure, when St. Paul withstood St. Peter to his
face? There can tli^rpfnre jy no contradiction be twegL..
the la ws oll^^od, anOETlaws of a Christian_common -
wealth* . ^^ ,
And when the civil sovereign is an infidel, every one
of his own subjects that resisteth him, sinneth against
the laws of God, (for such are the laws of nature), and
rejecteth the counsel of the apostles, that admonisheth
all Christians to obey their princes, and all children and
servants to obey their parents and masters in all things.
And for their faith, it is internal, and invisible ; they have
the license that Naaman had, and need not put themselves
into danger for it. But if they do, they ought to expect
their reward in heaven, and not complain of their lawful
sovereign ; much less make war upon him. For he that is
not glad of any just occasion of martyrdom, has not the
faith he professeth, but pretends it only, to set some colour
upon his own contumacy. But what infidel king is so
unreasonable, as knowing he has a subject, that waiteth
for the second coming of Christ, after the present world
shall be burnt, and intendeth then to obey him, (which
is the intent of believing that Jesus is the Christ,) and in.
the mean time thinketh himself bound to obey the laws of
that infidel king, (which all Christians are obliged m
conscience to do), to put to death or to persecute such
a subject?*
*Comoare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II. 3i4)- "By
what hXbeen said hitherto, it will be easy to discern what the
Itil^ of Christian subjects is towards their sovereigns; who, as
foni as thryprofess' themselves Christians,, cannot command
thefr subject^s to deny Christ, or to offer him any contumely.
il
' f
'4
3»
LEVIATHAN
And thus much shall suffice, concerning the kingdom
of God, and policy ecclesiastical. Wherein I pretend not
to advance any position of my own, but only to show what
are the consequences that seem to me deducible from the
principles of Christian politics, (which are the holy Scrip-
tures ) in confirmation of the power of civil sovereigns,
and the duty of their subjects. And in the allegation
of Scripture, I have endeavoured to avoid such texts
as are of obscure or controverted interpretation ; and to
allege none, but in such sense as is most plain, and agree-
able to the harmony and scope of the whole Bible ; which
for if they should command this, they would profess themselves
o be no^hristians. For seeing we have showed, both by nat-
ural reason and out of holy Scriptures, that ^objects ought m
all thines to obey their princes and governors, excepting those
which are contrary to the command of God; and that the com-
Snds of God, in a Christian city, concerning »^m/.of a/ affam.
r^t U Jo «v those which are to be discussed by human reason,
arfthe Uws'knd senTence of the city, delivered from those wto
have recehJ^d authority from, the city to -"^^^elaws and judge
^^rslrTto^-ti^sTb? rS "^p^^Bi
^r-'T a°nV^Vhli^ch*''« '* ** ^^•\« th^rrl;; &),
S'ed by Vs^'r s^awf"Jl* ordained, and who have to that end
authority given them by the city ; it mamfestly follows, that in
rSaf commonweal obedience is d"^*" ^^^^'/.^^^Xd
tliincre as well sbirituol as temporal. And that the same ooeai
ence Venll a Sian subject, is due in al temporal mat^
« Oiristian
interpreters of holy Scriptures. But what? Mu^t.^^.'^'/'?'
princes, when we cannot obey them? Truly, no, for this is
contrfrV to our civil covenant. What must we do then? Go
to Christ by martyrdom: which if it seem to any man to be a
hard sK most certain it is that he believes not .with his
whole ™ that Jesus is the Christ the son of *l^ ^^^^od;
for he would then desire to be dissolved, and to be with Chnst ,
but he w°uld b^a feigtied Christian faith elude that obedience,
which he hath contracted to yield unto the aty.
WHAT NECESSARY TO SALVATION
367
-
was written for the re-establishment of the kingdom of
God in Christ. For it is not the bare words, but the scope
of the writer, that giveth the true Hght, by which any writ-
ing is to be interpreted ; and they that insist upon single
texts, without considering the main design, can derive
nothing from them clearly ; but rather by casting atoms
of Scripture, as dust before men's eyes, make every thing
more obscure than it is ; an ordinary artifice of those that
seek not the truth, but their own advantage.
CONXLUSION .
369
A REVIEW AND CONCLUSION.
From the contrariety of some of the natural faculties of
the mind, one to another, as also of one passion to another,
and from their reference to conversation, there has been
an argument taken, to infer an impossibility that any
one man should be sufficiently disposed to all sorts of
civil duty. The severity of judgment, they say, makes
men censorious, and unapt to pardon the errors and m-
firmities of other men: and on the other side, celerity -f
fancy, makes the thoughts less steady than is necessary,
to discern exactly between right and wrong. Again, in
all deliberations, and in all pleadings, the faculty of solid
reasoning is necessary : for without it, the resolutions
of men are rash, and their sentences unjust: and yet if
there be not powerful eloquence, which procureth atten-
tion and consent.- the effect of reason will be little. But
these are contrary faculties ; the former being grounded
upon principles of truth; the other upon opinions already
received, true or false ; and upon the passions and interests
of men, which are diflferent, and mutable.
