An essay concerning human understanding

^/

J^

m

\ * '^^ .

Tc

J oho Vo^^<^*'^

<^t\A vn

WO'

1

iwli^-c

AN

ESSAY

CONCEHNINO

HUMAN UNDERSTANDING,

BY JOHN LOCKE, GENT.

TWENTY-FOURTH EDITION.
WITH THE AUTHOR'S LAST ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS.

COMPLETE, WITH NOTES, IN ONE VOLUME.

UoitHoii :

PRINTED FOR WILLIAM BAYNES AND SON, PATERNOSTER ROW j

AND TO BE BAD OF ALL BOOKSELLERS.

M.DCCC. XXIII.

D. Cartwright, Printer, 91, Bartholomew Close, London,

RIGHT HONOURABLE THOMAS,

EARL OF PEMBROKE AND MONTGOMERY,

BARON HERBERT OF CARDIFF, LORDROSS OF KENDAL, PAR,
FITZHUGH, MARMION, ST. QUINTIN, AND SHURLAND; LORD
PRESIDENT OF HIS MAJESTY's MOST HONOURABLE PRIVY-
COUNCIL, AND LORD LIEUTENANT OF THE COUNTY OF WILTS,
AND OF SOUTH WALES.

MY LORD,

THIS treatise, which is grown up under your lordship's eye,
and has ventured into the world by your order, does now, by
a natural kind of right, come to your lordship for that pro-
tection, which you several years since promised it. It is not
that I think any name, how great soever, set at the beginning
of a book, will be able to cover the faults that are to be found in
it. Things in print, must stand and fall by their own worth,
or the reader's fancy. But there being nothing more to be
desired for Truth, than a fair unprejudiced hearing, nobody is
more likely to procure me that than your lordship, who is
allowed to have got so intimate an acquaintance with her, in
her more retired recesses. Your lordship is known to have
so far advanced your speculations in the most abstract and
general knowledge of things, beyond the ordinary reach, or
common methods, that your allowance and approbation of
the design of this treatise, will at least preserve it from being
condemned without reading; and will prevail to have those
parts a little weighed, which might otherwise, perhaps, be
thought to deserve no consideration, for being somewhat out
of the common road. The imputation of novelty, is a terrible
charge amongst those who judge of men's heads, as they do
of their perukes, by the fashion; and can allow none to be
right, but the received doctrines. Truth scarce ever yet carried
it by vote any where at its first appearance : new opinions are

A 2

iv EPI8TLI: DKDICATORY.

always suspected, and usually opposed, without any other
reason, but because they are not already common. But truth,
like gold,_is not the less so for being newly brought out of the
mine. It is trial and examination must give it price, and not
any antique fashion : and though it be not yet current by the
public stamp ; yet it may, for all that, be as old as nature,
and is certainly not the less genuine. Your lordship can give
great and convincing instances of this, whenever you please
to oblige the public with some of those large and compre-
hensive discoveries you have made of truths hitherto unknown,
unless to some few, from whom your lordship has been pleased
not wholly to conceal them. This alone were a sufficient
reason, were there no other, why I should dedicate this Essay
to your lordship ; and its having some little correspondence
with some parts of that nobler and vast system of the sciences
your lordship has made so new, exact, and instructive a
draught of, I think it glory enough, if your lordship permit me
to boast, that here and there I have fallen into some thoughts
not wholly different from yours. If your lordship think fit,
that, by your encouragement, this should appear in the world,
I hope it may be a reason, some time or other, to lead your
lordship farther ; and you will allow me to say, that you here
give the world an eai-nest of something, that, if they can bear
with this, will be truly worth their expectation. This, my
lord, shows what a present I here make to your lordship : just '
such as the poor man does to his rich and great neighbour, by
whom the basket of flowers, or fruit, is not ill taken, though
he has more plenty of his own growth, and in much greater
Derfection. Worthless things receive a value, when they are
made the offerings of respect, esteem, and gratitude : these
vou have given me so mighty and peculiar reasons to have, in
the highest degree, for your lordship, that if they can add a
price to what they go along with, proportionable to their own
greatness, I can with confidence brag, I here make your lord-
ship the richest present you ever received. This I am sure, I
am under the greatest obligation to seek all occasions to ac-
knowledge a long train of favours I have received from your
lordship ; favours, though great and important in themselves,
yet made much more so by the forwardness, concern, and kind-

EPISTLE DEDICATORY. v

ness, and other obliging circumstances, that never failed to
accompany them. To all this you are pleased to add that
which gives yet more weight and relish to all the rest : you
vouchsafe to continue me in some degrees of your esteem, and
allow me a place in your good thoughts, I had almost said
friendship. This, my lord, your words and actions so con-
stantly show on all occasions, even to others when I am absent,
that it is not vanity in me to mention what every body knows :
but it would be want of good manners, not to acknowledge what
so many are witnesses of, and every day tell me I am indebted
to your lordship for. I wish they could as easily assist my
gratitude, as they convince me of the great and growing engage-
ments it has to your lordship. This I am sure, I should write
of the understanding without having any, if I were not ex-
tremely sensible of them, and did not lay hold on this oppor-
tunity to testify to the world, how much I am obliged to be,
and how much I am,

MY LORD,

YOUR lordship's

MOST HUMBLE, AND

MOST OBEDIENT, SERVANT,

JOHN LOCKE.

Di,riel Court, 24tli
t'/ May, 1689.

A 3

EPISTLE TO THE READER.

READER,

I HERE put into thy hands, what has been the diversion of some
of my idle and heavy hours : if it has the good luck to prove
so of any of thine, and thou hast but half so much pleasure in
reading, as I had in writing, it, thou wilt as little think thy
money, as I do my pains, ill bestowed. Mistake not this
for a commendation of my work ; nor conclude, because I was
pleased with the doing of it, that therefore I am fondly taken
with it now it is done. He that hawks at larks and sparrows,
has no less sport, though a much less considerable quarry, than
he that flies at nobler game : and he is little acquainted with
thesubjectof this treatise, the understanding, who does not
know, that as it is the most elevated faculty of the soul, so it is
employed with a greater, and more constant, delight, than any
of the other. Its searches after truth, are a sort of hawking
and hunting, wherein the very pursuit makes a great part of the
pleasure. Every step the mind takes in its progress towards
knowledge, makes some discovery, which is not only new, but
the best too, for the time at least.

For the understanding, like the eye, judging of objects
only by its own sight, cannot but be pleased with what it
discovers, having less regret for what has escaped it, because
it is unknown. Thus he who has raised himself above the
alms-basket, and not content to live lazily on scraps of begged
opinions, sets its own thoughts on work, to find and follow
truth, will (whatever he lights on) not miss the hunter's satis-
faction; every moment of his pursuit, will reward his pains
with some delight, and he will have reason to think his time
not ill spent, even when he cannot much boast of any great
acquisition.

This, reader, is the entertainment of those who let loose their
own thoughts, and follow them in writing ; which thou ought
not to envy them, since they afford thee an opportunity of the
like diversion, if thou will make use of thy own thoughts in
reading. It is to them, if they are thy own, that I refer myself:
but if they are taken upon trust from others, it is no great matter
what they are, they not following truth, but some meaner consi-
deration : and it is not worth while to be concerned, what he

A 4

viii EPISTLE TO THE READER.

says or thinks, who says or thinks only as he is directed by
another. If thou judgest for thyself, I know thou wilt judge
candidly ; and then I shall not be harmed or offended, whatever
be thy censure. For though it be certain, that there is nothing
in this treatise, of the truth whereof I am not fully persuaded ;
yet I consider myself as liable to mistakes as I can think thee j
and know, that this book must stand or fall with thee, not by
any opinion I have of it, but by thy own. If thou findest little in
it new or instructive to thee, thou art not to blame me for it. It
was not meant for those that had already mastered this subject,
and made a thorough acquaintance with their own understandings ;
but for my own information, and the satisfaction of a few friends,
who acknowledged themselves not to have suflBciently considered
it. Were it fit to trouble thee with the history of this Essay,
I should tell thee, that five or six friends meeting at my chamber,
and discoursing on a subject very remote from this, found them-
selves quickly at a stand, by the difficulties that rose on every
side. After we had a while puzzled ourselves, without coming
any nearer a resolution of those doubts which perplexed us, it
came into ray thoughts, that we took a wrong course ; and that,
before we set ourselves upon enquiries of that nature, it was
, necessary to examine our own abilities, and see what objects our
understandings were, or were not, fitted to deal with. This I pro-
posed to the company, who all readily assented ; and thereupon
it was agreed, that this should be our first enquiry. Some hasty
and undigested thoughts, on a subject I had never before con-
sidered, which I set down against our next meeting, gave the
first entrance into this discourse ; which having been thus begun
by chance, was continued by entreaty, written by incoherent par-
cels ; and after long intervals of neglect, resumed again, as my
humour or occasions permitted ; and at last, in a retirement,
where an attendance on my health gave me leisure, it was brought
into that order thou seest it.

This discontinued way of writing, may have occasioned, besides
others, two contrary faults, viz., that too little and too much
may be said in it. If thou findest any thing wanting, I shall
be glad, that what I have writ, gives thee any desire that I
should have gone farther : if it seems too much to thee, thou
must blame the subject ; for when I first put pen to paper, I
thought all I should have to say on this matter, would have been
contained in one sheet of paper ; but the farther I went, the
larger prospect I had : new discoveries led me still on, and so
it crew insensibly to the bulk it now appears in. I will not
deny, but possibly it might be reduced to a narrower compass
than it is ; and that some parts of it might be contracted ; the

EPISTLE TO THE READER. ix

way it has been writ in, by catches, and many long intervals of
interruption, being apt to cause some repetitions. But to con-
fess the truth, I am now too lazy, or too busy, to make it
shorter.

I am not ignorant how little I herein consult my own reputation,
when I knowingly let it go with a fault, so apt to disgust the
most judicious, who are always the nicest readers. But they
who know sloth is apt to content itself with any excuse, will
pardon me, if mine has prevailed on me, where, I think, I have
a very good one. I will not, therefore, allege in my defence,
that the same notion, having different respects, may be con-
venient or necessary to prove or illustrate several parts of the
same discourse ; and that so it has happened in many parts of
this ; but waving that, I shall frankly avow, that I have some-
times dwelt long upon the same argument, and expressed it
different ways, with a quite different design. I pretend not to
publish this Essay for the information of men of large thoughts
and quick apprehensions ; to such masters of knowledge, I pi'o-
fess myself a scholar, and therefore warn them before-hand not
to expect any thing here, but what being spun out of my own
coarse thoughts, is fitted to men of my own size ; to whom,
perhaps, it will not be acceptable, that I have taken some pains
to make plain and familiar to their thoughts some truths, which
established prejudice, or the abstractness of the ideas themselves,
might render difficult. Some objects had need be turned on
every side ; and when the notion is new, as I confess some of
them are to me, or out of the ordinary road, as I suspect they
will appear to others, it is not one simple view of it, that will
gain it admittance into every understanding, or fix it there with
a clear and lasting impression. There are few, I believe, who
have not observed in themselves or others, that what in one way
of proposing, was very obscure, another way of expressing it,
has made very clear and intelligible : though afterwards the mind
found little diflference in the phrases, and wondered why one
failed to be understood more than the other. But every thing
does not hit alike upon every man's imagination. We have our
understandings no less different than our palates ; and he that
thinks the same truth shall be equally relished by every one
in the same dress, may as well hope to feast every one with the
same sort of cookery : the meat may be the same, and the nourish-
ment good, yet every one not be able to receive it with that
seasoning ; and it must be dressed another way, if you will have
it go down with some, even of strong constitutions. The truth
is, those who advised me to publish it, advised me, for this
reason, to publish it as it is: and since I have been brought to

X EPISTLE TO THE READER.

let it go abroad, I desire it should be understood by whoever
gives himself the pains to read it. I have so little affectation to
be in print, that if I were not flattered, this Essay might be of
some use to others, as I think it has been to me, I should have
confined it to the view of some friends, who gave the first oc-
casion to it. My appearing therefore in print, being on purpose
to be as useful as I may, I think it necessary to make what I
have to say, as easy and intelligible to all sorts of readers as I
can. And I had much rather the speculative and quick-sighted
should complain of my being in some parts tedious, than that
any one, not accustomed to abstract speculations, or prepos-
sessed with different notions, should mistake, or not comprehend,
my meaning.

It will possibly be censured as a great piece of vanity or in-
solence in me, to pretend to instruct this our knowing age, it
amounting to little less, when I own, that I publish this Essay
with hopes it may be useful to others. But if it may be per-
mitted to speak freely of those, who with a feigned modesty
condemn as useless,, what they themselves write, methinks it
savours much more vanity or insolence, to publish a book for
any other end ; and he fails very much of that respect he owes
the public, who prints, and consequently expects men should
read, th^it, wherein he intends not they should meet with any
thing of use to themselves or others : and should nothing else
be found allowable in this treatise, yet my design will not cease
to be so ; and the goodness of my intention ought to be some
excuse for the worthlessness of my present. It is that chiefly
which secures me from the fear of censure, which I expect not
to escape more than better writers. Men's principles, notions,
and relishes, are so different, that it is hard to find a book which
pleases or displeases all men. I acknowledge the age Ave live
in, is not the least knowing, and therefore not the most easy to
be satisfied. If I have not the good luck to please, yet nobody
ought to be offended with me. I plainly tell all my readers,
except half-a-dozen, this treatise was not at first intended for
them ; and therefore they need not be at the trouble to be of
that number. But yet if any one thinks fit to be angry, and
rail at it, he may dc it securely : for I shall find some better way
of spending my time, than in such kind of conversation. I shall
always have the satisfaction to have aimed sincerely at truth
and usefulness, though in one of the meanest ways. The com-
monwealth of learning, is not at this time without master-
builders, whose mighty designs, in advancing the sciences, will
leave lasting monuments to the admiration of posterity ; but
every one must not hope to be a Boyle, or a Sydenham ; and in
■on age that produces such musters, as the great Huygenius, and

EPESTLE TO THE READER. xi

the incomparable Mr. Newton, with some other of that strain ;
it is ambition enough to be employed as an under-labourer in
clearing the gromid a little, and removing some of the rubbish that
lies in the way to knowledge ; which certainly had been very
much more advanced in the world, if the endeavours of inge-
nious and industrious men had not been much cumbered with, the
learned, but frivolous, use of uncouth, affected, or unintelligible
terms introduced into the sciences, and there made an art of,
to that degree, that philosophy, which is nothing but the true
knowledge of things, was thought unfit, or incapable, to be
brought into well-bred company, and polite conversation. Vague
and insignificant forms of speech, and abuse of language, have
so long passed for mysteries of science ; and hard or misapplied
words, with little or no meaning, have, by prescription, such a
right to be mistaken for deep learning, and height of specula-
tion, that it will not be easy to persuade, either those who speak,
or those who hear them, that they are but the covers of igno-
rance, and hinderance of true knowledge. To break in upon the
sanctuary of vanity and ignorance, will be, I suppose, some
service to human understanding : though so few are apt to think
they deceive, or are deceived, in the use of words ; or that the
language of the sect they are of, has any faults in it, which
ought to be examined or corrected ; that I hope I shall be par-
doned, if I have in the third book dwelt long on this subject,
and endeavoured to make it so plain, that neither the inveterate-
ness of the mischief, nor the prevalency of the fashion, shall be
any excuse for those, who will not take care about the meaning
of their own words, and will not suffer the significancy of their
expressions to be enquired into.

I have been told, that a short epitome of this treatise, which
was printed in 1688, was by some condemned without reading,
because innate ideas were denied in it ; they too hastily con-
cluding, that if innate ideas were not supposed, there would be
little left, either of the notion or proof of spirits. If any one
take the like offence at the entrance of this treatise, I shall desire
him to read it through ; and then I hope he will be convinced,
that the taking away false foundations, is not to the prejudice,
but advantage, of truth ; which is never injured or endangered
so much, as when mixed with, or built on, falsehood. In the
second edition, I added as followeth:

The bookseller will not forgive me, if I say nothing of this
second edition, which he has promised, by the correctness of it,
shall make amends for the many faults committed in the former.
He desires, too, that it should be known that it has one whole
new chapter concerning identity, and many additions and amend-
ments in other places. These I must inform mv reader are not

xii EPISTLE TO THE READER.

all new matter, but most of them either farther confirmation of
what I had said, or explication to prevent others being mistaken
in the sense of what was formerly printed, and not any variation
in me from it ; I must only except the alterations I have made
in book ii., chap. 21.

What I had there writ concerning liberty and the will, I thought
deserved as accurate a review, as I was capable of : those sub-
jects having in all ages exercised the learned part of the world,
with questions and difficulties that have not a little perplexed
morality and divinity ; those parts of knowledge that men are
most concerned to be clear in. Upon a closer inspection into
the working of men's minds, and a stricter examination of those
motives and views they are turned by, I have found reason some-
what to alter the thoughts I formerly had concerning that, which
gives the last determination to the will in all voluntary actions.
This I cannot forbear to acknowledge to the world, witli as much
freedom and readiness as I at first published what then seemed
to me to be right, thinking myself more concerned to quit and
renounce any opinion of my own, than oppose that of another,
when truth appears against it. For it is truth alone I seek, and
that will always be welcome to me, when or from whence soever
it comes.

But what forwardness soever I have to resign any opinion I
have, or to recede from any thing I have writ, upon the first
evidence of any error in it ; yet this I must own, that I have not
had the good luck to receive any light from those exceptions I
have met with in print against any part of my book ; nor have,
from any thing that has been urged against it, found reason to
alter my sense, in any of the points that have been questioned.
Whether the subject I have in hand, requires often more thought
and attention than cursory readers, at least such as are pre-
possessed, are willing to allow ; or whether any obscurity in
my expressions casts a cloud over it, and these notions are
made difficult to others apprehensions in my way of treating
them ; so it is, that my meaning, I find, is often mistaken,
and I have not the good luck to be every where rightly under-
stood. There are so many instances of this, that I think it
justice to my reader and myself, to conclude, that either my book
is plainly enough written to be rightly understood by those who
peruse it with that attention and indifferency which every one
who will give himself the pains to read, ought to employ in
reading; or else, that I have writ mine so obscurely, that it is in
vain to go about to mend it. Whichever of these be the truth,
it is myself only am affected thereby ; and therefore I shall be far
from troubling my reader with what I think might be said in
answer to those several objections I have met with, to passages here

EPISTLE TO THE READER. xiii

and there of my book: since I persuade myself that he who thinks
them of moment enough to be concerned, whether they are true
or false, will be able to see, that what is said, is either not
well founded, or else not contrary to my doctrine, when I and
my opposer come both to be well understood.

If any, careful that none of their good thoughts should be
lost, have published their censures of my Essay, with this honour
done to it, that they will not suffer it to be an Essay, I leave it
to the public to value the obligation they have to their critical
pens, and shall not waste my reader's time in so idle or ill-natured
an employment of mine, as to lessen the satisfaction any one
has in himself, or gives to others, in so hasty a confutation of
what I have written.

The bookseller preparing for the fourth edition of my Essay,
gave me notice of it, that I might, if I had leisure, make any
additions or alterations I should think fit. Whereupon I thought
it convenient to advertise the reader, that besides several cor-
rections I had made here and there, there was one alteration which
it was necessary to mention, because it ran through the whole
book, and is of consequence to be rightly understood. What I
thereupon said, was this :

Clear and distinct ideas, are terms, which though familiar and
frequent in men's mouths, I have reason to think every one, who
uses, does not perfectly understand. And possibly it is but
here and there one who gives himself the trouble to consider
them so far as to know what he himself or others precisely mean
by them : I have therefore in most places chose to put deter-
minate or determined, instead of clear and distinct, as more
likely to direct men's thoughts to my meaning in this matter.
By those denominations, I mean some object in the mind, and
consequently determined, i. e. such as it is there seen and per-
ceived to be. This, I think, may fitly be called a determinate or
determined idea, when such as it is at any time objectively in
the mind, and so determined there, it is annexed, and without
variation determined to a name or articulate sound, which is to be
steadily the sign of that very same object of the mind, or deter-
minate idea.

To explain this a little more particularly. By determinate,
when applied to a simple idea, I mean that simple appearance
which the mind has in its view, or perceives in itself, when that
idea is said to be in it : by determinate, when applied to a com-
plex idea, I mean such an one as consists of a determinate
number of certain simple or less complex ideas, joined in such
a proportion and situation, as the mind has before its view, and
sees in itself when that idea is present in it, or should be present

xiv EPISTLE TO THE READER.

in it, when a man gives a name to it : I say should be ; because
it is not every one, nor perhaps any one, who is so careful of his
language, as to use no word, till he views in his mind the precise
determined idea which he resolves to make it the sign of. The
want of this, is the cause of no small obscurity and confusion
in men's thoughts and discourses.

I know there are not words enough in any language, to answer
all the variety of ideas that enter into men's discourses and
reasoninos. I3ut this hinders not, but that when any one uses
any term, he may have in his mind a determined idea, which he
m'akes it the sign of, and to which he should keep it steadily an-
nexed, durino- that present discourse. Where he does not, or
cannot, do this, he in vain pretends to clear or distinct ideas ; it
is plain his are not so : and therefore there can be expected no-
thino- but obscurity and confusion, where such terms are made
use of, which have not such a precise determination.

Upon this ground I have thought determined ideas a way of
speaking less liable to mistake than clear and distinct : and
where men have got such determined ideas of all that they
reason, enquire, or argue about, they will find a great part of
their doubts and disputes at an end. The greatest part of the
questions and controversies that perplex mankind, depending on
the doubtful and uncertain use of words, or (which is the same)
indetermined ideas which they are made to stand for, I have made
choice of these terms to signify, 1, Some immediate object of
the mind, which it perceives and has before it, distinct from the
sound it uses as a sign of it. 2, That this idea, thus determined,
i. e. which the mind has in itself, and knows and sees there, be
determined without any change to that name, and that name
determined to that precise idea. If men had such determined
ideas in their enquiries and discourses, they would both discern
how far their own enquiries and discourses went, and avoid the
greatest part of the disputes and wranglings they have with
others.

Besides this, the bookseller will think it necessary I should
advertise the reader, that there is an addition of two chapters
wholly new ; the one of the association of ideas, the other of
enthusiasm. These, with some other larger additions never before
printed, he has engaged to print by themselves after the same
manner, and for the same purpose, as was done when this Essay
had the second impression.

In this sixth edition, there is very little added or altered ; the
greatest part of what is new, is contained in the 21st chapter of
the second book, which any one, if he thinks it worth while,
may, with a very little labour, transcribe into the margin of
the former edition.

CONTENTS.

BOOK 1.

CHAP.

1. An enquiry into tbe under-

standing, page 1.

2. No innate speculative prin-

ciples, p. 9.

3. No innate practical princi-

ples, p. 25.

4. Other considerations concern-

ing innate principles, both
speculative and practical, 42.

9.
10,
11.

12.
13.

14,

15.

16,
17
18,
19,

BOOK II.

Of ideas in general, p. 59.

Of simple ideas, p. 72.

Of ideas of one sense, p. 75.

Of solidit}', p. 7G.

Of simple ideas of divers
senses, p. 80.

Of simple ideas of reflection,
p. 81.

Of simple ideas of both sen-
sation and reflection, p. 81.

Some farther considerations
concerning our simple ideas,
p. 85.

Of perception, p. 94.

Of retention, p. 99.

Of discerning, and other ope-
rations of the mind, p. 104.

Of complex ideas, p. 111.

Of simple modes, and, first,
of tbe simple modes of space,
p. 114.

Of duration and its simple
modes, p. 126.

Of duration and expansion,
considered together, p. 139.

Of number, p. 147.

Of inlinity, p. 151.

Of otbersimple modes, p. 163.

Of tbe modes of thinking,
p. 165.

CHA

20.

21.
22.
23.

24.

26.

27.

28.
29.

30.

31.

32.
33.

Of modes of pleasure and
pain, 167.

Of power, p. 171.

Of mixed modes, p. 213,

Of our complex ideas of sub-
stances, p. 219.

Of collective ideas of sub-
stances, p. 243.

Of relation, p. 244.

Of cause and effect, and other
relations, p. 249.

Of identity and diversity, p.
252.

Of other relations, p. 284.

Of clear and obscure, distinct
and confused, ideas, p. 295.

Of real and fantastical ideas,
p. 304.

Of adequate and inadequate
ideas, p. 306.

Of true and false ideas, p. 314.

Of the association of ideas,
p. 323.

BOOK III.

1. Of words and language in

general, p. 330.

2. Of the signification of words,

p. 332.

3. Of general terms, p. 336.

4. Of the names of simple ideas,

p. 349.

5. Of the names of mixed modes

and relations, p. 356.

6. Of the names of substances,

p. 365.

7. Of particles, p. 393.

8. Of abstract and concrete

terms, p. 395.

9. Of the imperfection of words,

p. 397.
10. Of the abuse of words, p. 410.

CONTENTS.

CHAP.

11. Of the remedies of the fore-
going imperfections and a-
buses, p. 4*26.

BOOK IV.

1. Of knowledge in general, p.

439.

2. Of the degrees of our know-

ledge, p. 447.

3. Of the extent of human know-

ledge, p. 454.

4. Of the reality of knowledge,
p. 491.

Of truth in general, p. 501.
Of universal propositions, their
truth and certainty, p. 505.
Of maxims, p. 516.
Of trifling propositions, p. 531 .
9. Of our knowledge of exist-
ence, 539.

CHAP.

10. Of the knowledge of the exist-

ence of a God, p. 540.

11. Of the know ledge of the exist-

ence of other things, p. 550.

12. Of the improvement of our

know ledge, p. 558.

13. Some other considerations con-

cerning our know ledge, 567.

14. Of judgment, p. 569.

15. Of probability, p, 570.

16. Ofthedegreesof assent,p.574,

17. Of reason, p. 583.

18. Of faith and reason, and their

distinct provinces, p. 601.

19. Of enthusiasm, p. 608.

20. Of wrong assent or error,

p. 616.

21. The division of the sciences,

p. 628.

OF

HUMAN UNDERSTANDING

BOOK I. CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCTION.

§. 1 . AN enquiry into the understanding , pleasant and useful. —
Since it is the understanding that sets man above the rest of
sensible beings, and gives him all the advantage and domi-
nion which he has over them ; it is certainly a subject, even
from its nobleness, worth our labour to enquire into. The
understanding, like the eye, whilst it makes us see, and per-
ceive all other things, takes no notice of itself: and it re-
quires art and pains to set it at a distance, and make it its
own object. But whatever be the difficulties that lie in the
way of this enquiry, whatever it be that keeps us so much in
the dark to ourselves, sure I am, that all the light we can let in
upon our own minds, all the acquaintance we can make with
our own understandings, will not only be very pleasant, but
bring us great advantage, in directing our thoughts in the
search of other things.

§. 2. Design. — This, therefore, being my purpose, to enquire
into the original, certainty, and extent of human knowledge ;
together with the grounds and degrees of belief, opinion, and
assent ; I shall not at present meddle with the physical consi-
deration of the mind ; or trouble myself to examine wherein its es-
sence consists, or by what motions of our spirits,or alterations of our
bodies, we come to have any sensation by our organs, or any ideas
in our understandings ; and whether those ideas do, in their for-
mation, any, or all of them, depend on matter or no : these are
speculations, which, however curious and entertaining, I shall
decline, as lying out of my way, in the design I am now upon.
It shall suffice to my present purpose, to consider the discerning
faculties of a man, as they are employed about the objects
which they have to do with : and I shall imagine I have not
wholly misemployed myself in the thoughts I shall have pn this
occasion, if, in this historical plain method, I can give any
account of the ways whereby our understandings come to

n

2 INTRODUCTION. Bookl.

attain those notions of things we have, and can set down any
measures of the certainty of our knowledge, or the grounds of
those persuasions, which are to be found amongst men, so
various, different, and wholly contradictory ; and yet asserted
somewhere or other with such assurance and confidence, that
he that shall take a view of the opinions of mankind, observe
their opposition, and at the same time consider the fondness
and devotion wherewith they are embraced, the resolution
and eagerness wherewith they are maintained, may perhaps
have reason to suspect, that either there is no such thing as
truth at all ; or that mankind hath no sufficient means to attain
a Certain knowledo;e of it.

§. 3. Method. — It is, therefore, worth while to search out the
bounds between opinion and knowledge ; and examine by what
measures, in things, whereof we have no certain knowledge, we
ought to regulate our assent, and moderate our persuasions.
Tn order whereunto, I shall pursue this following method.

First. I shall enquire into the original of those ideas, notions,
or whatever else you please to call them, which a man observes,
and is conscious to himself he has in his mind ; and the ways
whereby the understanding comes to be furnished with them.

Secondly. I shall endeavour to shew what knowledge the
understanding hath by those ideas ; and the certainty, evidence,
and extent of it.

Thirdhj. I shall make some enquiry into the nature and
grounds of faith or opinion; whereby I mean that assent which
we give to any proposition as true, of whose truth yet we have
no certain knowledge : and here we shall have occasion to ex-
amine the reasons and degrees of assent.

§. 4. Usefid to know the extent of onr compreliension. — If by
this enquiry into the nature of the understanding, I can discover
the powers thereof ; how far they reach ; to what things they
are in any degree proportionate, and where they fail us ; I sup-
pose it may be of use to prevail with the busy mind of man to
be more cautious in meddling with things exceeding its compre-
hension ; to stop when it is at the utmost extent of its tether ;
and to sit down in a quiet ignorance of those things, which,
upon examination, are found to be beyond the reach of our ca-
pacities. We should not then, perhaps, be so forward, out of
an affectation of an universal knowledge, to raise questions, and
perplex ourselves and others with disputes about things to which
our understandings are not suited ; and of which we cannot frame
in our minds any clear or distinct perceptions, or whereof (as it
has, perhaps, too often happened) we have not any notions at all.
If we can find out how far the understanding can extend its

Ch. 1 INTRODUCTION. 3

views, how far it has faculties to attain certainty, and in what
cases it can only judge and guess ; we may learn to content
ourselves with what is attainable by us in this state.

§. 5. Our capacity suited to our state and concerns. — For
though the comprehension of our understandings comes ex-
ceeding short of the vast extent of things, yet we shall have
cause enough to magnify the bountiful Author of our being, for
that proportion and degree of knowledge he has bestowed on us,
so far above all the rest of the inhabitants of this our mansion.
Men have reason to be well satisfied with what God hath
thought fit for them, since he has given them (as St. Peter says)
ZTcivTx "cj^o; ^ccvivnciisv(Ts€eiav, whatsoever is necessary for the con-
veniences of life, and information of virtue ; and has put within
the reach of their discovery the comfortable provision for this
life, and the way that leads to a better. How short soever their
knowledge may come of an universal or perfect comprehension
of whatsoever is, it yet secures their great concernments, that
they have light enough to lead them to the knowledge of their
Maker, and the sight of their own duties. Men may find
matter sufficient to busy their heads, and employ their hands
with variety, delight, and satisfaction ; if they will not boldly
quarrel with their own constitution, and throw away the bless-
ings their hands are filled with, because they are not big enouo-h
to grasp every thing. We shall not have much reason to com-
plain of the narrowness of our minds, if we will but employ
them about what may be of use to us ; for of that they are
very capable ; and it will be an unpardonable, as well as child-
ish peevishness, if we undervalue the advantages of our know-
lege, and neglect to improve it to the ends for which it was
given us, because there are some things that are set out of the
reach of it. It will be no excuse to an idle and untoward ser-
vant, who would not attend his business by candle-light, to
plead that he had not broad sunshine. The candle that is set
up in us, shines bright enough for all our purposes. The dis-
coveries we can make with this, ought to satisfy us ; and we
shall then use our understanding right, when we entertain all
objects in that way and proportion, that they are suited to our
faculties ; and upon those grounds, they are capable of being
proposed to us ; and not peremptorily, or intemperatelv, require
demonstration, and demand certainty, where probability only is
to be had, and which is sufficient to govern all our concern-
ments. If we will disbelieve every thing, because we cannot
certainly know all things, we shall do much-what as wisely as
he who would not use his l^gs, but sit still and perish, because
he had no wings to fly.

B 2

4 INTRODUCTION. Book 1.

§. 6. Knowledge of our capacity, a cure of scepticism and
idleness. — When we know our own strength, we shall the better
know what to undertake with hopes of success ; and when we
have well surveyed the powers of our own minds, and made
some estimate what we may expect from them, we shall not be
inclined either to sit still, and not set our thoughts on work at
all, in despair of knowing anything; nor, on the other side,
question every thing, and disclaim all knowledge, because some
things are not to be understood. It is of great use to the
sailor to know the length of his line, though he cannot with it
fathom all the depths of the ocean. It is well he knows that it
is long enough to reach the bottom, at such places as are neces-
sary to direct his voyage, and caution him against running upon
shoals that may ruin him. Our business here is not to know
all things, but those which concern our conduct. If we can
find out those measures whereby a rational creature, put in that
state which man is in, in this world, may and ought to govern
his opinions and actions depending thereon, we need not be
troubled that some other things escape our knowledge.

§. 7. Occasion of this essay. — This was that which gave the
first rise to this essay concerning the understanding. For I
thought that the first step towards satisfying several enquiries,
the mind of man was very apt to run into, was to take a survey
of our own understanding, examine our own powers, and see to
what things they were adapted. Till that was done, I suspected
we began at the wrong end, and in vain sought for satisfaction
in a quiet and sure possession of truths that most concerned us,
whilst we let loose our thoughts into the vast ocean of being; as
if all that boundless extent were the natural and unbounded pos-
session of our understandings, wherein there was nothing-
exempt from its decisions, or that escaped its comprehension.
Thus men, extending their enquiries beyond their capacities,
and letting their thoughts wander into those depths where they
can find no sure footing ; it is no wonder that they raise ques-
tions and multiply disputes, which never coming to any clear
resolution, are proper only to continue and increase their doubts,
and to confirm them at last in perfect scepticism. Whereas,
were the capacities of our understandings well considered, the
extent of our knowledge once discovered, and the horizon found,
which sets the bounds between the enlightened and dark parts
of things ; between what is, and what is not, comprehensible by
us ; men would, perhaps, with less scruple, acquiesce in the
avowed ignorance of the one, and employ their thoughts and
discourse, with more advantage and satisfaction, in the other.
§ 8. What idea stands for. — Thus much I thought necessary

Cli. 1. INTRODUCTION. 5

to say concerning the occasion of this enquiry into Human Un-
derstandino-. But, before I proceed on to what I have thought
on this subject, I must here in the entrance beg pardon of my
reader for the frequent use of the word " idea," which he will
find in the following treatise. It being that term which, I think,
serves best to stand for whatsoever is the object of the under-
standing when a man thinks ; I have used it to express whatever
is meant by phantasm, notion, species, or whatever it is, which
the mind can be employed about in thinking; and I could not
avoid frequently using it*.