And amongst the passions, courage, (by which I mean
the contempt of wounds, and violent death) inclmeth
men to private revenges, and sometimes to endeavour
the unsettling of the public peace: and Hmorousness,
many times disposeth to the desertion of the public de-
fence. Both these, they say, cannot stand together m
the same person. , ■ • a
And to consider the contrariety of men s opmions, and
manners, in general, it is, they say, impossible to entertain
a constant civil amity with all those, with whom the
business of the world constrains us to converse : which
business consisteth almost in nothing else but a perpetual
contention for honour, riches, and authority
To which I answer, that these are indeed great diffi-
t^ SancT-; have place in the same man -b.
by turns ; as the end which he aimeth at ;«!">«*• ^^J
Israelites in Eg)'pt. were sometimes fastened to their
Sbou of makifg bricks, and other times were ..ngmg
Xoad to gather straw: so also may the judgment some-
toes btfi^ed upon one certain consideration, and Ae
?aTcy at another'time wandering about the world. So
S^reason, and eloquence, though -t pe«^aps m *
natural sciences, yet. in the moral, may ^t^J^/^jy^^"
together For wheresoever there is place for adorning
S preferring of error, there is much more place for
Sorn'ng and preferring of truth, if they have it to ado™
Mnr is Aere any repugnancy between fearing the aws,
fnd n^t SrinTa pub£ enemy; nor between abj«
from injury, and pardoning it in others. There is there
f^no such incon^stence of human nature, w'th"vd ju-
ries as some think. I have known clearness of ifs^^'f'
SlargLss-of fancy; strength of -on ^rui gi^cdu^
elocution • a courage for the war, and a fear for the laws
aS "imminently in one man ; and that was my most noble
a^d hLred friend, Mr. Sidney Godolphin ; who hating
no Z nor hated of any, was unfortunate y slam in the
SgTnlg of the late civil war, in the public quarrel, by
an undiscemed and an undiscerning hand
T^ tiip T aws of Nature. declaredm_Uiagt£r,x¥:__i_
wouirSnrsad^dlXT^^Jo^^^ ".f «7'
rS^^OTnTT^ffi, to protect in war the authorrty by
ZZhTis himself protected in time of peace. For he
That pretendeth a right of nature to preserve his own body.
[
370
LEVIATHAN
CONCLUSION
m
cannot pretend a right of nature to destroy him, by whose
strength he is preserved : it is a manifest contradiction of
himself. And though this law may be drawn by conse-
quence, from some of those that are there already men-
tioned ; yet the times require to have it inculcated, and
remembered.
And because I find by divers English books lately
printed, that the civil wars have not yet sufficiently taught
men in what point of time it is, that a subject becomes
obliged to the conqueror ; nor what is conquest ; nor how
it comes about, that it obliges men to obey his laws : there-
fore for further satisfaction of men therein, I say, the
point of time, wherein a man becomes subject to a con-
queror, is that point, wherein having liberty to submit
to him, he consenteth, either by express words, or by other
sufficient sign, to be his subject. When it is that a man
hath the liberty to submit, I have showed before in the
end of Chapter xxL ; namely, that for him that hath no
obligation to his former sovereign but that of an ordinary
subject, it is then, when the means of his life are within
the guards and garrisons of the enemy ; for it is then, that
he hath no longer protection from him, but is protected by
the adverse party for his contribution. Seeing therefore
such contribution is every where, as a thing inevitable,
notwithstanding it be an assistance to the enemy, esteemed
lawful ; a total submission, which is but an assistance to
the enemy, cannot be esteemed unlawful. Besides, if
a man consider that they who submit, assist the enemy but
with part of their estates, whereas they that refuse, assist
him with the whole, there is no reason to call their sub-
mission, or composition, an assistance ; but rather a detri-
ment to the enemy. But if a man, besides the obligation
of a subject, hath taken upon him a new obligation of
a soldier, then he hath not the liberty to submit to a new
power, as long as the old one keeps the field, and givetb
him means of subsistence, either in his armies, or gar-
risons: for in this case, he cannot complain of want of
protection, and means to live as a soldier. But when that
also fails, a soldier also may seek his protection where-
soever he has most hope to have it; and may lawfully
submit himself to his new master. And so much for the
time when he may do it lawfully, if he will. If therefore
he do it, he is undoubtedly bound to be a true subject: for
a contract lawfully made, cannot lawfully be broken.
By this also a man may understand, when it is, that
men mav be said to be conquered ; and in what the nature
of conquest, and the right of a conqueror consisteth: for
this submission in itself implieth them alL^nques^s^
the victorvitselfibuUheacqu^^
over thepersons oG^^^^T^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^ '^ ^^^^^^ ^'
o-^ome,but noT^SSiSiTed :he that is taken, and put into
prison, or chains, is not conquered, though overcome; for
he is still an enemy, and may save himself if he can: but
he that upon promise of obedience, hath his life and liberty
allowed him, is then conquered, and a subject; and not
before The Romans used to say, that their general had
pacined such a province, that is to say, in English, con-
quered it; and that the country was pacxHed by victory,
when the people of it had promised imperatafa^ere, that
is to do what the Roman people commanded them: tms
was to be conquered. But this promise may be either ex-
press, or tacit: express, by promise: tacit, by other signs.
As for example, a man that hath not been called to make
such an express promise, because he is one whose power
perhaps is not considerable; yet if he live under their pro-
tection openly, he is understood to submit himself to the
government: but if he live there secretly, he is liable to
anything that may be done to a spy, and enemy of the
37J LEVIATHAN
state. I say not, he does any injustice; for acts of open
hostility bear not that name; but that he may be justly
put to death. Likewise, if a man, when his country is
conquered, be out of it, he is not conquered, nor subject:
but if at his return, he submit to the government, he is
bound to obey it. So that conquest, to define it, is the ac-
quiring of the right of sovereignty by victory. Which
right, is acquired in the people^s submission, by which they
contract with the victor, promising obedience for life and
liberty.