I presume it will be easily granted me, that there are such
ideas in men's minds ; every one is conscious of them in himself,
and men's words and actions will satisfy him that they are in
others.

Our first enquiry then shall be, how they come into the mind.

* This modest apology of our autlior could not procure hira the free use of the
word idea : but great offence has been taken at it, and it has been censured as of dan-
gerous consequence : to which you may see what lie answers. "The world," (a) saitli the
Bishop of Worcester, " Jiath been strangely amused with ideas of late ; and we liave been
told, that strange things might be done by the help of ideas ; and yet these ideas, at last,
coiue to be only common notions of things, wliich we must make use of in our reasoning.
You (i. e. the author of tlie Essay concerning Human Understanding) say in that cliapter,
about the existence of God, you thought it niost proper to express yourself in the most
usual and familiar way, by common words and expressions. I would you had done so
quite through your book ; for then you had never given that occasion to the enemies of
our faith, to take up your new way of ideas, as an effectual battery (as they imagined)
against the mysteries of the Christian faith. But you might have enjoyed the satisfaction
of your ideas long enough before I had taken notice of them, unless 1 had found them
employed about doing mischief."

To which our author (b) replies, " It is plain, that that which your lordship apprehends
in my book, may be of dangerous consequence to the article which your lordship has
endeavoured to defend, is my introducing new terms ; and that which your lordship
instances in, is that of ideas. And the reason your lordship gives in every of these
places why your lordship has such an apprehension of ideas, that they may be of
dangerous consequence to that article of faith which your lordship has endeavoured
to defend, is, because they have been applied to such purposes. And I might
(your lordship says) have enjoyed the satisfaction of my ideas long enough, before
you had taken notice of them, unless your lordship had found them employed in doing
mischief. Which, at last, as I humbly conceive, amounts to thus much, and no more,
viz. that your lordship fears ideas, i. e. the term ideas, may, sometime or other, prove of
very dangerous consequence to what your lordship has endeavoured to defend, because
they have been made use of in arguing against it. For I am sure your lordship does not
mean, that you apprehend the things signified by ideas, may be of dangerous consequence
to the article of faith your lordship endeavours to defend, because they have been made
use of against it : for (besides that your lordship mentions terms) that would be to
expect tliat those who oppose that article, should oppose it witliout any thoughts ; for the
things signified by ideas, are nothing but the immediate objects of our minds in thinking :
so that unless any one can oppose the article your lordship defends, without thinking on
something, lie must use the things signified by ideas ; for he that thinks, must have some
immediate object of his mind in thinking : i. e. must have ideas.

" But whether it be the name or the thing ; ideas in sound, or ideas in signification ; that
your lordship apprehends may be of dangerous consequence to that article of faith
which your lordship endeavours to defend ; it seems to me, I will not say a new way of

(a) Answer to Mr. Locke's First Letter.

( b) In his Second Letter to the Bishop of Worcester.

J{ 3

6 INTRODUCTION. Book 1.

reasoning (for that belongs to nie) but were it not your lordship's, I slioulJ think it a
very extraordinary way of reasoning, to write against a book, wherein your lordship
acknowledges they are not used to bad purposes, nor employed to do mischief; only
because you find that ideas are, by those who oppose your lordship, employed to do
niiscliief ; and so apprehend they may be of dangerous consequence to the article your
lordship has engaged in the defence of. For whether ideas as terms, or ideas as the
immediate objects of tlie mind, signified by those terms, may be, in your lordship's
apprehension, of dangerous consequences to that article ; 1 do not see how your lordsliip's
writing against the notions of ideas, as stated in my book, will at all hinder your
opposers from employing them in doing mischief, as before.

" However, be that as it will, so it is, that your lordship apprehends these new terms,
these ideas with which tlie world liath, of late, been so strangely amused, (though at last
they come to be only common notions of things, as your lordship owns) may be of
dangerous consequence to that article.

" My lord, if any, in answer to your lordship's sermons, and in other pampldets,
wherein your lordship complains they have talked so much of ideas, have been
troublesome to your lordship with that term ; it is not strange that your lordship should
be tired with that sound : but how natural soever it be to our weak constitutions, to be
ollended with any sound, wherewith an importunate din hath been made aoout our ears ;
yet, my lord, I know your lordship has a better opinion of the articles of our faith, than
to think any of them can be overturned, or so much as shaken, with a breath formed
into any sound or term whatsoever.

'' Names are but the arbitrary marks of conception ; and so they be sufficiently appro-
priated to them in their use. I know no other difl'erence any of them have in particular,
but as they are of easy or difficult pronunciation, and of a more or less pleasant sound ;
and what particular antipathies there may be in men, to some of them, upon that account,
it is not easy to be foreseen. This I am sure, no term whatsoever, in itself, bears one
more than another, any opposition to the truth of any kind ; they are only propositions
that do, or can, oppose the truth of any article or doctrine : and thus no term is privileged
from being set in opposition to truth.

" There is no word to be found, which may not be brought into a proposition, wherein
the most sacred and most evident truths may be opposed ; but that is not a fault in the
term, but him that uses it. And, therefore, I cannot easily persuade myself (whatever
your lordship hatli said in the heat of your concern) that you have bestowed so much
pains upon my book, because the word idea is so much used there. For though upon
ray saying, in my chapter about the existence of God, ' That I scarce use the word idea
in that chapter,' your lordship wishes that 1 had done so quite through my book. Yet 1
must rather look upon that as a compliment to me, wherein your lordship wished, that
my book had been all through suited to vulgar readers, not used to that and the like
terms, than that your lordship has such an apprehension of the word idea ; or that there
is any such harm in the use of it, instead of the word notian, (with which your lordship
seems to take it to agree in signification) that your lordship would think it worth your
while to spend any part of your valuable time and thoughts about my book, for having
the word idea so often in it ; for this would be to make your lordship to write only
against an impropriety of speech. I own to your lordship, it is a great condescension in
your lordship to have done it, if that word have such a share in what your lordship has
writ against my book, as some expressions would persuade one ; and 1 would, for the
satisfaction of your lordship, change the term of idea for a better, if your lordship, or any
one, could help me to it. For, that niitioii will not so well stand for every immediate
object of the mind in thinking, as idea does, I have (as I guess) somewhere given a
reason in my book, by shewing that the term notion is more peculiarly appropriated to a
certain sort of those objects, which I call mixed modes ; and, I tliink, it would not
sound altogether so well, to say, the notion of red, and the notioii of a horse ; as the
idea of red, and the idea of a horse. But if any one thinks it will, I contend not : for
I have no fondness for, no antipathy to, any particular articulate sounds : nor do I think
there is any spell or fascination in any of them.

" But be the word idea proper or improper, I do not see how it is the better or the worse,
because ill-men have made use of it, or because it has been made use of to bad purposes;
for if that be a reason to condemn or lay it by, we must lay by tlie terms, scripture, reason,
perception, distinct, clear, &c. Nay, the I'ame of God himself will not escape ; for I
do not think any one of these, or any other term, can be produced, which hath not been
made use of by such men, and to such purposes. And, therefore, if the Unitarians, in

Ck. 1. liN TKODUCTION. 7

tlieir late paniplilets, have talked very much of, and straugely amused the world witii, ideusi
1 cannot believe your lordship will think that word one jot the worse, or the more dan-
gerous, because they use it ; any more than, for their use of tl)em, you will think reason
or scripture terms ill or dangerous. J\nd, therefore, what your lordsliip says, in the
bottom of this 93d page, that 1 might have enjoyed tJie satisfaction of my ideas long
enou>j-h before your lordship had taken notice of them, unless you had found them em-
iiloyed in doing mischief, will, 1 presume, when your lordship has considered again of
this matter, prevail with your lordship to let me enjoy still the satisfaction 1 take in my
ideas, i. e. as much satisfaction as 1 can take in so small a matter, as is llie using of a
proper terra, notwithstanding it should be employed by otliers in doing mischief.

" For, my lord, if I should leave it wholly out of my book, and substitute the word
7iotion every where in the room of it; and every body else should do so too, (though
your lordship does not, i suppose, suspect tliat 1 have the vanity to think they would
follow my examjde) my book would, it seems, be the more to your lordsliip's liking; but
I do not see how this would one jot abate the mischief your lordshij) comjdains of. For
tl;e Unitarians might as much employ notions, as they do now ideas, to ilo mischief ; unless
thejf are such fools to think they can conjure with tliis notable word idea ; and that the
force of what thev say, lies in tlie sound, and not in die signification of their tenus.

"This I am sure of, that the truths of the Christian religion can be no more battered by
one word than another ; nor can they be beaten down or endangered by any sound what-
soever. And 1 am apt to Halter myself, that your lordship is satisfied that there is no
harm in the word ideas, because you say, you should not have taken any notice of my
ideas, if the enemies of our faith had not taken up ray new way of ideas, as an effectual
battery against the mysteries of the Christian faith. In which place, by new way of
ideas, nothing, I think, can be construed to be meant, but my expressing myself by that
of ideas, and not by other more common words, and of ancienter standing in the English
language.

" As to tlie objection of the author's way by ideas being a new way, he thus answers :
My new way bti ideas, or my way by ideas, which often occurs in your lordship's letter,
is, 1 confess, a very large and doubtful expression ; and may, in the full latitude, compre-
hend my whole essay; because, treating in it of the understanding, which is nothing but
the faculty of thinking, I could not well treat of that faculty of the mind which consists
in tliinking, without considering the immediate objects of the mind in thinking, which 1
call ideas : and, therefore, in treating of the understanding, I guess it will not be thought
strange, that the greatest part of my book has been taken up in considering what these
objects of the mind, in thinking, are ; whence they come ; what use the mind makes of
them, in its several ways of thinking ; and what are the outward marks, whereby it
signifies them to others, or records them for its own use. And this, in short, is my way
by ideas, that which your lordship calls my neiu way by ideas; which, my lord, if it be
new, it is but a new •history of an old tiling. For I think it will not be doubted, that
men always performed the actions of thinking, reasoning, believing, and knowing, just
after the' same manner that they do now; though whether the same account has here-
tofore been given of the way how they performed these actions, or wherein they consisted,
I do not know. Were 1 as well read as your lordship, I should liavc been safe from Uiat
gentle reprimand of your lordship's, for thiiiking my way of ideas new, for want of look-
ing into other men's thoughts, which apjjcar in their books.

" Your lordship's words, as an acknowledgment of your instructions in the case, and as
a warning to others, who will be so bold adventurers as to spin any tiling barely out of
their own thoughts, I shall set down at large ; and they run thus : whether vou took this
way of ideas from the modern philosopher, mentioned by you, is not at all material ; but
I intended no reflection upon you in it (for that you mean by my conmiending you as a
scholar of so great a master). I never meant to take from you the h(mour of your own
inventions ; and 1 do believe you, when you say, that you wrote from your own thoughts,
and the ideas you had there. But many things may seem new to one, that converses only
with his own thoughts, which really are not so ; as he niny find, when he looks into the
thoughts of otlier men, which appear in their books. And, therefore, although I have a
just esteem for the invention of such, who can spin volumes barely out of tlieir own
thoughts ; yet I am apt to think they would oblige the world more, if, after they have
thought so much themselves, they would examine what thoughts others have had before
them, concerning the same things ; that so those may not he liiought their own inventions,
whicli are common to themselves and others. U a man should try all tlie magnetical
experiments himself, and publish them as his own thouglrts, he might take himself to be

B 4

8 [introduction. Bookl.

the inventor of tlieni. Hut lie that examines and compares them with what Gilbert and
others liave done hefore him, will not diminish tlio praise of his diligence, but may wish
he iiad compared his thoughts with other men's ; by which the world would receive greater
advantage, although he lost the honour of being an original.

To alleviate my fault Jierein, I agree with your lordsliip, that many things may seem
new to one that converses only with his own thoughts, which really are not so : but I
must crave leave to suggest to your lordship, that if in the spinning of them out of his own
thoughts, they seem new to him, he is certainly the inventor of them ; and they may as
justly be thought his own invention, as any one's ; and he is as certainly the inventor of
them, as any one who tliought on them before him : the distinction of invention, or not
invention, lying not in thinking first, or not first, but in borrowing, or not borrowing, our
thoughts from another ; and he to whom, sjiinning them out of his own thouglits, tliey
seem new, could not certainly borrow them from another. So he truly invented printing
in Europe, who, without any communication with the Chinese, spun it out of his own
thoughts ; tliough it was never so true, that the Chinese had the use of printing, nay, of
printing in the very same way, among them, many ages before him. So that he that spins
any thing out of his own thoughts, that seems new to him, cannot cease to think it his own
invention, should he examine ever so far, what tlioughts others have had before him, con-
cerning the same thing, and should find by examining, that they had tlie same thoughts
too.

" But what great obligation this would be to theworld, or weighty cause of tumingover
and looking into books, 1 confess I do not see. The great end to me, in conversing with
my own or otlier men's thoughts, in matters of speculation, is to find truth, without being
much concerned whether my own spinning of it out of mine, or their spinning of it out
of their own thoughts, helps me to it. And how little I ati'ect the honour of an original,
may be seen at that place of my book, where, if any where, that itch of vain glory was
likeliest to have shewn itself, had I been so over-run with it, as to need a cure. It is
where I speak of certainty, in these following words, taken notice of by your lordship,
in another place : ' I think I iiave shewn wherein it is that certainty, real certainty consists,
which wliatever it was to others, was, I confess, to me, heretofore, one of those desiderata
which I found great want of.'

"Here, my lord, however new this seemed to me, and the more so because possibly I
had in vain hunted for it in the books of others ; yet I spoke of it as new, only to my-
self ; leaving others in tlie undisturbed possession of what, either by invention, or reading,
was theirs before ; without assuming to myself any other honour, but that of my own
ignorance, until that time, if others before had shewn wherein certainty lay. And yet,
my lord, if I had upon this occasion been forward to assume to myself the honour of
an original, I had been pretty safe in it ; since I should have had your lordship for my
guarantee and vindicator in tliat point, who are pleased to call it new ; and, as such, to
write against it.

"And truly, my lord, in this respect, my book has had very unlucky stars, since it hath
had the misfortune to displease your lordship, with many things in it, for their novelty ; as,
71610 way of reasoning ; new hypothesis about reason ; new sort of certainty ; new terms ;
new way of ideas ; new method of certainty, &;c. And yet, in other places, your lordship
seems to think it wortliy in me of your lordship's reflection, for saying, but what others
have said before ; as where 1 say, ' In the ditlerent make of men's tempers, and applica-
tion of their thoughts, some arguments prevail more on one, and some on another, for the
confirmation of the same truth ;' your lordsliip asks, ' What is this different from what all
men of understanding have said?' Again, I take it, your lordsliip meant not these words
for a commendation of my book, where you say, But if no more be meant by ' The
simple ideas that come in by sensation, or reflection, and their being the foundation of our
knowledge,' but that our notions of things come in, either from our senses, or the exercise
of our minds : as there is nothing extraordinary in the discovery, so your lordship is far
enough from opposing that, wherein you think all mankind are agreed.

"And again, but what need all this great noise about ideas and certainty, true and real
certainty by ideas; if, after all, it comes only to this, that our ideas only represent to us
such things, from whence we bring arguments to jirove the truth of things?

"But the world has been strangely amused with ideas of late ; and we have been told,
that strange things might be done by the help of ideas, and yet these ideas, at last, come
to be only common notions of things, which we must make use of in our reasoning. And
to the like purpose in other places.

"Whether, therefore, at last, your lordship will resolve, that it is new or no,; or more

Ck.'l. ON INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND. 9

faulty l»y its being ik \v, must be left to your lordsliip. 'J'bis I find by it, ibat my book
cannot avoid being condemned on the one side, or the other ; nor do 1 see a possibility to
help it. If there be readers that like only new thoughts ; or, on tiie other side, others that
can bear notliiugbut what can be justified by received authorities in print ; I must desire
them to make themselves amends in that part which they like, for the displeasure they re-
ceive in the other : but if any should be so exact, as to find fault with both, truly I know
not what to say to them. The case is a plain case ; the book is all over naught, and there
is not a sentence in it, that is net, either from its aiitiiiuity or novelty, to be condemned j
and so tliere is a short end of it. From your lordship, indeed, in particular, I can hope for
something better ; for your lordship thinks the general design of it so good, tliat this, I
Hatter myself, would prevail on your lordship to preserve it from the fire.

" But as to the way your lordship thinks I should have taken to prevent the having it
ihouglit my invention, when it was common to me with otliers, it unluckily so fell out, in
the subject of my Essay of Human Understanding, tliat 1 could not look into the thoughts
of other men to inform myself. For my design being, as well as I could, to copy nature,
and to give an account of the operations of the mind in thinking, I could look into no-
body's understanding but my own, to see how it wrought; nor have a prospect into other
men's minds, to view their thoughts there ; and observe what steps and motions they
took, and by what gradations they proceeded in their acquainting themselves with truth,
and tlieir advance in knowledge : what we find of tlieir thoughts in books, is but the result
of this, and not tiie progress and working of their minds, in coming to the opinions and
conclusions they set down and published.

" All, therefore, that 1 can say of my book, is, that it is a copy of my own mind, in its
several ways of operation. And all that I can say for the publishing of it, is, that I think
the intellectual faculties are made, and operate alike in most men; and that some that I
shewed it to before I published it, liked it so well, that I was confirmed in that opinion.
And, therefore, if it should happen that it should not be so, but that some men should have
ways of thinking, reasoning, or arriving at certainty, different from others, and above those
that 1 find my mind to use and acquiesce in, 1 do not see of what use my book can be to
them. 1 can only make it my humble request, in my own name, and in the name of those
that are of my size, who find their minds work, reason, and know in the same low way
that mine does, that those men of a more hapj)y genius would shew us the way of their
nobler flights ; and particularly would discover to us their shorter or surer way to certainty,
tlian by ideas, and the observing their agreement or disagreement.

" Your lordship adds, ' But now it seems, nothing is intelligible but what suits witli the
new way of ideas' My lord, tlie new way of ideas, and the old way of speaking .in-
telligibly (a) v/aa always, and ever will be, the same: and if I may take the liberty to
declare my sense of it, herein it consists, 1. That a man use no words but such as he
makes the sig^i of certain determined objects of his mind in thinking, which he can make
known to another. 2. Next, That he use the same word steadily, for the sign of the same
immediate object of his mind in thinking. 3. That he join tliose words together in pro-
positions, according to the grammatical rules of that language he speaks in. 4. That he
unite those sentences into a coherent discourse. Thus, and thus only, I humbly conceive
any one may preserve himself from the confines and suspicion of jargon, whether he
pleases to call those immediate objects of his mind, which his words do, or should stand
for, ideas or no."

(o) Mr. Locke's Third Letter to the Bishop of Worcester.

CHAPTER II.

MO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND.

§. 1. The way shown how we come hy any knowledge, sufficient
to prove it not innate. — It is an established opinion amongst
some men, that tliere are in the understanding certain innate
principles; some primary notions. Koivai evvoiai, characters, as it
were, stamped upon the mind of man, wliich the soul receives in

10 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES Book 1.

its very first being; and brings into the world with it. It would
be sufficient to convince unprejudiced readers of the falseness
of this supposition, if I should only shew (as I hope I shall in
the following parts of this discourse) how men, barely by the
use of their natural faculties, may attain to all the knowledge they
have, without the help of any innate impressions ; and may ar-
rive at certainty, without any such original notions or principles.
For I imagine any one will easily grant, that it would be im-
pertinent to suppose, the ideas of colour innate in a creature, to
whom God hath given sight and a power to receive them by the
eyes from external objects : and no less unreasonable would it
be to attribute several truths to the impressions of nature, and
innate characters, when w-e may observe in ourselves faculties fit
to attain as easy and certain knowledge of them, as if they were
originally imprinted on the mind.

But because a man is not permitted without censure to follow
his own thoughts in the search of truth, when they lead him
ever so little out of the common road, I shall set down the
reasons that made me doubt of the truth of that opinion, as an
excuse for my mistake, if I be in one ; which I leave to be con-
sidered by those, who, with me, dispose themselves to embrace
truth, wherever they find it.

§. 2. General assent, the great argument. — There is nothing-
more commonly taken for granted, than that there are certain
principles, both speculative and practical (for they speak of both),
universally agreed upon by all mankind ; which, therefore, they
argue, must needs be constant impressions, which the souls of
men receive in their first beings, and which they bring into the
world with them, as necessarily and really as they do any of their
inherent faculties.

§. 3. Universal consent proves nothing innate. — This argu-
ment, drawn from universal consent, has this misfortune in it,
that if it were true in matter of fact, that there were certain
truths, wherein all mankind agreed, it would not prove them
innate, if there can be any other way shewn, how men may come
to that universal agreement, in the things they do consent in ;
which I presume may be done.

§. 4. " What is, is ," and " it is impossible for the same thing to he,
and not to he" not universally assented to. — But, which is worse,
this argum.ent of universal consent, which is made use of to
prove innate principles, seems to me a demonstration that there
are none such ; because there are none to which all mankind
give an universal assent. I shall begin with the speculative, and
instance in those magnified principles of demonstration, " what-
soever is, is ;" and " it is impossible for the same thing to be, and

Ch.2. IN THE MIND. U

not to be," which, of all others, I think have the most allowed
title to innate. These have so settled a reputation of maxims
universally received, that it will, no doubt, be thought strange
if any one should seem to question it. But yet I take liberty to
say, that these propositions are so far from having an universal
assent, that there are a great part of mankind to whom they are
not so much as known.

§. 5. Not on the mind naturally imprinted, because not known
to children, idiots, 5fc. — For, first, it is evident, that all children
and idiots have not the least apprehension or thought of them :
and the want of that is enough to destroy that universal assent,
which must needs be the necessary concomitant of all innate
truths : it seeming to me near a contradiction, to say, that there
are truths imprinted on the soul, which it perceives or under-
stands not: imprinting, if it signifies any thing, being nothing
else but the making certain truths to be perceived. For to im-
print any thing on the mind, without the mind's perceiving it,
seems to me hardly intelligible. If, therefore, children and
idiots have souls, have minds, with those impressions upon
them, they must unavoidably perceive them, and necessarily
know and assent to these truths ; which, since they do not, it is
evident that there are no such impressions. For if they are not
notions naturally imprinted, how can they be innate ? and if
they are notions imprinted, how can they be unknown ? to say
a notion is imprinted on the mind, and yet at the same time to
say, that the mind is ignorant of it, and never yet took notice of
it, is to make this impression nothing. No proposition can be
said to be in the mind, which it never yet knew, which it was
never yet conscious of. For if any one may, then, by the same
reason, all propositions that are true, and the mind is capable
ever of assenting to, may be said to be in the mind, and to be
imprinted : since, if any one can be said to be in the mind,
which it never yet knew, it must be only because it is capable of
knowing it, and so the mind is of all truths it ever shall know.
Nay, thus truths may be imprinted on the mind, which it never
did, nor ever shall know : for a man may live long, and die at
last in ignorance of many truths, which his mind was capable of
knowing, and that with certainty. So that if the capacity of
knowing, be the natural impression contended for, all the truths
a man ever comes to know, will, by this account, be every one
of them innate ; and this great point will amount to no more,
but only to a very improper way of speaking; which, whilst it
pretends to assert the contrary, says nothing different from
those who deny innate principles. For nobody, I think,' ever
denied that the mind was capable of knowing several truths.

12 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES Book 1.

The capacity, they say, is innate ; the knowledge, acquired. But,
then, to what end such contest for certain innate maxims ? if
truths can be imprinted on the understanding without being per-
ceived, I can see no difference there can be between any truths
the mind is capable of knowing in respect of their original :
they must all be innate, or all adventitious : in vain shall a man
go about to distinguish them. He, therefore, that talks of innate
notions in the understanding, cannot (if he intend thereby any
distinct sort of truths) mean such truths to be in the understand-
ing, as it never perceived, and is yet wholly ignorant of. For if
these words (to be in the understanding) have any propriety, they
signify to be understood ; so that, to be in the understanding,
and not to be understood ; to be in the mind, and never to be
perceived, is all one, as to say, any thing is, and is not, in the
mind or understanding. If, therefore, these two propositions,
" whatsoever is, is ;" and, " it is impossible for the same thing to
be, and not to be," are by nature imprinted, children cannot be
ignorant of them ; infants, and all that have souls, must necessarily
have them in their understandings, know the truth of them, and
assent to it.

§. 6. That men know them when they come to the use of reason,
ansiuered. — To avoid this, it is usually answered, that all men
know and assent to them, when they come to the use of reason,
and this is enough to prove them innate. I answer,

§. 7. Doubtful expressions, that have scarce any signification,
go for clear reasons, to those who being pre-possessed, take not
the pains to examine even what they themselves say. For to
apply this answer with any tolerable sense to our present pur-
pose, it must signify one of these two things ; either, that as
soon as men come to the use of reason, these supposed native
inscriptions come to be known, and observed by them : or else,
that the use and exercise of men's reason assists them in the
discovery of these principles, and certainly makes them known
to them.

§. 8. If reason discovered them, that ivould not prove them
innate. — If they mean, that by the use of reason, men may
discover these principles, and that this is sufficient to prove
them innate, their way of arguing will stand thus, viz. That
whatever truths reason can certainly discover to us, and make
us firmly assent to, those are all naturally imprinted on the
mind ; since that universal assent which is made the mark of
them, amounts to no more but this ; that by the use of reason,
we are capable to come to a certain knowledge of, and assent to,
them ; and by this means there will be no difference between
the maxims of the mathematicians, and theorems they deduce

Ch. 2. IN THi: iVIIND. 13

from them; all must be equally allowed innate; they being
all discoveries made by the use of reason, and truths that a
rational creature may certainly come to know, if he apply his
thoughts rightly that way.

§. 9. It is false that reason discovers them. — But how can these
men think the use of reason necessary to discover principles
that are supposed innate, when reason (if we may believe them)
is nothing else but the foculty of deducing- unknown truths
from principles or propositions that are already known? That
certainly can never be thought innate, which we have need of
reason to discover, unless, as I have said, we will have all the
certain truths that reason ever teaches us, to be innate. We
may as well think the use of reason necessary to make our eyes
discover visible objects, as that there should be need of reason,
or the exercise thereof, to make the understanding see what is
originally engraven in it, and cannot be on the understanding,
before it be perceived by it. So that to make reason discover
those truths thus imprinted, is to say, that the use of reason
discovers to a man what he knew before; and if men have those
innate impressed truths originally, and before the use of reason,
and yet are always ignorant of them, till they come to the use
of reason, it is in effect to say, that men know, and know them
not, at the same time.

§. 10. It will perhaps be said, that mathematical demonstra-
tions, and other truths, that are not innate, are not assented to,
as soon as proposed, wherein they are distinguished from these
maxims, and other innate truths. I shall have occasion to speak
of assent, upon the first proposing, more particularly by and by.
I shall here only, and that very readily, allow, that these maxims,
and mathematical demonstrations, are in this different ; that the
one has need of reason, using of proofs, to make them out, and
to gain our assent; but the other, as soon as understood, are
without any the least reasoning, embraced and assented to. But
I withal beg leave to observe, that it lays open the weakness of
this subterfuge, which requires the use of reason for the dis-
covery of these general truths : since it must be confessed, that
in their discovery, there is no use made of reasoning at all.
And I think those who give this answer, will not be forward to
affirm, that the knowledge of this maxim, " That it is impossible
for the same thing to be, and not to be," is a deduction of our
reason. For this would be to destroy that bounty of nature
they seem so fond of, whilst they make the knowledge of those
principles to depend on the labour of our thoughts. For all
reasoning is search, and casting about, and requires pains and
application. And how can it with any tolerable sense be sup-

14 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES Book 1.

posed, that what was imprinted by nature, as the foundation and
guide of our reason, should need the use of reason to discover
it?

§.11. Those who will take the pains to reflect with a little
attention on the operations of the understanding, will find that
this ready assent of the mind to some truths, depends not either
on native inscription, or the use of reason; but on a faculty of
the mind quite distinct from both of them, as we shall see here-
after. Reason, therefore, having nothing to do in procuring our
assent to these maxims, if by saying, that men know and assent
to them, when they come to the use of reason, be meant, that
the use of reason assists us in the knowledge of these maxims,
it is utterly false ; and were it true, would prove them not to be
innate.

§. 12. The coming to the use of reason, not the time we come
to knoiu these maxims. — If by knowing and assenting to them,
when we come to the use of reason, be meant, that this is the
time when they come to be taken notice of by the mind ; and
that as soon as children come to the use of reason, they come
also to know and assent to these maxims ; this also is false and
frivolous. First. It is false, because it is evident these maxims
are not in the mind so early as the use of reason ; and, therefore,
the coming to the use of reason is falsely assigned as the time
of their discovery. How many instances of the use of reason
may we observe in children, long time before they have any
knowledge of this maxim, " that it is impossible for the same thing
to be, and not to be ?" And a great part of illiterate people, and
savages, pass many years, even of their rational age, without
ever thinking on this and the like general propositions. I grant,
men come not to the knowledge of these general and more ab-
stract truths, which are thought innate, till they come to the use
of reason ; and I add, nor then neither. Which is so, because
till after they come to the use of reason, those general abstract
ideas are not framed in the mind, about which those general
maxims are, which are mistaken for innate principles, but are
indeed discoveries made, and verities introduced, and brought
into the mind by the same way, and discovered by the same
steps, as several other propositions, which nobody was ever so
extravagant as to suppose innate. This I hope to make plain in
the sequel of this discourse. I allow, therefore, a necessity, that
men should come to the use of reason, before they get the know-
ledge of those general truths ; but deny, that men's coming to
the use of reason, is the time of their discovery.

§. 13. By this, they are not distinguished from other knowdble
truths. — In the mean time it is observable, that this saying, That

Ch. 1. IN Tllli MIND. 15

men know and assent to these maxims, when they come to the
use of reason, amounts, in reality of fact, to no more but this, that
they are never known, nor taken notice of, before the use of
reason, but may possibly be assented to sometime after, during
a man's life ; but when, is uncertain ; and so may all other know-
able truths, as well as these ; which, therefore, have no advantage
nor distinction from others, by this note of being known when
we come to the use of reason ; nor are thereby proved to be in-
nate, but quite the contrary.

§. 14. If coming to the use of reason were the time of their
discovery, it would not prove them innate. — But, secondly, were
it true, that the precise time of their being known, and assented
to, were, when men come to the use of reason, neither would
that prove them innate. This way of arguing is as frivolous, as
the supposition itself is false. For by what kind of logic will
it appear, that any notion is originally by nature imprinted in
the mind in its first constitution, because it comes first to be
observed and assented to, when a faculty of the mind, which has
quite a distinct province, begins to exert itself; and, therefore,
the coming to the use of speech, if it were supposed the time
that these maxims are first assented to, (which it may be with as
much truth, as the time when men come to the use of reason)
would be as good a proof that they were innate, as to say, they
are innate, because men assent to them when they come to the
use of reason. I agree then with these men of innate principles,
that there is no knowledge of these general and self-evident
maxims in the mind, till he comes to the exercise of reason :
but I deny that the coming to the use of reason, is the precise
time when they are first taken notice of; and, if that were the
precise time, I deny that it would prove them innate. All that
can with any truth be meant by this proposition, that men assent
to them when they come to the use of reason, is no more but
this, that the making of general abstract ideas, and the under-
standing of general names, being a concomitant of the rational
faculty, and growing up with it, children commonly get not those
general ideas, nor learn the names that stand for them, till having
for a good while exercised their reason about familiar and more
^particular ideas, they are, by their ordinary discourse and actions
with others, acknowledged to be capable of rational conversation.
If assentins: to these maxims, when men come to the use of
reason, can be true in any other sense, I desire it may be shewn ;
or at least, how in this, or any other sense, it proves them
innate.

§. 15. The steps by which the mind attains several truths,—
The senses at first let in particular ideas, anrl ftirnish the yet

ItJ ISO INNATE PRINCIPLES Book 1.

empty cabinet; and the mind by degrees growing familiar with
some of them, they are lodged in the memory, and names got
to them. Afterwards the mind proceeding farther, abstracts
them, and by degrees learns the use of general names. In this
manner the mind comes to be furnished with ideas and language,
the materials about which to exercise the discursive faculty ;
and the use of reason becomes daily more visible, as these
materials, that give it employment, increase. But though the
having of general ideas, and the use of general words and reason,
usually grow together, yet I see not how this any way proves
them innate. The knowledge of some truths, I confess, is veiy
early in the mind ; but in a way that shews them not to be in-
nate. For if we will observe, we shall find it still to be about
ideas, not innate, but acquired ; it being about those first, which
are imprinted by external things, with which infants have earliest
to do, which make the most frequent impressions on their senses.
In ideas thus got, the mind discovers, that some agree, and others
differ, probably as soon as it has any use of memory ; as soon
as it is able to retain and perceive distinct ideas. But whether
it be then, or no, this is certain, it does so long before it has
the use of words, or comes to that, which we commonly call " the
use of reason." For a child knows as certainly, before it can
speak, the difference between the ideas of sweet and bitter (i. e.
that sweet is not bitter), as it knows afterwards (when it comes
to speak) that wormwood and sugar-plumbs are not the same
thing.