In Chapter xxix, I have set down for one of the causes
of the dissolutions of commonwealths, their imperfect
generation, consisting in the want of an absolute and
arbitrary legislative power; for want whereof, the civil
sovereign is fain to handle the sword of justice uncon-
stantly, and as if it were too hot for him to hold. One
reason whereof, which I have not there mentioned, is this,
that they will all of them justify the war, by which their
power was at first gotten, and whereon, as they think,
their right dependeth, and not on the possession. As if,
for example, the right of the kings of England did depend
on the goodness of the cause of William the Conqueror,
and lipon their lineal, and directest descent from him ; by
which means, there would perhaps be no tie of the sub-
jects' obedience to their sovereign at this day in all the
world: wherein whilst thy needlessly think to justify
themselves, they justify all the successful rebellions that
ambition shall at any time raise against them, and their
successors. Therefore I put down for one of the most
effectual seeds of the death of any state, that the conquer-
ors require not only a submission of men's actions to them
for the future, but also an approbation of all their actions
past ; when there is scarce a commonwealth in the world,
whose beginnings can in conscience be justified.
CONCLUSION
373
11
t
And because the name of tyranny, signifieth nothing
„..r l«s than the name of sovereignty, be it m
more, nor less, than tne ^^^^^
one, or --^ -^"'JH/bl ^gry' S them they call
r/a^l rhtrrtr^oVa professed hatred of
vrannv is a toleration of hatred to commonwealth m
lenS' and another evil seed, not differing much from
fhe former. For to the justification of the cause of a
cona«er"r the reproach of the cause of the conquered, .s
S: most part Lessary : but "either of them nec^^^^^^
for the obligation of the conquered. A"^ *hus much 1
have thought fit to say upon the review of the first
second part of this discourse. , . , a „„» „*
In Chapter xxxv, I have sufficiently declared out of
the Scripture that in the commonwealth of the Jews. God
tSZ made the sovereign, by P-^ with.he Peop^^^^^
who were therefore called his pecuhar people, to d.stm
edsh them from the rest of the world, over whom God
fd>„nT^.S ttir.; Hr- \
S inlt% - -a, ^h, .a„^ in ,»^
tion are not of /acf, but oi^i > ^,^ ^^,.
place for wttrusses. There is scarce any
ers that contradicteth not sometimes both himseit an
378
' LEVIATHAN ^ /^V^t^^^t^W/^
Others ; which makes their testimonies insuflficient. Fourth-
ly, such opinions as are taken only upon credit of antiqui-
ty, are not intrinsically the judgment of those that cite
them, but words that pass, like gaping, from mouth to
mouth. Fifthly, it is many times with a fraudulent design
that men stick their corrupt doctrine with the cloves of
other men's wit. Sixthly, I find not that the ancients they
cite, took it for an ornament, to do the like with those
that wrote before them. Seventhly, it is an argument of
indigestion, when Greek and Latin sentences unchewed
come up again, as they used to do, unchanged. Lastly,
though I reverence those men of ancient time, that either
have written truth perspicuously, or set us in a better
way to find it out ourselves; yet to the antiquity it-
self I think nothing due. For if we will reverence the
age, the present is the oldest. If the antiquity of the
writer, I am not sure, that generally they to whom such
honour is given, were more ancient when they wrote,
than I am that am writing. But if it be well considered,
the praise of ancient authors, proceeds not from the rev-
erence of the dead, but from the competition, and mutual
envy of the living.
To conclude, <^Wj> fc nr>tViingr in fhis ^yholgjiigg^m'Sg'
nor in that I writ before of the same subject in Latin, as
far as I can perceive, cont rarv either to the Word,^
^d, or tq ^gQQd.jT ia:
public tr^nqir'lity Thf ^^^^^^ T th^':;;]fj^j^v hfT^ofit-
ably printed , and more profitably taught In iheUni-
versities, in case they also think so, to whom the judg-
ment of the same belongeth. For seeing the Universities
are the fountains of civil and moral doctrine, from whence
the preachers, and the gentry, drawing such water as
they find, use to sprinkle the same (both from the pul-
pit and in their conversation), upon the people, there
t^w
^^P
/
VJ
CONCLUSION
379
ought certainly to be great care taken, to have it pure,
both from the venom of heathen politicians, and from the
incantation of deceiving spirits. And by that means
the most men, knowing their duties, will be the less sub-
ject to serve the ambition of a few discontented per-
sons, in their purposes against the state; and be the less
grieved with the contributions necessary for their peace,
and defence; and the governors themselves have the
less cause, to maintain at the common charge any great-
er army, than is necessary to make good the public lib-
erty, against the invasions and encro«ichments of foreign
enemies.
And thus I have brought to an end jny Discou rse of
Civil and Ecclesiastical Government, occasioned hy the
disorders o f the present t ime, without partiality, without
application, and without other desi^ than to set before
in en's eyes the mutual relation between protection and
obedience ; of which the condition of human nature,
and the laws divine, both natural and positive, require an
inviolable observation. And though in the revolution of
states, there can be no very good constellation for truths
of this nature to be born under, (as having an angry
aspect from the dissolvers of an old government, and
seeing but the backs of them that erect a new), yet I
cannot think it will be condemned at this time, either by
the public judge of doctrine, or by any that desires the
continuance of public peace. And in this hope I^j ;etum^
t g^my interrupted speculation of bodies natural : wherein,
if God give me health to finish it, I hope the novelty
will as much please, as in the doctrine of this artificial
body it useth to offend. For such truth, as opposeth
no man's profit, nor pleasure, is to all men welcome.
t
INDEX
Note: References to the Notes usually include the text.
Abstract names, 26n., 28f ., 127.
Abstraction, accidents not capable
of, 29f.
definition of, 30,
Absurdity, causes of, 136.
definition of, 135, 191.
in reasoning. 24.
like injustice, 254, 295.
Accidents, abstraction of. impos-
sible, 29f.
but apparitions, 100.
causes of conceptions and name«,
29.
contingent, 61n.
definition of, 29. 42n.
method or seeking, 55f.
Action, and passion, mediate and
immediate, 57n.
definition and description of, 57n.
Indifferent, instituted as signs or
honor, 15n., 353.
voluntary, 159.
Addition and subtraction In
thought, 4f.
Admiration, 155.
Afllrmation. errors in, 39f.
Agent, definition of, 57n.f.
Ambition, 154.
Anger, 154.
Angles, doctrine of, excluded from
philosophy, 10.
Animal spirits, 93.
Antecedent of a proposition. 27f,
33n.
Antiquity, reverence for 377f.
Apparent, sometimes opposed to
true. 31.
Appearances, and effects, 6, 61n.
and things themselves, 55.
definition of, 3n.
equivalents of, 94.
of sense determined by motion.
53.
Appellations. 19f. Bte Names,
alone universal. 21.
arbitrary, 19.
equivocal, 22.
Appetite, definition of, 143n.. 145,
inborn, 146.
Arbitrators, 290, 305.
Aristotle. 44, 73n., 85, 148n., 150n.,
302, 321.
Arts, demonstrable and indemon-
strable, 71n.
greatest commodities of mankind,
8.
Astrology, excluded from philoso-
phy, 11.
Authority, 314.
of God, derived from his power,
344.
Authors, 314f.
Axioms, of Euclid. 66.
Belief, 175, 177n.
Benevolence, 154.
Blushing, 157.
582
INDEX
Body, abstract names and the
properties of, 30f.
accidents of, 30, 65. See Acci-
dent.
action of, on each other, 57n.
definition of, 29, 41n.
fireneration of. the subject of
philosophy, 10.
kinds of, llf.
motion from lucid, 98.
Causation, general doctrine of,
56f., 57n.f., 218.
Cause, definition of, 56f, 57n.
efiacient, 35. 68n., 62n.
entire, &8n.
false. 74f.
first, how far discoverable, 62n.,
218.
formal, 35, 62n.
how one proposition is cause of
another, 34f.
material, 58n.
method of seeking the, 55f.
necessary. 57n., 59n., 61n., 167,
169.
of the whole. 48, 49.
of the i^ccession of conceptions,
18f.
partial, 58n.
universal cause motion, 50f.
Causes, demonstration possible
only when causes are known,
71n.
diversity of effects, 60n,
highest and most universal. 50.
ignorance of, 213f.
like effects produced by like, 60n.
of a commonwealth, 319f.
of conceptions and names, 28, 29.
of concrete names denoted by
abstract names, 29.
of things, demonstration of, the
aim of science, 67 72n.
of universal and singular things,
how known, 49f.
philosophy the knowldege of, 2,
46.
science of, 46f.
Caveats, of concluding from ex»
perience, 118n.
Chance, 61n.
Charity, 154.
Children, not endowed with rea-
son. 138.
Cogitation, error of, 40.
Cogitations, names signs of, 17f.,
18n.
Color, and light. 99.
cause of, 98f.
not in object. 99.
Commonwealth, an artificial man,
81f.
causes of, 319f.
definition of. llf., 828.
how subjects are released from
obligation to, 326n.
outline of discussion, 82.
when Instituted, 325f.
Complaisance, 286, 299.
Composition, method of, 47, 61.
Computation, definition of, 4f.
use of abstract names in, 30f.
Conceptions, clear and obscure,
104n.
coherence of, how recalled, 24.
definition, the explication of, 61.
generations or descriptions of,
51.
how compounded, 5f,
many of the same thing, 20.
names of. 20.
names signs of, 17f., 18n., 19f.
necessity of marks for, 14.
succession of, 18f.
their limitations. 119.
words to which none corres-
ponds, 25.
Conclusion, according to and a-
galnst reason, 24.
how it follows from premises.
34f., 36f.
of a syllogism, 36f.
Confess, definition of, 32n.
Confidence, 154.
Connexion, of names, divers kinds
of speech arising from, 26.
signs of, in a proposition. 27f.
Conquest, 372.
INDEX
383
Conscience, 174n.
Consequence, In propositions, 32f.
or repugnance, names showing,
ISn.
Consequent, or predicate of a
proposition, 27f., 33n.
Consider, definition of, 6.
Construction, petitions or postulata
principles of, 67.
Contempt. 146.
Contingency, a defect in knowl-
edge. 170.
Contingent, 61n., 170.
Contract, cannot be annulled by
consent of contractors, 329i:k.
definition of, 256, 270.
in general, 251f.
obligation derived from, 254n.
signs of, 257.
when invalid. 274f.
See Covenant.
Controversy, importance of defi-
nitions In, 69.
Contumely, 287. 301.
Copula, abstract names proceed
from. 30.
fallacies arising from, 43.
Copulation, in propositions, 18n.,
27f.. 41f., 43.
Courage, 154.
Covenant, definition of. 256, 270.
how dissolved, 261, 273.
how enforced, 259f.
kept thorugh fear, 263f.
not Invalid if made through fear,
262, 273.
when void, 262f.
with whom not made. 260. 272.
See Contract.
Covetousness. 154.
Craft, 182.
Crime, 236n.
Cruelty, 157, 287, 301.
Curiosity, definition of, 155.
its relation to philosophy, 155.
Deceptions, of the senses. 25.
Defect, names signifying, 20.
Definition, every proposition uni-
versally true IS a, 43.
falsity of propositions detected
by. 42f.
first beginning of teaching phil-
osophy, 70.
from philosophia prima, 12n., 72n.
genus and difference in, 68.
nature and definition of, 67f, 68ni.
of same name when different,
70.
only way to know is by, 65n.
properties of, 69r.
should express cause when pos-
sible, 66f., 67n.
true demonstrations follow from
true, 71.
two kinds of, 65f.
universal and primary princi-
ples, 3n., 65f.. 66n.