§.16. A child knows not that three and four are equal to
seven, until he comes to be able to count to seven, and has got
the name and idea of equality ; and then upon explaining those
words, he presently assents to, or rather perceives the truth of
that proposition. But neither does he then readily assent,
because it is an innate truth, nor was his assent wanting till
then, because he wanted the use of reason; but the truth of it
appears to him, as soon as he has settled in his mind the clear
and distinct ideas that these names stand for ; and then he
knows the truth of that proposition, upon the same grounds, and
by the same means, that he knew before, that a rod and a cherry
are not the same thing; and upon the same grounds also, that
he may come to know afterwards, " that it is impossible for the
same thing to be, and not to be," as shall be more fully shown here-
after. So that the later it is before any one comes to have those
general ideas about which those maxims are; or to know the
signification of those general terms that stand for them ; or to
put together in his mind the ideas they stand for; the later also
will it be before he comes to assent to those maxims, whose

Ch. -2. IN THE MIND. 17

terms, with the ideas they stand for, being no more innate than
those of a cat or a weasel, he must stay till time and observation
have acquainted him with them ; and then he will be in a
capacity to know the truth of these maxims, upon the first
occasion that shall make him put together those ideas in his
mind, and observe whether they agree or disagree, according as
is expressed in those propositions. And, therefore, it is, that a
man knows that eighteen and nineteen are equal to thirty-seven,
by the same self-evidence that he knows one and two to be equal
to three ; yet a child knows this not so soon as the other ; not
for want of the use of reason ; but because the ideas the woi-ds
eighteen, nineteen, and thirty-seven stand for, are not so soon
got, as those which are signified by one, two, and three.

§. 17. Assenting as soon as proposed and understood, proves
them not innate. — This evasion, therefore, of general assent when
men come to the use of reason, failing as it does, and leaving
no difference between those supposed innate, and other truths,
that are afterwards acquired and learnt, men have endeavoured
to secure an universal assent to those they call maxims, by
saying, they are generally assented to as soon as proposed, and
the terms they are proposed in, understood : seeing all men,
even children, as soon as they hear and understand the terms,
assent to these propositions, they think it is sufficient to prove
them innate. For since men never fail, after they have once
understood the words, to acknowledge them for undoubted
truths, they would infer that certainly these propositions were
first lodged in the understanding, which, without any teaching,
the mind, at the very first proposal, immediately closes with
and assents to, and after that never doubts again.

§. 18. If such an assent he a mark of innate, then " that one
and two are equal to three ; that siveetness is not bitterness ;" and
a thousand the like, ninst be innate. — In answer to this, I
demand whether " ready assent given to a proposition upon first
hearing and understanding the terms, be a certain mark of
innate principle ?" If it be not, such a general assent is in vain
urged as a proof of them : if it be said that it is a mark of
innate, they must then allow all such propositions to be innate
•which are generally assented to as soon as heard, whereby they
will find themselves plentifully stored with innate principles.
For upon the same ground, viz., of assent at first hearing and
understanding the terms, that men would have those maxims
pass for innate, they must also admit several propositions about
numbers, to be innate : and thus, that one and two, are equal to
three ; that two and two are equal to four ; and a multitude of
other the like propositions in numbers, that every body assents

1 » so IN N ATJ : PR J NCI PL KS Book 1 .

to at first hearing and understanding the terms, must have a
place amongst these innate axioms. Nor is this the prerogative
of numbers alone, and propositions made about several of them ;
but even natural philosophy, and all the other sciences, afford
propositions which are sure to meet with assent as soon as they
are understood. That two bodies cannot be in the same place,
is a truth that nobody any more sticks at, than at these maxims,
" That it is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be ; that
while is not black ; that a square is not a circle ; and that
yellowness is not sweetness ;" these, and a million of such other
propositions, as many, at least, as we have distinct ideas of, every
pian in his wils, at first hearing, and knowing what the names
stand for, must necessarily assent to. If these men will be true
to their own rule, and have assent at first hearing- and under-
standing the tgrijis to be a mark of innate, they must allow
not only as many innate propositions as men have distinct
ideas, but as many as men can make propositions wherein
different ideas are denied one of another. Since every propo-
sition, wherein one different idea is denied of another, will as
certainly find assent at first hearing and understanding the terms,
as this general one, " it is impossible for the same thing to be, and
not to be ;" or that which is the foundation of it, and is the
..easier understood of the two, '•' the same is not different :" by
which account they will have legions of innate propositions of this
sort, without mentioning any other. But since no proposition
can be innate, unless the ideas about which it is, be innate ;; this
will be to suppose all our ideas of colours, sounds, tastes, figure,
&c., innate ; than which, there cannot be any thing more
opposite to reason and experience. Universal and ready assent
upon hearing and understanding the terms, is (I grant) a mark
of self-evidence ; but self-evidence, depending not on innate
impressions, but on something else, (as we shall show hereafter)
belongs to several propositions, which nobody was yet so
extravagant as to pretend to be innate.

§. 19. Such less general propositions knoivn before these
universal maxims, — Nor let it be said, that those more particular
self-evident propositions, which are assented to at first hearing,
as, that one and two are equal to three; that green is not red,&c.,
are received as the consequence of those more universal pro-
positions, which are looked on as innate principles ; since any
one, who will but take the pains to observe what passes in the
understanding, will certainly find that these, and the like less
general propositions, are certainly known, and firmly assented
to, by those who are utterly ignorant of those more general
maxims ; and so, being earlier in the mind than those (as they

(7f. 2. IN THK MIND. li)

are called) first principles, cannot owe to them the assent
wherewith they are received at first hearing.

§. 20. One and one equal to two, &;c., not general nor useful,
answered. — If it be said, that ' these propositions, viz., two and
two are equal to four ; red is not blue, 8cc.,- are not general
maxims, nor of any great use ;" 1 answer, that makes nothing to
the argument of universal assent, upon hearing and under-
standing- For if that be the certain mark of innate, whatever
proposition can be found that receives general assent as soon as
heard and understood, that must be admitted for an innate pro-
position, as well as this maxim, " that it is impossible for the
same thing to be, and not to be," they being, upon this ground,
equal. And as to the difference of being more general, that
makes this maxim more remote from being innate ; those general
and abstract ideas being more strangers to our first appre-
hensions, than those of more particular self-evident propo-
sitions ; and, therefore, it is longer before they are admitted and
assented to by the growing understanding. And as to the
usefulness of these magnified maxims, that perhaps will not be
found so great as is generally conceived, when it comes in its
due place to be more fully considered.

§. 21. These maxims nol being knoion sometimes until pro-
posed, proves them not innate. — But we have not yet done with
assenting to propositions at first hearing and understanding their
terms ; it is fit we first take notice, that this, instead of being a
mark that they are innate, is a proof of the contrary ; since it
supposes that several, who understand and know other things,
are ignorant of these principles, until they are proposed to them ;
and that one may be unacquainted with these truths, until he
hears them from others. For if they were innate, what need
they be proposed, in order to gaining assent ; when, by being
in the understanding, by a natural and original impression, (if
there were any such) they could not but be known before ? Or
doth the proposing them, print them clearer in the mind than
nature did ? If so, then the consequence will be, that a man
knows them better after he has been thus taught them, than he
did before. Whence it will follow, that these principles may be
made more evident to us by others teaching, than nature has
made them by impression ; which will ill agree with the opinion
of innate principles, and give but little authority to them ; but,
on the contrary, makes them unfit to be the foundations of all
our other knowledge, as they are pretended to be. This cannot
be denied, that men grow first acquainted with many of these
self-evident truths, upon their being proposed ; but it is clear,

c 2

20 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES Book 1.

that whosoever does so, finds in himself that he then begins to
know a proposition which he knew not before ; and which from
thenceforth he never questions ; not because it was innate, but
because the consideration of the nature of the things contained
in those words, would not suffer him to think otherwise, how,
or whensoever, he is brought to reflect on them. And if what-
ever is assented to at first hearing and understanding the terms,
must pass for an innate principle, every well-grounded obser-
vation, drawn from particulars into a general rule, must be
innate. When yet it is certain, that not all, but only sagacious
heads, light at first on these observations, and reduce them into
general propositions, not innate, but collected from a preceding-
acquaintance and reflection on particular instances. These,
when observing men have made them, unobserving men, when
they are proposed to them, cannot refuse their assent to.

§. 22. Imjdicithj known hefore proposing, signifies that the
mind is capable of understanding them, or else signifies nothing. —
If it be said, " the understanding hath an implicit knowledge of
these principles, but not an explicit, before this first hearing,"
(as they must, who will say, " that they are in the understanding
before they are known") it will be hard to conceive what is meant
by a principle imprinted on the understanding implicitly ; unless
it be this, that the mind is capable of understanding and
assenting firmly to such propositions. And thus all mathe-
matical demonstrations, as well as first principles, must be
received as native impressions on the mind ; which, I fear, they
will scarce allow them to be, who find it harder to demonstrate
a proposition, than assent to it when demonstrated. And few
mathematicians will be forward to believe that all the diagrams
they have drawn, were but copies of those innate characters
which nature had engraven upon their minds.

§. 23. The argument of assenting on first hearing, is upon a
false siqijjosition of no precedent teaching. — There is, I fear,
tjiis further weakness in the foregoing argument, which would
persuade us, that, therefore, those maxims are to be thought
innate, which men admit at first hearing, because they assent to
propositions which they are not taught, nor do receive from the
force of any argument or demonstration, but a bare explication
or understanding of the terms. Under which, there seems to
me to lie this fallacy ; that men are supposed not to be taught,
nor to learn any thing de novo ; when, fn truth, they are taught,
and do learn something they were ignorant of before. For, first,
it is evident they have learned the terms and their signification;
neither of which was born with them. But this is not all the
acquired knowledge in the case ; the ideas themselves, about

C/t. -2. IN THE MIND. 21

which the proposition is, are not born with them, no more than
their names, but got afterwards. So that in all propositions
that are assented to at first hearing, the terms ot the proposition,
their standing for such ideas, and the ideas themselves that
they stand for, being neither of them innate, I would fain know
what there is remaining in such propositions that is innate.
For I would gladly have any one name that proposition whose
terms or ideas were either of them innate. We, by degrees,
get ideas and names, and learn their appropriated connection
one with another ; and then to propositions made in such terms,
whose signification we have learnt, and wherein the agreement
or disagreement we can perceive in our ideas, when put together,
is expressed, we at first hearing assent ; though to other propo-
sitions, in themselves as certain and evident, but which are
concerning ideas not so soon or so easily got, we are at the
same time no way capable of assenting. For though a child
quickly assents to this proposition, that an " apple is not fire,"
when, by familiar acquaintance, he has got the ideas of those
two different things distinctly imprinted on his mind, and has
learnt that the names apple and fire stand for them, yet it will
be some years after, perhaps, before the same child will assent
to this proposition, " That it is impossible for the same thing
to be, and not to be," because that, though, perhaps, the words
are as easy to be learnt, yet the signification of them being
more large, comprehensive, and abstract, than of the names
annexed to those sensible things the child hath to do with, it is
longer before he learns their precise meaning, and it requires
more time plainly to form in his mind those general ideas they
stand for. Until that be done, you will in vain endeavour to
make any child assent to a proposition made up of such general
terms ; but as soon as ever he has got those ideas, and learned
their names, he forwardly closes with the one, as well as the
other, of the fore-mentioned propositions, and with both for the
same reason ; viz., because he finds the ideas he has in his
mind to agree or disagree, according as the words standing for
them are affirmed or denied one of another in the proposition.
But if propositions be brought to him in words, which stand for
ideas he has not yet in his mind, to such propositions, however
evidently true or false in themselves, he affords neither assent
nor dissent, but is ignorant. For words being but empty sounds,
any farther than they are signs of our ideas, we cannot but
assent to them as they correspond to those ideas we have, but
no farther than that. But the showing by what steps and
ways knowledge comes into our minds, and the grounds of
several degrees of assent, being the business of the following

c 3

2-2 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES Book I.

discourse, it may suffice to have only touched on it here, as one
reason that made me doubt of" those innate principles.

§. 24. Not innate, because not universally assented to. — To
conclude this argument of universal consent, I agree with these
defenders of innate principles, that if they are innate, they
must needs have universal assent. For that a truth should be
innate, and yet not assented to, is to me as unintelligible, as for
a man to know a truth, and be ignorant of it at the same time.
But then, by these men's own confession, they cannot be innate ;
since they are not assented to by those who understand not the
terms, nor by a great part of those who do understand them,
but have yet never heard nor thought of those propositions,
which, I think, is at least one half of mankind. But were the
number far less, it would be enough to destroy universal assent,
and thereby show these propositions not to be innate, if children
alone were ignorant of them.

^. 25. These maxims not the first known. — But that I may
not be accused to argue from the thoughts of infants, which are
unknown to us, and to conclude from what passes in their
vmderstandings before they express it, I say next, that these
two general propositions are not the truths that first possess the
minds of children, nor are antecedent to all acquired and
adventitious notions, which, if they were innate, they must
needs be. Whether we can determine it or no, it matters not,
there is certainly a time when children begin to think, and their
words and actions do assure us that they do so. When, there-
fore, they are capable of thought, of knowledge, of assent, can
it rationally be supposed they can be ignorant of those notions
that nature has imprinted, were there any such ? Can it be
imagined, with any appearance of reason, that they perceive the
impressions from things without, and be, at the same time,
ignorant of those characters which nature itself has taken care
to stamp within ? Can they receive and assent to adventitious
notions, and be ignorant of those which are supposed woven
into the very principles of their being, and imprinted there in
indelible characters, to be the foundation and guide of all
their acquired knowledge, and future reasonings ? This would
be to make nature take pains to no purpose ; or, at least, to
write very ill, since its characters could not be read by those
eyes which saw other things very well ; and those are very ill
supposed the clearest parts of truth, and the foundations of all
our knowledge, which are not first known, and without which,
the undoubted knowledge of several other things may be had.
The child certainly knows that the nurse that feeds it, is neither
the cat it plays with, nor the blackmoor it is afraid of; that the

Ch. 2. IN TfTi: MIND. 23

wormseed or mustaid it lel'uses, is not the apple or sugar it cries
for; this it is certainly and undoubtedly assured of; but will
any one say, it is by virtue of this principle, "that it is impossible
for the same thing to be, and not to be," that it so firmly assents
to these, and other parts of its knowledge '. Or that the child
has any notion or apprehension of that proposition at an age,
wherein yet it is plain it knows a great many other truths ?
He that will say, children join these general abstr<?ct speculations
with their sucking-bottles and their rattles, may, perhaps, with
justice, be thought to have more passion and zeal for his opinion,
but less sincerity and truth, than one of that age.

§. 26. And so not innate. — Though, therefore, there be
several general propositions that meet with constant and ready
assent, as soon as proposed to men grown up, who have attained
the use of more general and abstracted ideas, and names
standing for them ; yet they not being to be found in those of
tender years, who nevertheless know other things, they cannot
pretend to universal assent of intelligent persons, and so by no
means can be supposed innate ; it being impossible that any
truth which is innate (if there were any such) should be un-
known, at least to any one who knows any thing else. Since,
if they are innate truths, they must be innate thoughts ; there
being nothing a truth in the mind, that it has never thought on.
Whereby it is evident, if there be any innate truths in the mind,
they must necessarily be the first of any thought on ; the first
that appear there.

§. 27. Not innate, because they appear least, where what is
innate shoivs itself clearest, — That the general maxims we are
discoursing of, are not known to children, idiots, and a great
part of mankind, we have already sufficiently proved ; whereby
it is evident they have not an universal assent, nor are general
impressions. But there is this farther argument in it against their
being innate : that these characters, if they were native and
original impressions, should appear fairest and clearest in those
persons, in whom yet we find no footsteps of them : and it is,
in my opinion, a strong presumption that they are not innate,
since they are least known to those, in whom, if they were
innate, they must needs exert themselves with most force and
vigour. For children, idiots, savages, and illiterate people, being
of all others the least corrupted by custom, or borrowed opinions,
learning and education having not cast their native thoughts
into new moulds, nor by superinducing foreign and studied
doctrines, confounded those fair characters nature had written
there ; one might reasonably imagine, that in their minds, these
innate notions should lie open fairly to every one's view, as it is

c 4 '

24 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND. Book 1.

certain the thoughts of" children do. It might very well be
expected that these principles should be perfectly known to
naturals, which being stamped immediately on the soul, (as these
men suppose) can have no dependance on the constitution or
organs of the body, the only confessed difference between them
and others. One would think, according to these men's prin-
ciples, that all these native beams of light (were there any such)
should, in those who have no reserves, no arts of concealment,
shine out in their full lustre, and leave us in no more doubt of
their being there, than we are of their love of pleasure, and abhor-
rence of pain. But, alas ! amongst children, idiots, savages,
and the grossly illiterate, what general maxims are to be found ?
What universal principles of knowledge ? Their notions are
few and narrow, borrowed only from those objects they have
had most to do with, and which have made u^on their senses
the frequentest and strongest impressions. A child knows his
nurse and his cradle, and, by degrees, the playthings of a little
more advanced age ; and a young savage has, perhaps, his head
filled with love and hunting, according to the fashion of his
tribe. But he that from a child untaught, or a wild inhabitant
of the woods, will expect these abstract maxims and reputed
principles of sciences, will, I fear, find himself mistaken. Such
kind of general propositions are seldom mentioned in the huts
of Indians, much less are they to be found in the thoughts of
children, or any impressions of them on the minds of naturals.
They are the language and business of the schools and academies
of learned nations, accustomed to that sort of conversation, or
learning, where disputes are frequent ; these maxims being
suited to artificial argumentation, and useful for conviction ; but
not much conducing to the discovery of truth, or advancement
of knowledge. But of their small use for the improvement
of knowledge, I shall have occasion to speak more at large,
1. 4, c. 7. ^

§. 28. Recapitulation. — I know not how absurd this may
seem to the masters of demonstration ; and probably it will
hardly down with any body at first hearing. I must, therefore,
beg a little truce with prejudice, and the forbearance of censure,
until I have been heard out in the sequel of this discourse,
being very willing to submit to better judgments. And since I
impartially search after truth, I shall not be sorry to be con-
vinced that I have been too fond of my own notions, which, I
confess, we are all apt to be, when application and study have
warmed our heads with them.