Dejection, 156.
Deliberation, definition of, 158.
159n.
in beasts, 158.
its limits. 158.
See Will.
Demonstration, axioms of Euclid
In. 66f.
definition of, 71.
faults of, 74f.
in natural philosophy, 52.
methods of, 64f.
nature of, 70f.
necessity of syllogistlcal speech
in, 65.
of causes, the end of science, 67.
possible only when causes are
known, 71n.
properties and order of, 72f.
rules of, 72n.
two causes of error In, 72n.
use of w^ords in, 65.
Denial and affirmation, errors in,
39f.
Despair, 154.
Determlnately true, meaning of,
34n.
Dictum, or proposition, 27.
Ditfidence, 154.
Dignity, 199.
384
INDEX
Discourse, of the mind, 24f., 113n.,
114.
Division, 47.
Doubt, definition of, 173.
Dreams, and imagination, 105f.
and religion, 110.
cause of, 106, 107n.
difference between them and
reality, 106, 108, 109n.
ghosts and visions, 108n.
their characteristics, 107n.
variety of, explained, 106.
Due. 258.
Effect, definition of. 57n.
produced by necessary cause,
59n.
Bee Cause.
Effects, and appearances defined,
6.
how ascertained, 6f., 56f.
philosophy the knowledge of
their generation, 2f, 46.
Emulation, 158.
Endeavor, definition of, 144. 145n.
relation to sense, 88, 92.
End of science, 67n.
or final cause, 62n.
Envy, 158.
Equality, of men, 232. 244, 287, 302.
Equity, 81, 289 303.
Equivocation 22, 25, 43f., 68n., 69,
73n.
Erring and falsity, how they differ,
39f.
Error, committed only by man; 32.
definition of, 135.
due to the misunderstanding of
speech, 31.
'Errors, formal, 43f.
how they arise, 39f.
I in affirming and denying, 39f.
in demonstration, causes of, 72n.
j in reasoning, 41.
material, 41f.
names the causes of, 40.
of sense and cogitation, 40.
their rectification. 25.
Essence, an artificial word, 26n.
or formal cause. 62n.
unnecessary term in philosophy.
31.
Ethics, definition of, 11.
See Moral Philosophy.
Experience, and memory, 3n., 47n.,
104n.
appeal to. for proof. 25, 54, 83,
118n., 168.
caveats of concluding from, 118n.
knowledge of history, lOf.
not philosophy, 3n.
two kinds of, 47n.
Extension, cause of name body, 29
Faculties, of bodies, 6.
Faith, definition of, 175, 177n.
its causes various, 360.
Its objects, 359.
not philosophy, 4n.
Fallacies, formal, 43f.
material. 41f.
Falsity, and erring, how they dif-
fer, 39f.
and truth, matters of language,
24.
cannot follow from truth, 34.
how It arises. 39f.
in reasoning, 39f.
of propositions, 23f., 31f., 40f..
42f.
Fancy. 85. 113, 179f.
Fear, definition of, 154.
Influence on covenants, 263f.
origin of society, 248.
promises made through, not In-
valid, 262, 273.
Feigned, opposed to true, 31.
Felicity, 164, 208, 209n.
Fictions, have names, 17.
Figures, cause of their variety,
50f.
Fire, caused by motion, 98.
Form of matter, whether names
signify, 17.
Forms of speech, names of, 18n.
Fortitude. 154.
Future, a name, 17.
Freedom. See Liberty.
INDEX
385
Generation, definitions Should ex-
press, 66f., 67n.
of bodies and effects the subject
of philosophy, 2f., 10, 46.
of things, demonstration of, the
end of science, 67n., 72n.
of conceptions. 51.
reasoning from, 3n., 6f.
Geometry, demonstrable, 72n.
study of, the beginning of natur-
ral philosophy, 53.
what we consider in, 51, 53.
Geometricians, art of. 75f.
Ghosts, 108n.
Glorying, 156.
God, doctrine of his worship ex-
cluded from philosophy, 11.
his attribute, 34 8f., 350.
his authority derived from his
power, 344.
his laws, 346f.
his natural punishmenta, 353.
kingdom of. 34 2f.
limits of our knowledge of, 63n.,
119.
names attributed to, by appoint-
ment, 14n., 347.
names imposed arbitrarily by, 16.
worship of, 346f.
Good, general discufiison of, 147n.,
293, 310.
metaphysical, 161n.
relation to pleasure and pain,
148n., 149n.
relative and not absolute, 146,
147n.
three kinds of, 149.
Gratitude. 285. 299.
Hate, definition of, 146.
Heat, not in object, but in man,
100.
Heart, fountain of all sense, 89.
Heraldry, 204.
History, definition of, 193.
excluded from philosophy, lOf.
Honor, 198f.
Hope, 154.
Idea, relation to definition, 67f.
Ideas, names of. 17, 18n.
no universal, 21, 22n.
Ignorance of causes, 21 3f.
Image, an apparition of motion, 98.
Images, after-, 42n.
names of, 18n.
words to which none corres-
ponds. 25.
Imagination, and dreams, 105f.
and memory, 103.
and motion, 113.
and other mental processes, 103n.
and sense, 103n.
and sense, origin of moral mo-
tions, 53, 144.
and sense, the subject of physi-
cal contemplation, 53.
and understanding. Ill, 112n.
and universal names, 22n.
beginning of voluntary motion,
144.
cause of its coherence, 113, 114ik.
definition of, lOlf., 103.
dependence on time. 102.
none of the infinite. 62n., llf.
phantasms of, 47.
simple and compound, 104f.
trains of, 113f.
Impossible, a name. 17f.