Upon the whole matter, I cannot see any ground to think
these two speculative maxims innate, since they are not

Ch. 3. NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. 26

universally asselited to ; and the assent they so generally find, is
no other than what several propositions, not allowed to be
innate, equally partake in with them : and since the assent that
is given them is produced another way, and comes not from
natural inscription, as I doubt not but to make appear in the
following discourse. And if these first principles of knowledge
and science are found not to be innate, no other speculative
maxims can (I suppose) with better right pretend to be so.

CHAPTER III.

NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES.

§. 1. No inoral principles SO clear and SO generally received
as the forementioned speculative maxims. — If those speculative
maxims, whereof we discoursed in the foregoing chapter, have
not an actual universal assent from all mankind, as we there
proved, it is much more visible concerning practical principles,
that they come short of an universal reception : and I think it
will be hard to instance any one moral rule which can pretend
to so general and ready an assent as, "what is, is ;" or to be so
manifest a truth as this, " that it is impossible for the same thing
to be, and not to be." Whereby it is evident, that they are
farther removed from a title to be innate ; and the doubt of
their being native impressions on the mind, is stronger against
those moral principles than the other. Not that it brings their
truth at all in question ; they are equally true, though not
equally evident. Those speculative maxims carry their own
evidence with them ; but moral principles require reasoning and
discourse, and some exercise of the mind, to discover the
certainty of their truth. They lie not open as natural characters
engraven on the mind, which, if any such were, they must
needs be visible by themselves, and by their own light, be
certain and known to every body. But this is no derogation to
truth and certainty ; no more than it is to the truth or
certainty of the three angles of a triangle being equal to two
right ones, because it is not so evident as the whole is bigger
than a part ; nor so apt to be assented to at first hearing. It
may suffice, that these moral rules are capable of demonstration;
and, therefore, it is our own fault, if we come not to a certain
knowledge of them. But the ignorance wherein many men are
of them, and the slowness of assent wherewith others receive
them, are manifest proofs that they are not innate, and such as
offer themselves to their view without searching.

2G NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. Book\.

§. 2. Faith and justice not opened as principles hij all men. —
Whether there be any such moral principles, \vherei)i all men
agree, I appeal to any who have been but moderately conversant
in the history of mankind, and looked abroad beyond the smoke
of their own chimneys. Where is that practical truth that is
iuniversally received without doubt or question, as it must be, if
nnate ? Justice, and keeping of contracts, is that which most
men seem to agree in. This is a principle which is thought to
extend itself to the dens of thieves, and the confederacies of
the greatest villains ; and they who have gone farthest towards
the putting off of humanity itself, keep faith and rules of justice
one with another. I grant that outlaws themselves do this one
amongst another; but it is without receiving these as the innate
laws of nature. They practise them as rules of convenience
within their own communities ; but it is impossible to conceive
that he embraces justice as a practical principle, who acts fairly
with his fellow highwaymen, and at the same time plunders or
kills the next honest man he meets with. Justice and truth are
the common ties of society ; and, therefore, even outlaws and
robbers, who break with all the world besides, must keep faith
and rules of equity among themselves, or else they cannot hold
together. But will any one say, that those that live by fraud
or rapine, have innate principles of truth and justice which
they allow and assent to ?

§. 3. Ohjectian. Though men deny them in their practice, yet
they admit them in their thoughts, ansicered. — Perhaps it will be
urged, that the tacit assent of their minds agrees to what their
practice contradicts. I answer, ^rst, I have always thous^ht
the actions of men the best interpreters of their thoughts. But
since it is certain, that most men's practice, and some men's
open professions, have either questioned or denied these prin-
ciples, it is impossible to establish an imiversal consent, (thouo-h
we should look for it only amongst grown men) without which it is
impossible to conclude them innate. Secondly, it is very strange
and unreasonable to suppose innate practical principles, that
terminate only in contemplation. Practical principles derived
from nature, are there for operation, and must produce con-
formity of action, not barely speculative assent to their truth,
or else they are in vain distinguished from speculative maxims.
Nature, I confess, has put into man a desire of happiness, and
an aversion to misery : these, indeed, are innate practical prin-
ciples, which (as practical principles ought) do continue con-
stantly to operate and influence all our actions, without ceasing;
these may be observed in all persons, and all ages, steady and
universal ; but these are inclinations of the appetite to good,

Ch.'i. NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. 27

not impressions of truth on the understanding. I deny not,
that there are natural tendencies imprinted on ■ the minds of
men ; and that, from the very first instances of sense and per-
ception, there are some things that are grateful, and others
unwelcome to them ; some things that they incline to, and
others that they fly : but this makes nothing for innate charac-
ters on the mind, which are to be the principles of knowledge
regulating our practice. Such natural impressions on the
understanding are so far from being confirmed hereby, that this
is an aroument aoainst them : since, if there were certain
characters imprinted by nature on the understanding, as the
principles of knowledge, we could not but perceive them con-
stantly operate in us, and influence our knowledge, as we do
those others on the will and appetite ; which never cease to be
the constant springs and motives of all our actions, to which
we perpetually feel them strongly impelling us.

§. 4. Moral rules need a proof, ergo, not innate. — Another
reason that makes me doubt of any innate practical principles,
is, that I think there cannot any one moral rule be proposed,
whereof a man may not justly demand a reason, which would be
perfectly ridiculous and absurd, if they were innate, or so much
as self-evident; which every innate principle must needs be, and
not need any proof to ascertain its truth, nor want any reason to
gain it approbation. He would be thought void of common
sense, who asked on the one side, or on the other side went to oive
a reason, why " it is impossible for the same thing to be, and not
to be ?" It carries its own light and evidence with it, and needs
no other proof; he that understands the terms, assents to it for its
own sake, or else nothing will ever be able to prevail with him
to do it. But should that most unshaken rule of morality, and
foundation of all social virtue, " that one should do as he would be
done unto," be proposed to one who never heard it before, but
yet is of capacity to understand its meaning, might he not,
without any absurdity, ask a reason why ? And were not he
that proposed it bound to make out the truth and reasonableness
of it to him ? Which plainly shows it not to be innate ; for if
it were, it could neither want nor receive any proof; but must
needs (at least as soon as heard and understood) be received
and assented to, as an unquestionable truth, which a man can by
no means doubt of. So that the truth of all these moral rules
plainly depends upon some other antecedent to them, and from
which they must be deduced ; which could not be, if either they
were innate, or so much as self-evident.

^. 5. Instance in keeping compacts. — That men should keep
their compacts, is certainly a great and undeniable rule in mora-

28 NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. Book 1.

lity ; but yet, if a Christian, who has the view of happiness and
misery in another life, be asked why a man must keep iiis word?
he will give this as a reason : Because God, who has the power
of eternal life and death, requires it of us. But if an Hobbist
be asked why, he will answer, because the public requires it,
and the Leviathan will punish you if you do not. And if one
of the old philosophers had been asked, he would have an-
swered, because it was dishonest, below the dignity of a man,
and opposite to virtue, the highest perfection of human nature,
to do otherwise.

§. 6. Virtue generally approved, not because innate, but because
profitable. — Hence naturally flows the great variety of opinions
concerning moral rules, which are to be found among men,
according to the different sorts of happiness they have a pros-
pect of, or propose to themselves : which could not be if prac-
tical principles were innate, and imprinted in our minds imme-
diately by the hand of God. I grant the existence of God is
so many ways manifest, and the obedience we owe him so con-
gruous to the light of reason, that a great part of -mankind give
testimony to the law of nature ; but yet, I think, it must be al-
lowed, that several moral rules may receive from mankind a
very general approbation, without either knowing or admitting
the true ground of morality ; which can only be the will and
law of a God, who sees men in the dark, has in his hand re-
wards and punishments, and power enough to call to account
the proudest offender. For God, having, by an inseparable con-
nection, joined virtue and public happiness together ; and made
the practice thereof necessary to the preservation of society,
and visibly beneficial to all with whom the virtuous man has to
do, it is no wonder that every one should not only allow, but
recommend and magnify those rules to others, from whose ob-
servance of them he is sure to reap advantage to himself. He
may, out of interest, as well as conviction, cry up that for sacred,
which, if once trampled on, and prophaned, he himself cannot be
safe nor secure. This, though it takes nothing from the moral and
eternal obligation which these rules evidently have, yet it shows
that the outward acknowledgment men pay to them in their words,
proves not that they are innate principles ; nay, it proves not so
much as that men assent to them inwardly in their own minds, as
the inviolable rules of their own practice, since we find that
self-interest, and the conveniences of this life, make many men
own an outward profession and approbation of them, whose
actions sufficiently prove, that they very little consider the Law-
giver that prescribed these rules, nor the hell that he has or-
dained for the punishment of those that transgress them.

C/*. 3. NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. 29

§. 7. 3Ien*s actions convince us that the rule of virtue is not
their ijiternal principle. — For, if we will not in civility allow too
much sincerity to the professions of most men, but think their
actions to be the interpreters of their thoughts, we shall find
that they have no such internal veneration for these rules, nor
so full a persuasion of their certainty and obligation. The great
principle of morality, " To do as one would be done to," is more
commended than practised. But the breach of this rule cannot
be a greater vice, than to teach others, that it is no moral
rule, nor obligatory, would be thought madness, and contrary to
that interest men sacrifice to, when they break it themselves.
Perhaps conscience will be urged as checking us for such
breaches, and so the internal obligation and establishment of
the rule be preserved.

§. 8. Conscience no proof of any innate moral rule. — To which
I answer, that I doubt not, but without being written on their
hearts, many men may, by the same way that they come to the
knowledge of other things, come to assent to several moral
rules, and be convinced of their obligation. Others also may
come to be of the same mind, from their education, company,
and customs of their country ; which persuasion, however got,
will serve to set conscience on work, which is nothing else but
our own opinion or judgment of the moral rectitude or pravity
of our own actions. And if conscience be a proof of innate
principles, contraries may be innate principles ; since some men,
with the same bent of conscience, prosecute what others avoid.

§. 9. Instances of enormities practised without remorse. — But
r cannot see how any men should ever transgress those moral
rules, with confidence and serenity, were they innate, and stamped
upon their minds. View but an army at the sacking of a town,
and see what observation or sense of moral principles, or what
touch of conscience for all the outrages they do. Robberies,
murders, rapes, are the sports of men set at liberty from punish-
ment and censure. Have there not been whole nations, and
those of the most civilized people, amongst whom the exposing
their children, and leaving them in the fields, to perish by want,
or wild beasts, has been the practice, as little condemned or
scrupled, as the begetting them? Do they not still, in some
countries, put them into the same graves with their mothers, if
they die in child-birth ; or dispatch them, if a pretended astro-
loger declares them to have unhappy stars ? And are there not
places where, at a certain age, they kill, or expose their parents,
without any remorse at all ? In a part of Asia, the sick, when
their case comes to be thought desperate, are carried out, and
laid on the earth, before they are dead ; and left there, exposed

30 NO INNATE PRACTECAL PIITNCIPLES. Book\.

to wind and weather, to perish without assistance or pity*. It
is familiar among the Mingrelians, a people professing- Christi-
anity, to bury their children alive without scruplef. There are
places where they geld their children^. The Caribbees were
wont to geld their children, on purpose to fat and eat them§.
And Garcilasso de la Vega tells us of a people in Peru, which
were wont to fat and eat the children they got on their female
captives, whom they kept as concubines for that purpose ; and
when they were past breeding, the mothers themselves were
killed, too, and eaten |(. The virtues whereby the Tououpi-
nambos believed they merited Paradise, were revenge, and eating
abundance of their enemies. They have not so much as the
name for God ^, and have no religion, no worship. The saints
who are canonized amongst the Turks, lead lives which one
cannot with modesty relate. A remarkable passage to this
purpose, out of the voyage of Baumgarten, which is a book
not every day to be met with, I shall set down at large, in
the language it is published in. " Ibi (sc. prope Belbes in
Egypto) vidimus sanctum unum Saracenicum inter arenarum
cumulos, ita ut ex utero matris prodiit, nudum sedentem.
Mos est, ut didicimus, Mahometistis, ut eos, qui amentes et sine
ratione sunt, pro Sanctis colant et venerentur. Insuj^er et
eos, qui cum diu vitam egerint inquinatissimam, voluntariam
demum pcenitentiam et paupertatem, sanctitate venerandos de-
putant. Ejusmodi vero genus hominum libertatem quandam
effrajnem habent, domos quas volunt intrandi, edendi, bibendi,
et quod majus est, concumbendi ; ex quo concubitu si proles
secuta fuerit, sancta similiter habetur. His ergo hominibus,
dum vivunt, magnos exhibent honores ; mortuis vero vel templa
vel monumenta extruunt amplissima, eosque contingere ac sepe-
lire maximse fortunse ducunt loco. Audivimus hsec dicta et di-
cenda per interpretem a Mucrelo nostro. Insuper sanctum ilium,
quem eo loco vidimus, publicitus apprime commendari, eum esse
hominem sanctum, divinum ac integritate praecipuum ; eo quod,
nee fceminarum unquam esset, nee puerorum, sed tantummodo
assellarum concubitor atque mularum." Peregr. Baumgarten, 1. 2,
<5. 1, p. 73. More of the same kind, concerning these precious
saints among the Turks, may be seen in Pietro della Valle, in
his letter of the 25th of January, 1616. Where then are those
innate principles of justice, piety, gratitude, equity, chastity ?
Or, where is that universal consent, that assures us there are

* Gruber apud Thevenot, part 4, p. 13. t Lambert apud Thevenot, p. 38.

t Vossius de Nili Origine, c. 18, 19. § P. Mart. Dec. 1.

II Hist, des Iiicas, 1. 1, c. 12. if Lery, c. 16, 216,231.

CL-S. NO INNATE PRACTICAL PUlNCfPLES. 31

such inbred rules ? Murders in duels, when fashion has made
them honourable, are committed without remorse of conscience :
nay, in many places, innocence in this case is the greatest igno-
miny. And if we look abroad, to take a view of men, as they
are, we shall find that they remorse in one place, for doing or
omitting that which others, in another place, think they
merit by.

§. 10. M(^n have contr art/ practical principles. — He that will
carefully peruse the history of mankind, and look abroad into
the several tribes of men, and with indifferency survey their
actions, will be able to satisfy himself, that there is scarce that
principle of morality to be named, or rule of virtue to be thought
on, (those only excepted, that are absolutely necessary to hold
society together, which commonly, too, are neglected betwixt
distinct societies) which is not, somewhere or other, slighted
and condeHiued by the general fashion of whole societies of
men, governed by practical opinions, and rules of living, quite
opposite to others.

§. 11. Whole nations reject several moral rules. — Here, per-
haps, it will be objected, that it is no argument, that the rule is
not known, because it is broken. I grant the objection good,
where men, though they transgress, yet disown not the law ;
where fear of shame, censure, or punishment, carries the mark
of some awe it has upon them. But it is impossible to con-
ceive, that a whole nation of men should all publicly reject and
renounce, what every one of them, certainly and infallibly, knew
to be a law ; for so they must, who have it naturally imprinted
on their minds. It is possible men may sometimes own rules
of morality, which, in their private thoughts, they do not believe
to be true, only to keep themselves in reputation and esteem
amongst those who are persuaded of their obligation. But it is
not to be imagined, that a whole society of men should publicly
and professedly disown, and cast off a rule, which they could
not, in their own minds, but be infallibly certain was a law ; nor
be ignorant that all men they should have to do with, knew it to
be such ; and, therefore, must every one of them apprehend from
others all the contempt and abhorrence due to one who pro-
fesses himself void of humanity; and one, who confounding the
known and natural measures of right and wrong, cannot but be
looked on as the professed enemy of their peace and happiness.
Whatever practical principle is innate, cannot but be known to
every one to be just and good. It is, therefore, little less than a
contradiction, to suppose, that whole nations of men should, both
in their professions and practice, unanimously and universally
give the lie to what, by the most invincible evidence, every one

32 NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. Book 1.

of them knew to be true, right, and good. This is enough to
satisfy us, that no practical rule, which is any where universally,
and with public approbation, or allowance, transgressed, can be
supposed innate. But I have something farther to add, in an-
swer to this objection.