Impudence. 157.
Indeterminate, 61n., 170.
Indignation, 154.
Inference, of one proposition from
another, 32f.
Infinite, no conception of, 62n., 119.
opinions of. how regulated, 62n.
Infinitives, abstract names, 28n.,
29.
Injury, 283f., 295f.
Injustice, like absurdity, 254, 296.
See Justice.
Inspiration, doctrine of, excluded
from phUosophy. 11.
opinion of. 185.
Interrogations, 26.
Invention, method of, 64f.
of names necessary for knowl-
edge, 24.
Jealousy, 155.
Judgment, and memory, llSn.
definition of, 172, 179f.
good, 113, 179.
386
INDEX
INDEX
387
Justice, definition of, 278f.
kinds of. 283f.. 296f.
its source in covenants, 278, 296f.
none actual outside of civil so-
ciety, 238. 278f.
See Good and Right.
Justification, 863.
Kindness, 155.
Kingdom, of God by nature, 342f.
Knowledge, absolute, 193.
all derived from sense, 86.
beginnings of, 47, 140n.
but remembrance, 47n.
conditional, 173, 193.
contingency, a defect in, 170.
definition of. 33n., 140n.
its limitations. 119. 141n.
its principles, 140n.
its several subjects, 193f.
kinds of. 47n., 140n., 193.
names necessary to, 24.
of effects and causes, 46f.
of fact, 173.
of singulars and unlversals, 47f.
original. 47n.
See Philosophy and Science.
Language, and ratiocination, 24.
invention of, 24.
its use, 24f.
laughter, definition and cause of,
156.
Liaws, divine, 346f., 338.
divine, how declared, 343.
divine, how executed, 373.
moral, 293, 309.
natural, 251f., 265f., 278f., 294f.,
369.
natural, are eternal, 292, 309.
natural, contrary to natural pas-
sions, 319.
natural, how far they oblige, 291,
307.
natural, need of power to en-
force, 319.
natural, the fundamental, 253,
267.
natural. See Arbitrators, Com-
plaisance, Contumely, Equal-
ity, Equity, Gratitude, Justice,
Lot, Meekness, Pardon, Pun-
ishment. Safe conduct. Tem-
perance,
soverign not subject to, 332n.
Leviathan, 81, 323.
Liberality, 154.
Liberty, 160n., 251.
and necessity, general doctrine
of, 160n.. 165r.
Light, and color, 99.
cause of, 59f., 98f.
Logistica, of geometricians, 75f.
Lot, decision by. 289, 303.
Love, definitions of, 146, 155.
Lust, natural, 155.
Luxury, 155.
Madness, its cause, 187.
its kinds, 184.
Magnanimity, 154.
Majorities, 316f.
Man, how different from beasts,
116f.
not naturally sociable, 302, 321f.
the idea of, 5.
Manners, difference of, 208f.
Marks, and signs, difference be-
tween, 15f., 65.
defined, 13, 19.
names used as. 15f., 19f., 64f.
necessity of, 13f., 19, 64.
Matter, how divided, 56.
or accident, method of determin-
ing, 55.
or form, whether names signi-
fy, 17.
Meekness. 28;*, 302.
Melancholy. 185.
Memory, and experience, 104n.
and imagination, 103, 104n.
and judgment, 113n.
inconstancy of, 13, 19.
knowledge by means of, 47n.
necessity of marks for, 13. 19.
64f.
Metaphors, equivocal, 22, 43f.. 139.
^Sr
f*
Metaphysics, and abstract names,
30.
use of incoherent words in, 27.
Method, analytical, 50, 54, 56, 64.
definition of, 46.
in general, 46f.
kinds of, 47, 49f., 51, 54.
of demonstration, 72f.
of invention. 64f.
of philosophy, 3n.
of seeking cause, 56f.
of teaching, 64f.
synthetical, 54, 55, 56, 64, 65.
Mind, acts of the, 104n., 118.
cause of differences in powers of,
183f.
discourse of, 113n., fl6.
motions of, 53, 118.
Miracles, 228.
Moral philosophy, 9f., 53, 145f., 293,
309.
Motion, and imagination, 113.
animal, 95. 143.
appearance of things of sense
determined by, 53.
cause of color, etc., 98f.
definition of, 29, 51, 66.
fallacy of Zeno's argument
against, 44f.
habitual, 24f.
kinds of, 143.
laws of, 59n.f.
method of inquiry concerning,
51f.
mutation consists in, 50, 59n.,
60n.f.
of the mind, 53f., 118.
the universal cause. 50f.
vital, 95, 143.
voluntary, 24, 144.
Multitude, when one person, 316.
Mutation. 50, 59n., 60n.f.
Names, abstract, 26n., 28f., 30, 127.
accidents, the cause of, 29.
advantages and uses of, 15f., 20,
64f., 70, 121, 123, 124.
alone universal, 21n., 123.
arbitrary. 14n., 16f.. 19, 70.
cause of, to be sought in things,
28.
causes of knowledge and error,
24.
common, 21n., 122.
compounded, 70.
concrete, 25n., 28f., 29. ^.
copulated, 41.
definition of, 15, 16, 19, 65f., 120.
definition only the explication of,
67f., 70.
diversified by passion, 25.
errors in the use of, 39f., 41f.
equivocal, 22, 25.
first truths arbitrarily made by
imposition of, 32.
incoherent. 26. 41, 130.
inconstant, 130.
indefinite, 21.
individual, 20f., 122.
in general, 13f., 19f., 64f., 69f.,
120f.
kinds of, 18n., 20, 41, 122. 127f.
meaningless. 128.
negative, 128.
not necessarily names of some-
thing. 17f.. 28n.
of an accident, a predicate, 37f.
of a thing, a subject, 37f.
of fancies, 127.
of matter, 127.
of number, 20, 124.
of qualities, 20.
of speeches, 26, 128.
positive 20, 23.
privative, 20, 23.
proper. 21, 122.
signs of conceptions, 17f., 19.
singular, 20f.
universal, 20f., 21n., 64f.. 123.
what we give names to, 17f., 20,
126.
Necessity, general doctrine of, 59n.,
61n., 160n., 165f.
Nothing, a name, 18.
Number, names of, 20.
necessity of, 20.
Natural condition of mankind,
232f.
Natural laws. See Law.
Nature, laws of. See Law.
388
INDEX
INDEX
389
Oaths, 264, 276.
Obedience to Christian and hea-
then sovereigns, 364f.
Objects, and motion, 50f.
names of, 20.
Obligation, derived from contract,
254n.
Opinion. 172.
Optic n€rve, function in sight,
98f.
Pain, definition of, 151, 153n.
Panic, 155.
Paralogisms, 25, 74.
Pardon, 286, 300.
Parsimony, 155.
Passion, definition of, 57n.
Passions, beginning of voluntary
motions and speech. 24, 143f.
cause of different names for, 153.
In general, 143f.
names diversified by, 25.
simple, 153.
verbal expressions for, 160f.
Patient, definition of, 57n.
Peace, a dictate of reason, 250.
Perception, errors of, 40.
knowledge through, 47.
Persons. 31 3f.
Petitions or posrtulata, 67.
Petitio prlncipii, 74.
Phantasms, 17, 37. 42n., 47. 55, 62n.,
87, 88, 92.
Phenomena definition of, 3n.
Philosophy, abstract names In, 30f.
but one kind of speech useful
in, 27.
civil, 8f., 11, 53f., 72n., 73,
definition of, 2f.. 12, 46.
end or scope of. 7.
first, 12n., 72n.
identified with natural reason, If.
kinds of, 11, 12n., 193n.
marks and signs necessary for,
13f.
methods of, 3n., 51f., 73.
moral. 9f., 53, 145f., 293, 309.
natural, 11, 51f., 53, 55.
principal parts of, llf., 12n.
subjects of, lOf., 62n.
teaching of, begins from defi-
nitions, 70.
utility of. 7f.
what men search after in. 49f.
See Knowledge and Science.
Physical contemplation. Its sub-
ject, 53.
Physics. 8n., 12n., 52. 75.
Pity. 157.
Place, definition of, 51.
Pleasure, definition of, 151, 153n.
kinds of, 152.
Politics, definition of, 11.
See Civil philosophy.
Power, 196f., 198n.
desire for* a general inclination,
208.
Praise, 164.
Precepts of reason. 250,. 251, 252,
266.
Predicate of a proposition, 27f.,
Son,. 37.
Pride, 288, 302.
Principles, not in need of demon-
stration, 65, 69.
first, of knowledge, 51.
reasoning from, 23f.
universal and primary, 3n., 65f.,
66n.
use of term by Aristotle. 44.
Privation, names for, 20, 23.
Profess, definition of, 32n.
Properties and abstract names, 30f.
definition of. 6.
how known by generation. 6f.
Property, none outside of civil so-
ciety. 239. 247f., 334.
Propositions, afllrmative and nega-
tive, 23.
consequence of, 32f.
contingent, 33n.
definition of. 23, 27f.
in general, 27f.
major and minor, 37.
predicate of. 27f., 33n.
received as truth, why, 33n.
science, knowledge of the truth
of. 47n.
singular, 3n.
subject of, 27f, 38n.
Propositions, true and false. 23,
27, 31f., 33n., 41f.
truth and falsity, a matter of,
31f,. 32n.
universal and primary, 3n.. 65f.,
66n.
>nce, 3n., 116, 1 S 2.
»unishment. 287. 301, 353^
r^r: —
Qualities, of sense, 94. 96.
sen.«;ible, but motion, 85, 87.
sensible, only in the sentient,
96f.
Quality and quantity. o3.
names of, 20.
Ratiocination, and language, 24.
in general. 4f., 23f., 32.
true, 32.
Rational, idea of, 5.
Reason, a law of nature, 252, 266.
and science, 131f.
definition of, 6, 132.
knowledge of universals acquired
by. 49f.
natural. If.
limits of natural, 351.
not natural, but acquired, 137f.
precepts of, 250, 251, 252, 266.
right, 4n., 23f., 132f., 151n., 152n.,
266.
same in all men, 252n.
use and end of, 134.
Reasoning, and abstract names,
30f.
errors In, 25, 39f., 41.
in general, 3n.. 4f., 23f.
from authority of books, not
philosophy, 4n,
produces general and eternal
truth, 4n.
rnght, 4n., 23f., 132f., 151n., 152n..
266.
Religion, 110, 155, 217f.
Remembrance, all experience and
knowledge but, 47n.
definition of, 116.
Representatives, 314f.
Repugnance or consequence, names
for, 18n,
Resolution, knowledge acquired
by, 49f.
or division, 47.
Revelation, not philosophy, 4n., 11.
Rcvengefulness, 155.
Right, how renounced, 253, 268.
natural. 234n.. 246f.. 251.
See Justice.
Rights, of sovereigns, 325f., 339n.
of succession, 341n.
which cannot be renounced, 255,
262, 288. 302.
Rules, of action, need of, 9f.
Salvation, what necessary to, 356f.
Sapience, definition of, 139, 140n.