§. 12. The breaking of a rule, say you, is no argument that
it is unknown. I grant it : but the generally allowed breach of
it any where, I say, is a proof that it is not innate. For example,
let us take any of these rules, which being the most obvious de-
ductions of human reason, and conformable to the natural incli-
nation of the greatest part of men, fewest people have had the
impudence to deny, or inconsideration to doubt of. If any can
be thought to be naturally imprinted, none, I think, can have a
fairer pretence to be innate, than this ; " parents, preserve and
cherish your children." When, therefore, you say, that this is an
innate rule, what do you mean ? either, thatit is an innate principle,
which, upon all occasions, excites and directs the actions of all
men ; or else, that it is a truth which all men have imprinted on
their minds, and which, therefore, they know and assent to. But
in neither of these senses is it innate. First, That it is not a
principle which influences all men's actions, is what I have proved
by the examples before cited : nor need we seek so far as
Mingrelia or Peru, to find instances of such as neglect, abuse,
nay, and destroy their children ; or look on it only as the more
than brutality of some savage and barbarous nations, when we
remember that it was a familiar and uncondemned practice
among the Greeks and Romans, to expose, without pity or re-
morse, their innocent infants. Secondly, That it is an innate
truth, known to all men, is also false. For, " parents, preserve
your children," is so far from an innate truth, that it is no truth
at all ; it being a command, and not a proposition, and so not
capable of truth or falsehood. To make it capable of being as-
sented to as true, it must be reduced to some such proposition
as this : " it is the duty of parents to preserve their children." But
what duty is, cannot be understood without a law ; nor a law be
known, or supposed, without a law-maker, or without reward and
punishment : so that it is impossible that this, or any other
practical principle, should be innate ; i. e. be imprinted on the
mind as a duty, without supposing the ideas of God, of law,
of obligation, of punishment, of a life after this, innate. For
that punishment follows not, in this life, the breach of this rule ;
and, consequently, that it has not the force of a law in countries
where the general allowed practice runs counter to it, is in it-
self evident. But these ideas (which must be all of them innate,
if any thing as a duty be so) are so far from being innate, that it

CA. 3. NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. 33

is not every studious or thinking man, much less every one that
is born, in whom they are to be found clear and distinct ; and
that one of them, which, of all others, seems most likely to be
innate, is not so, (I mean the idea of God) I think, in the next
chapter, will appear very evident to any considering man.

§. 13. From what has been said, I think we may safely con-
clude, that whatever practical rule is, in any place, generally,
and with allowance, broken, cannot be supposed innate, it being
impossible that men should, without shame or fear, confidently
and serenely break a rule, which they could not but evidently
know that God had set up, and would certainly punish the
breach (of which they must, if it were innate,) to a degree, to
make it a very ill bargain to the transgressor. Without such a
knowledge as this, a man can never be certain that any thing is
his duty. Ignorance, or doubt of the law, hopes to escape the
knowledge or power of the law-maker, or the like, may make
men give way to a present appetite : but let any one see the fault,
and the rod by it, and with the transgression, a fire ready to
punish it ; a pleasure tempting, and the hand of the Almighty
visibly held up, and prepared to take vengeance (for this must
be the case, where any duty is imprinted on the mind), and then
tell me, whether it be possible for people, with such a prospect,
such a certain knowledge as this, wantonly, and without scruple,
to offend against a law, which they carry about them in indelible
characters, and that stares them in the face whilst they are
breaking it? Whether men, at the same time that they feel in
themselves the imprinted edicts of an Omnipotent Law-maker,
can, with assurance and gaiety, slight and trample Under foot his
most sacred injunctions ? and, lastly, whether it be possible, that
whilst a man thus openly bids defiance to this innate law, and
supreme Law-giver, all the by-standers, yea, even the governors
and rulers of the people, full of the same sense, both of the law
and Law-maker, should silently connive, without testifying their
dislike, or laying the least blame on it? Principles of actions,
indeed, there are lodged in men's appetites, but these are so far
from being innate moral principles, that if they were left to their
full swing, they would carry men to the overturning of all mo-
rality. Moral laws are set as a curb and restraint to these ex-
orbitant desires, which they cannot be but by rewards and pu-
nishments, that will over-balance the satisfaction any one shall
propose to himself in the breach of the law. If, therefore, any
thing be imprinted on the mind of all men as a law, all men
must have a certain and unavoidable knowledge, that certain and
unavoidable punishment will attend the breach of it. For if
men can be ignorant or doubtful of what is innate, innate priu-

D

34 NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. Book 1.

ciples are insisted on, and urged to no purpose ; truth and
certainty (the things pretended) are not at all secured by them ;
but men are in the same uncertain, floating estate with, as with-
out them. An evident indubitable knowledge of unavoidable
punishment, great enough to make the transgression very un-
eligible, must accompany an innate law ; unless, with an innate
law, they can suppose an innate Gospel too. I would not be here
mistaken, as if, because I deny an innate law, I thought there
were none but positive laws. There is a great deal of difference
between an innate law, and a law of nature ; between something
imprinted on our minds in their very original, and something that
we being ignorant of, may attain to the knowledge of, by the
use and due application of our natural faculties. And, I think,
they equally forsake the truth, who, running into contrary
extremes, either affirm an innate law, or deny that there is a law
knowable by the light of nature, i. e. without the help of posi-
tive revelation.

§. 14. Those who maintain innate practical principles, tell us
not what they are. — The difference there is amongst men in their
practical principles, is so evident, that, I think, I need say no
more to evince that it will be impossible to find any innate
moral rules, by this mark of general assent ; and it is enough to
make one suspect that the supposition of such innate principles
is but an opinion taken up at pleasure ; since those who talk so
confidently of them, are so sparing to tell us which they are.
This might with justice be expected from those men who lay
stress upon this opinion ; and it gives occasion to distrust either
their knowledge or charity, who declaring that God has im-
printed on the minds of men, the foundations of knowledge, and
the rules of living, are yet so little favourable to the information of
their neighbours, or the quiet of mankind, as not to point out to
them which they are, in the variety men are distracted with.
But, in truth, were there any such innate principles, there would
be no need to teach them. Did men find such innate proposi-
tions stamped on their minds, they would easily be able to dis-
tinguish them from other truths, that they afterwards learned,
and deduced from them ; and there would be nothing more
easy than to know what, and how many, they were. There could
be no more doubt about their number, than there is about the
number of our fingers ; and it is like then every system would
be ready to give them us by tale. But since nobody, that I
know, has ventured yet to give a catalogue of them, they cannot
blame those who doubt of these innate principles; since even they
who require men to believe that there are such innate proposi-
tions, do not tell us what they are. It is easy to foresee, that if

Ch. 3. NO INNATE PllACTICAL PRINCIPLES. 35

different men of different sects should go about to give us a list
of those innate, practical principles, they would set down only
such as suited their distinct hypothesis, and were fit to support
the doctrines of their particular schools or churches ; a plain
evidence that there are no such innate truths. Nay, a great
part of men are so far from finding any such innate moral prin-
ciples in themselves, that, by denying freedom to mankind, and
thereby making men no other than bare machines, they take
away not only innate, but all moral rules whatsoever, and leave
not a possibility to believe any such, to those who cannot
conceive how any thing can be capable of a law, that is not
a free agent; and upon that ground, they must necessarily
reject all principles of virtue, who cannot put morality and me-
chanism together, which are not very easy to be reconciled, or
made consistent.

§. 15. Lord Herbert's innate principles examined. — When I
had writ this, being informed that my Lord Herbert had, in his
book de Veritate, assigned these innate principles, I presently
consulted him, hoping to find, in a man of so great parts, some-
thing that might satisfy me in this point, and put an end to my
enquiry. In his chapter de Instinctu Naturali, p. 72, edit. 1656,
I met with these six marks of his Notiiice Communes: " 1. Prio-
ritas. 2. Independentia. 3. Universalitas. 4, Certitudo. 5.
Necessitas, i. e. as he explains it, faciunt ad hominis conser-
vationem. 6. Modus conformationis, i. e. Assensus nulla inter-
posita mora." And at the latter end of his little treatise, De
Religioni Laid, he says this of these innate principles : " Adeo
ut non uniuscujusvis religionis confinio arctentur quee ubique
vigent veritates. Sunt enim in ipsa mente coelitus descriptoe,
nullisque traditionibus, sive scriptis, sive non scriptis, obnoxia,
p. 3; and, Veritates nostras Catholicae, quse tanquam indubia
Dei effata in foro interior! descriptse." Thus having given the
marks of the innate principles, or common notions, and asserted
their being imprinted on the minds of men by the hand of God,
he proceeds to set them down, and they are these : " 1. Esse ali-
quod supremum numen. 2. Numen illud coli debere. 3. Vir-
tutem cum pietate conjunctam optimam esse rationem cultiis
divini. 4. Resipiscendum esse a peccatis. 5. Dari praemium
vel pcenam post banc vitam transactam." Though I allow these
to be clear truths, and such as, if rightly explained, a rational
creature can hardly avoid giving his assent to ; yet I think he is
far from proving them innate impressions " in foro interior! de-
scriptae." For I must take leave to observe,

§. 16. J'ir5f,That these five propositions are either not all, or
more than all, those common notions writ on our minds bv the

D 2

36 NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. Bookl.

finger of God, if it were reasonable to believe any at all to be
so written. Since there are other propositions, which, even by
his own rules, have as just a pretence to such an original, and
may be as well admitted for innate principles, as, at least, some
of these five he enumerates, viz. " Do as thou wouldst be done
unto ;" and, perhaps, some hundreds of others, when well con-
sidered.

§. 17. Secondly, That all his marks are not to be found in
each of his five propositions, viz. his first, second, and third
marks, agree perfectly to neither of them ; and the first, second,
third, fourth, and sixth marks, agree but ill to his third, fourth,
and fifth propositions. For, besides that, we are assured from
history, of many men, nay, whole nations, >who doubt or dis-
believe some or all of them ; I cannot see how the third, viz.
" That virtue joined with piety, is the best worship of God," can
be an innate principle, when the name, or sound, virtue, is so
hard to be understood ; liable to so much uncertainty in its
signification ; and the thing it stands for, so much contended
about, and diflScult to be known. And, therefore, this can be but
a very uncertain rule of human practice, and serve but very
little to the conduct of our lives, and is, therefore, very unfit to
be assigned as an innate practical principle.

§. 18. For let us consider this proposition as to its meaning,
(for it is the sense, and not sound, that is, and must be, the
principle or common notion) viz. " Virtue is the best worship of
God •" i. e. is most acceptable to him ; which, if virtue be taken,
as most commonly it is, for those actions, which, according to
the different opinions of several countries, are accounted laud-
able, will be a proposition so far from being certain, that it will
not be true. If virtue be taken for actions conformable to God's
will, or to the rule prescribed by God, which is the true and
only measure of virtue, when virtue is used to signify what is
in its nature right and good, then this proposition, " That
virtue is the best worship of God," will be most true and certain,
but of very little use in human life, since it will amount to no
more but this, viz. "That God is pleased with the doing of what
he commands ;" which a man may certainly know to be true,
wilhoutknowing what it is that God doth command ; and so be as
far from any rule or principle of his actions, as he was before ;
and, I think, very few will take a proposition which amounts to
no more than this, viz. That God is pleased with the doing of
what he himself commands, for an innate moral principle writ
on the minds of all men, (however true and certain it may be)
since it teaches so little. Whosoever does so, will have reason
to think hundreds of propositions innate principles, since there

Ch. 3. NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. a7

are many, which have as good a title as this, to be received for
such, which nobody yet ever put into that rank of innate prin-
ciples.

§. 19. Nor is the fourth proposition (viz. " Men must repent
of their sins,") much more instructive, till what those actions are,
that are meant by sins, be set down. For the word peccata, or
sins, being put, as it usually is, to signify, in general, ill actions,
that will draw punishment upon the doers, what great prin-
ciple of morality can that be, to tell us we should be sorry, and
cease to do that which will bring mischief upon us, without
knowing what those particular actions are, that will do so ? in-
deed, this is a very true proposition, and fit to be inculcated on,
and received by those, who are supposed to have been taught,
what actions, in all kinds, are sins ; but neither this, nor the
former, can be imagined to be innate principles, nor to be of any
use, if they were innate, unless the particular measures and
bounds of all virtues and vices, were engraven in men's minds,
and were innate principles also, which, I think, is very much to
be doubted. And, therefore, I imagine, it will scarcely seem pos-
sible, that God should engrave principles in men's minds, in
words of uncertain signification, such as virtues and sins, which,
amongst different men, stand for different things ; nay, it can-
not be supposed to be in words at all, which, being in most of
these principles very general names, cannot be understood, but
by knowing the particulars comprehended under them. And
in the practical instances, the measures must be taken from the
knowledge of the actions themselves, and the rules of them
abstracted from words, and antecedent to the knowledge of
names ; which rules a man must know, what language soever he
chance to learn whether English or Japan ; or if he should learn
no language at all, or never should understand the use of words,
as happens in the case of dumb and deaf men. When it shall
be made out, that men, ignorant of words, or untaught by the
laws and customs of their country, know that it is part of the
worship of God, not to kill another man ; not to know more
women than one ; not to procure abortion ; not to expose their
children ; not to take from another what is his, though we want
it ourselves, but, on the contrary, relieve and supply his wants ;
and whenever we have done the contrary, we ought to repent,
be sorry, and resolve to do so no more ; when, I say, all men
shall be proved actually to know and allow all these and a thou-
sand other such rules, all which come under these two general
words made use of above, viz. "virtutes et peccata," virtues and
sins, there will be more reason for admitting these and the like,
for common notions, and practical principles ; yet, after all, uni-

D 3

38 NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. Book 1.

versal consent (were there any in moral principles) to truths,
the knowledge whereof may be attained otherwise, would scarce
prove them to be innate ; which is all I contend for.

§. 20. Object. Innate principles may he corrupted, an-
sivered. — Nor will it be of much moment here, to offer that very
ready, but not very material answer, (viz.) That the innate prin-
ciples of morality, may, by education and custom, and the
general opinion of those amongst whom we converse, be dark-
ened, and, at last, quite worn out of the minds of men. Which
assertion of theirs, if true, quite takes away the argument of
universal consent, by which this opinion of innate principles is
endeavoured to be proved ; unless those men will think it reason-
able, that their private persuasions, or that of their party, should
pass for universal consent ; a thing not unfrequently done, when
men, presuming themselves to be the only masters of right reason,
cast by the votes and opinions of the rest of mankind, as not
worthy the reckoning. And then their argument stands thus :
" the principles which all mankind allow for true, are innate ;
those that men of right reason admit, are the principles allowed
by all mankind ; we, and those of our mind, are men of reason ;
therefore, we agreeing, our principles are innate ;" which is a very
pretty way of arguing, and a short cut to infallibility. For
otherwise it will be very hard to understand, how there be some
principles, which all men do acknowledge and agree in ; and yet
there are none of those principles, which are not by deprave(J
custom, and ill education, blotted out of the minds of many
men ; which is to say, that all men admit, but yet many men
do deny, and dissent from them. And, indeed, the supposition
of such first principles will serve us to very little purpose ; and
we shall be as much at a loss with, as without them, if they may,
by any human power, such as is the will of our teachers, or
opinions of our companions, be altered or lost in us ; and not-
withstanding all this boast of first principles, and innate light,
we shall be as much in the dark and uncertainty, as if there
were no such thing at all ; it being all one, to have no rule, and
one that will warp any way ; or amongst various and contrary
rules, not to know which is the right. But concerning innate
principles, I desire these men to say, whether they can, or can-
not, by education and custom, be blurred and blotted out ; if
they cannot, we must find them in all mankind alike, and they
must be clear in every body ; and if they may suffer variation
from adventitious notions, we must then find them clearest and
most perspicuous nearest the fountain, in children and illiterate
people, who have received least impression from foreign opinions.
Let them take which side they please, they will certainly find

C%. 3. NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. 39

it inconsistent with visible matter of fact, and daily obser-
vation.

§. 21. Contrary principles in the world. — I easily grant, that
there are great numbers of opinions, which, by men of different
countries, educations, and tempers, are received and embraced
as first and unquestionable principles ; many whereof, both for
their absurdity, as well as oppositions to one another, it is im-
possible should be true. But yet all those propositions, how
remote soever from reason, are so sacred somewhere or other,
that men, even of good understanding in other matters, will
sooner part with their lives, and whatever is dearest to them,
than suffer themselves to doubt, or others to question, the truth
of them.