Science, all true ratiocination pro-
duces, 71.
and reason, 131f.
causes of error In. 72n,
classification of, 193f.
conditional character of, 173, 193.
definition of, 33n., 46f., 47n.. 67n.,
140n., 193.
dependence on naihes, 20.
derived from precognition of
causes, 72n.
end of, 67.
moral, the need of, 9f.
number necessary to, 20.
signs of, 141.
sought after in two ways, 49f.
See Knowledge and Philosophy.
Sciences, the greatest of commod-
ities, 8.
Sense, all knowledge derived from,
86.
and imagination, 53, 103.
and memory, not philosophy. 3.
and motion, 84f.. 87f., 96f., 102.
as reaction, 90.
cause of, 84, 86, 87.
deceptions of, 25, 100.
definition of, 85, 88.
errors of, 40.
in knowledge by. whole object
better known, 47f.
knowledge through, 47n.
390
Sense, nature of, 87.
object of, 88, 89, 95.
organs of, 89.
original of man's thoughts, 84.
perceives only one thing at a
time, 91f.
phantasms of, 47.
physiology of, 8Sf., 93.
qualities of, 94, 96.
relation to memory, 90.
subject of, 87, 88.
succession of the acts of, 19..
variety of phantasms necessary
to, 90f.
variety of things perceived
caused by motion, 50f.
why outward, 85.
Senses, conceptions of. 95f.
number of, 91.
Sensible qualities, but motion, 85,
87.
qualities, only ni the sentient,
96f.
species. 85, 96.
Shame, 157.
Signs and marks. 15f.
arbitrary. 14n.
definition of, 14.
errors arising from natural. 40.
in demonstration, 65.
kinds of, 14n.
names used as, I5f.
natural, 14n.
necessity of, 14f.
of connexion in a
27f.
Sin, 236n.
Singulars and unlvereals. knowl-
edge of, 47f., 49f.
Smell, not In object, 100.
Society, natural fitness for, 240.
321.
origin in fear. 243.
Sophists and sceptics, captions of,
44f.
Sovereigns, can do no injustice,
330.
cannot justly be punished, 332.
INDEX
0-
proposition,
obedience to Christian and hea-
then, 364f.
rights of, 325f., 339n.
rights of succession of, 341n.
Sovereignty, absolute and not to
be divided, 336f.
how attained, 324.
when it may be changed, 370f.
Species, sensible. 85f., 96.
Speech, absurd, 26f.
benefits derived from, 120.
incoherent, 26f.
definition of, 15.
in general, 120f.
kinds of, 26f.
names of different forms of, 18n. ,
passions of men the beginning
of, 24.
significatioi\ the end of, 27.
syllogistical. 38. 65.
truth and falsity belong to, 31f.
uses and abuses of, 121f.
Spirits. 187f.
Square, idea of, 5.
Subject, concrete the name of the,
28.
of a proposition. 2Tf., 33n.
of the conclusion. 37.
Subjects, how released from obli-
gation. 326n.
of God. 343.
Supposing, definition of, 32n.
Superstition. 155.
Syllogism, a matter of speech, 38.
definition and structure of, 36.
in general. 23. 36f.. 43f., 70f.
material errors in, 41f.
necessary in teaching or demon-
stration. 65.
terms of, 36f.
thoughts in the mind answering
to, 37f.
Teaching, definition of. 05.
method of. 64f.
necessity of syllogistical speech
in, 65.
use of words in, 65.
Temperance. 291. 307.
INDEX
391
Terms, equivocation of, 43f.
fallacies in, 36f.. 43.
major, minor, and middle, 37.
of the syllogism. 36f.
Theology, not philosophy, 10.
Theorems, 67.
Things, abstract names do not de-
note, 29.
causes of their names, 28.
errors do not arise from, 40.
lawful to apply the word univer-
sally, 18.
many names or attributes for,
20, 21n.
names of, 18n., 19f.
names not signs of, 17f.
no universal, 21n.
themselves and phantasms, 55.
to which we gives names, 41.
truth and falsity do not belong
to. 31f.
Thinking, definition of, 33n.
Thoughts, inconstancy of, 13.
in the mind answering to syl-
logism, 37f.
names as marks and signs of,
15f., 19f.
necessity of marks and signs
for, 13f.
their original sense, 84.
what they are smgly, 84.
Torture, 263, 276.
Train of imaginations, 113f.
True, determinately, 34n.
Truth, and falsity belong to
speech, 24, 31f, 125.
and falsity of propositions, 23,
31f, 33n.
must follow from truth and may
from falsity, 34.
propositions received as, 33n.
reasoning contradictory to ev-
ident, 24.
Truths, first, arbitrarily made, 32.
Understanding, and Imagination,
111, 112n.
and speech, 112n.
definition of, 22, 129.
peculiar to man, 129.
science derived from, 47n.
Universal, nothing, but names,
21n.
notion given In definition, 69.
propositions, 3n., 65f., 66n.,
Universals and singulars, knowl-
edge of. 47f., 49f.
Value. 198.
Virtue, as habits, 149n.
definition of, 178.
intellectual, 178f.
intellectual, causes of difference
In, 179, 183.
Vision, originates In motion, 99.
Voluntai-y actions, 159.
motions, passions the beginning
of, 24. 143f.
War, cause of, 8f., 234.
Weeping. 156.
Will, and deliberation, 158.
definition of. 158, 159n.
general doctrine of, 159n., ISBf.
Words, connected to form speech,
15f.
incoherent, 26f.
insignificant, 30.
seed of philosophy, 73n.
truth and falsity a matter of,
31f, 32n.
use of. by appointment, 14n.
uses of, 18n., 64f., 124.
See Names.
Worth, 198.
Worthiness, 20b.
Worship, doctrine of, not philos-
ophy, 11.
its kinds. Institution, and regu-
lation, 15n., 346f.
Zeno, arguments of, against mo-
tion, 44f.
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