§. 22. How men commonly come by their principles. — This,
however strange it may seem, is that which every day's expe-
rience confirms ; and will not, perhaps, appear so wonderful, if
we consider the ways and steps by which it is brought about ;
and how really it may come to pass, that doctrines, that have
been derived from no better original than the superstition of a
nurse, and the authority of an old woman, may, by length of time,
and consent of neighbours, grow up to the dignity of principles
in religion or morality. For such who are careful (as they call it)
to principle children well, (and few there be who have not a set
of those principles for them, which they believe in) instil into
the unwary, and, as yet, unprejudiced understanding, (for white
paper receives any characters) those doctrines they would have
them retain and profess. These being taught them as soon as
they have any apprehension ; and still as they grow up, confirmed
to them, either by the open profession, or tacit consent, of all
they have to do with, or, at least, by those of whose wisdom,
knowledge, and piety, they have an opinion, who never suffer
those propositions to be otherwise mentioned, but as the basis
and foundation on which they build their religion and manners ;
come, by these means, to have the reputation of unquestionable,
self-evident, and innate truths.

§. 23. To which we may add, that when men, so instructed,
are grown up, and reflect on their own minds, they cannot find
any thing more ancient there, than those opinions which were
taught them before their memory began to keep a register of
their actions, or date the time when any new thing appeared to
them ; and, therefore, make no scruple to conclude, that those
propositions, of whose knowledge they can find in themselves
no original, were certainly the impress of God and nature upon
their minds ; and not taught them by any one else. These they
entertain and submit to, as many do to their parents, with vene-

D 4

40 NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. Book 1.

ration ; not because it is natural, nor do children do it where
they are not so taught, but because having been always so edu-
cated, and having no remembrance of the beginning of this
respect, they think it is natural.

§. 24. This will appear very likely, and almost unavoidable
to come to pass, if we consider the nature of mankind, and the
constitution of human affairs, wherein most men cannot live,
without employing their time in the daily labours of their call-
ing ; nor be at quiet in their minds, without some foundation or
principle to rest their thoughts on. There is scarce any one so
floating and superficial in his understanding, who hath not some
reverenced propositions, which are to him the principles on which
he bottoms his reasonings, and by which he judgeth of truth
and falsehood, right and wrong ; which some, wanting skill and
leisure, and others the inclination, and some being taught that
they ought not to examine, there are few to be found, who are
not exposed by their ignorance, laziness, education, or precipi-
tancy, to take them upon trust.

§. 25. This is evidently the case of all children and young
folk ; and custom, a greater power than nature, seldom tailing
to make them worship for divine, what she hath inured them to
bow their minds, and submit their understandings to, it is no
wonder that grown men, either perplexed in the necessary affairs
of life, or hot in the pursuit of pleasures, should not seriously
sit down to examine their own tenets, especially when one of
their principles is, that principles ought not to be questioned.
And had men leisure, parts, and will, who is there almost that
dare shake the foundations of all his past thoughts and actions,
and endure to bring upon himself the shame of having been a
long time wholly in mistake and error ? Who is there hardy
enough to contend with the reproach which is every where pre-
pared for those who dare venture to dissent from the received
opinions of their country or party ? And where is the man to be
found, that can patiently prepare himself to bear the name of
whimsical, sceptical, or atheist, which he is sure to meet with,
who does in the least scruple any of the common opinions ?
And he will be much more afraid to question those principles,
when he shall think them, as most men do, the standards set up
by God in his mind, to be the rule and touchstone of all other
opinions. And what can hinder him from thinking them sacred,
when he finds them the earliest of all his own thoughts, and the
most reverenced by others ?

§. 26. It is easy to imagine how, by these means, it comes to
pass, that men worship the idols that have been set up in their
minds, grow fond of the notions they have been long acquainted

Ch, 3. NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. 41

with there, and stamp the characters of divinity upon absur-
dities and errors; become zealous votaries to bulls and monkeys ;
and contend, too, fight, and die, in defence of their opinions :
" Dum solos credit habendos esse deos, quos ipse colit." For since
the reasoning faculties of the soul, which are almost constantly,
though not always warily nor wisely employed, would not know
how to move, for want of a foundation and footing, in most men,
who through laziness or avocation, do not, or for want of time,
or true helps, or for other causes, cannot, penetrate into the prin-
ciples of knowledge, and trace truth to its fountain and original,
it is natural for them, and almost unavoidable, to take up with
some borrowed principles ; which being reputed and presumed
to be the evident proofs of other things, are thought not to need
any other proof themselves. Whoever shall receive any of these
into his mind, and entertain them there, with the reverence usually
paid to principles, never venturing to examine them, but accus-
toming himself to believe them, because they are to be believed,
may take up from his education, and the fashions of his country,
any absurdity for innate principles ; and by long poring on the
same objects, so dim his sight, as to take monsters lodged in
his own brain, for the images of the Deity, and the workmanship
of his hands.

§. 27. Principles must he examined. — By this progress, how
many there are who arrive at principles, which they believe in-
nate, may be easily observed, in the variety of opposite princi-
ples held and contended for by all sorts and degrees of men.
And he that shall deny this to be the method, wherein most men
proceed to the assurance they have of the truth and evidence of
their principles, will, perhaps, find it a hard matter, any other
way to account for the contrary tenets, which are firmly believed,
confidently asserted, and with great numbers, are ready, at any
time, to seal with their blood. And, indeed, if it be the privi-
lege of innate principles to be received upon their own autho-
rity, without examination, I know not what may not be believed,
or how any one's principles can be questioned. If they may,
and ought to be examined, and tried, I desire to know how first
and innate principles can be tried ; or, at least, it is reasonable
to demand the marks and characters whereby the genuine innate
principles may be distinguished from others ; that so, amidst the
great variety of pretenders, I may be kept from mistakes, in so
material a point as this. When this is done, I shall be ready to
embrace such welcome and useful propositions ; and till then, I
may with modesty doubt, since, I fear, universal consent, which
is the only one produced, will scarce prove a suflScient mark to
direct my choice, and assure me of any innate principles. From

42 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. Book 1.

what has been said, I think it past doubt, that there are no
practical principles wherein all men agree ; and, therefore, none
innate.

CHAPTER IV.

OTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING INNATE PRINCIPLES,
BOTH SPECULATIVE AND PRACTICAL.

§. 1. Principles not innate, unless their ideas be innate. —
Had those, who would persuade us that there are innate principles,
not taken them together in gross, but considered separately the
parts out of which those propositions are made, they would not,
perhaps, have been so forward to believe they were innate.
Since, if the ideas which made up those truths, were not, it was
impossible that the propositions made up of them should be in-
nate, or the knowledge of them born with us. For if the ideas
be not innate, there was a time when the mind was without those
principles, and then they will not be innate, but be derived from
some other original. For where the ideas themselves are not,
there can be no knowledge, no assent, no mental or verbal pro-
positions about them.

§. 2. Ideas, especially those belonging to principles, not born
with children. — If we will attentively consider new born children,
we shall have little reason to think that they bring many ideas
into the world with them. For bating, perhaps, some faint ideas
of hunger, and thirst, and warmth, and some pains which they
may have felt in the womb, there is not the least appearance of
any settled ideas at all in them ; especially of ideas answering
the terms which make up those universal propositions, that are
esteemed innate principles. One may perceive how, by degrees,
afterwards, ideas come into their minds ; and that they get no
more, nor no other, than what experience, and the observation of
things that come in their way, furnish them with, which might
be enough to satisfy us that they are not original characters
stamped on the mind.

§. 3. " It is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be,"
is certainly (if there be any such) an innate principle. But can
any one think, or will any one say, that impossibility and iden-
tity are two innate ideas ? Are they such as all mankind have,
and bring into the world with them ? And are they those which
are the first in children, and antecedent to all acquired ones ?
If they are innate, they must needs be so. Hath a child an idea
of impossibility and identity, before it has of white or black,
sweet or bitter ? And is it from the knowledge of this principle.

Ch,4. NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. 43

that it concludes, that wormwood rubbed on the nipple, hath not
the same taste that it used to receive from thence ? Is it the
actual knowledge of " impossibile est idem esse, etnon esse," that
makes a child distinguish between its mother and a stranger ?
or, that makes it fond of the one, and fly the other ? Or does
the mind regulate itself, and its assent, by ideas that it never yet
had ? Or the understanding draw conclusions from principles
which it never yet knew or understood ? The names impossibi-
lity and identity stand for two ideas, so far from being innate, or
born with us, that I think it requires great care and attention to
form them right in our understanding. They are so far from
being: brought into the world with us, so remote from the
thoughts of infancy and childhood, that I believe, upon exami-
nation, it will be found that many grown men want them.

§. 4. IdentiUj, an idea not innate. — If identity (to instance
in that alone) be a native impression, and consequently so clear
and obvious to us, that we must needs know it even from our
cradles, I wculd gladly be resolved by one of seven, or seventy
years old, whether a man, being a creature, consisting of soul
and body, be the same man when his body is changed ? Whether
Euphorbus and Pythagoras, having had the same soul, were the
same men, though they lived several ages asunder? Nay,
whether the cock too, which had the same soul, were not the
same with both of them? Whereby, perhaps, it will appear,
that our idea of sameness is not so settled and clear as to de-
serve to be thought innate in us. For if those innate ideas are not
clear and distinct, so as to be universally known, and naturally
agreed on, they cannot be subjects of universal and undoubted
truths ; but will be the unavoidable occasion of perpetual uncer-
tainty. For, I suppose, every one's idea of identity will not be
the same that Pythagoras and others of his followers have : and
which then shall be true ? Which innate ? Or are there two
different ideas of identity, both innate ?

§. 5. Nor let any one think that the questions I have here
proposed about the identity of man, are bare empty specu-
lations ; which if they were, would be enough to show that
there was in the understandings of men no innate idea of iden-
tity. He that shall, with a little attention, reflect on the resur-
rection, and consider that divine justice will bring to judgment,
at the last day, the very same persons to be happy or miserable
in the other, who did well or ill in this life, will find it, perhaps,
not easy to resolve with himself, what makes the same man, or
wherein identity consists ; and will not be forward to think he,
and every one, even children themselves, have naturally a clear
idea of it.

44 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. Bookl.

§. 6. Whole and part, not innate ideas. — Let us examine
that principle of mathematics, viz. " that a whole is bigger than
a part." This, I take it, is reckoned amongst innate principles.
I am sure it has as good a title as any to be thought so; which,
yet, nobody can think it to be, when he considers the ideas it
comprehends in it, " whole and part," are perfectly relative ; but
the positive ideas to which they properly and immediately belong,
are extension and number, of which alone, whole and part are
relations. So that if whole and part are innate ideas, extension
and number must be so too, it being impossible to have an idea
of a relation, without having any at all of the thing to which it
belongs, and in which it is founded. Now, whether the minds
of men have naturally imprinted on them the ideas of extension
and number, I leave to be considered by those who are the
patrons of innate principles.

§. 7. Ideas of worship not innate. — " That God is to be wor-
shipped," is, without doubt, as great a truth as any can enter into
the mind of man, and deserves the first place amongst all prac-
tical principles. But yet it can by no means be thought in-
nate, unless the ideas of God and worship are innate. That the
idea the term worship stands for, is not in the understanding of
children, and a character stamped on the mind in its first ori-
ginal, I think, will be easily granted by any one that considers
how few there be amongst grown men, who have a clear and dis-
tinct notion of it. And, I suppose, there cannot be any thing
more ridiculous, than to say, that children have this practical
principle innate, that God is to be worshipped ; and yet, that
they know not what that worship of God is, which is their duty.
But to pass by this :

§. 8. Idea of God not innate. — If any idea can be imagined
innate, the idea of God may, of all others, for many reasons, be
thought so ; since it is hard to conceive how there should be
innate moral principles, without an-innate idea of a Deity : with-
out a notion of a law-maker, it is impossible to have a notion of
a law, and an obligation to observe it. Besides the Atheists,
taken notice of amongst the ancients, and left branded upon the
records of history, hath not navigation discovered, in these
later ages, whole nations at the Bay of Soldania*, in Brazilf ,
Boranday:}:,and in the Caribbee Islands, &c. amongst whom there
was to be found no notion of a God, no religion. Nicholaus del
Techo in literis, ex Paraquaria de Caaiguarum conversione, has

Roe apud Thevenot, p. 2. t Jo. de Lery, c. 16.

Ch. 4. NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. 45

these words* : " Reperi earn gentem nullum nomen habere, quod
Deum et hominis animam significet, nulla sacra habet, nulla
idola." These are instances of nations where uncultivated nature
has been left to itself, without the help of letters and discipline,
and the improvements of arts and sciences. But there are
others to be found, who have enjoyed these in a very great mea-
sure, who yet, for want of a due application of their thoughts
this way, w^ant the idea and knowledge of God. It will, I doubt
not, be a surprise to others, as it was to me, to find the Siamites
of this number. But for this, let them consult the King of
France's late envoy thitherf, who gives no better account of the
Chinese themselverj. And if we will not believe La Loubere,
the missionaries of China, even the Jesuits themselves, the great
encomiasts of the Chinese, do all, to a man, agree, and will con-
vince us, that the sect of the literati, or learned, keeping to the
old religion of China, and the ruling party there, are all of them
Atheists. [Vid. Navarette, in the collection of voyages, vol I.
and Historia cultus Sinensium.] And, perhaps, if we should,
with attention, mind the lives and discourses of people not so
far off, we should have too much reason to fear, that many, in
more civilized countries, have no very strong and clear impres-
sions of a Deity upon their minds ; and that the complaints of
Atheism, made from the pulpit, are not without reason. And
though only some profligate wretches own it too bare-facedly
now ; yet, perhaps, we should hear more than we do of it from
others, did not the fear of the magistrate's sword, or their neigh-
bour's censure, tie up peoples' tongues ; which, were the appre-
hensions of punishment or shame taken away, would as openly
proclaim their Atheism, as their lives do§.

• Relatio triplex de rebus Indicis Caaiguarura 1~,

t La Loubere du Royaume de Siam. t. 1, c. 9. §. 15, & c. 20, $. 22, & c. 22, $. 6.

X lb. torn. 1, c. 20, $. 4, & c. 23.

§ On this reasoning of the author against innate ideas, great blame hath been laid,
because it seems to invalidate an argument commonly used to prove the being of a God,
viz, universal consent. To which our author answers (a) : " I think that the universal
consent of mankind as to the being of a God, amounts to thus much, that tlie vastly
greater majority of mankiud have, in all ages of the world, actually believed a God ;
that the majority of the remaining part have not actually disbelieved it ; and, conse-
quently, those who have actually opposed the belief of a God, have truly been very few.
So that comparing those that have actually disbelieved, with those who have actually be-
lieved a God, their number is so inconsiderable, that in respect of tliis incomparably
greater majority of those who have owned the belief of a God, it may be said to be the
universal consent of mankind.

" This is all the universal consent which truth or matter of fact will allow ; and, there-
fore, all that can be made use of to prove a God. But if any one would extend it far-
tJier, and speak deceitfully for God ; if this universality should be urged in a strict sense,
not for much tlie majority, but for a general consent of every one, even to a man, in all
ages and countries, this would make it either no argument, or a perfectly useless and
unnecessary one. For if any one deny a God, such a aniversality of consent is

(n) In his Third Letter to the Bishop of Worcester.

46 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. Book 1.

§. 9. But had all mankind, every where, a notion of a God,
(whereof yet history tells us the contrary) it would not from

destroyed ; and if nobody does deny a God, what need of arguments to convince
Atheists ?

" I would crave leave to ask your lordship, were there ever in the world any Atheists or
no ? If there were not, what need is there of raishig a question about the being of a
God, when nobody questions it ? What need of provisional arguments against a fault,
from which mankind are so wholly free ; and which, by an universal consent, they may
be presumed to be secure from ? If you say (as I doubt not but you will) that theie have
been Atheists in the world, then your lordship's universal consent reduces itself to only
a great majority ; and then make that majority as great as you will, what I have said in
the place quoted by your lordship, leaves it in its full force ; and 1 have not said one
word that does in the least invalidate this argument for a God. The argument I was
upon there, was to show, that the idea of God was not innate ',' and to my purpose it was
sufficient, if there were but a less number found in the world, who had no idea of God,
than your lordship will allow there have been of professed Atheists ; for whatsoever is
innate, must be universal in the strictest sense. One exception is a sufficient proof against
it. So that all that I said, and which was quite to another purpose, did not at all tend,
nor can be made use of, to invalidate the argument for a Deity, grounded on such an uni-
versal consent, as your lordship, and all that build on it, must own ; which is only a very
disproportioned majority : such an universal consent, my argument there neitlier affirms
nor requires to be less than you will be pleased to allow it. Your lordship, therefore,
might, without any prejudice to those declarations of good-will and favour you have for
the author of the Essay of Human Understanding, have spared the mentioning his quoting
authors that are in print, for matters of fact to quite another purpose, ' as going about to
invalidate tlie argument for a Deity from the universal consent of mankind,' since he
leaves that universal consent as entire and as large as you yourself do, or can own, or
suppose it. But here I have no reason to be sorry that your lordship has given me this
occasion for the vindication of this passage of my book ; if there shoidd be any one
besides your lordship, who should so far mistake it, as to think it in the least invalidates
the argument for a God, from the universal consent of mankind.

" But because you question the credibility of those authors I have quoted, which you
say were very ill chosen, I will crave leave to say, that he whom I relied on for his tes-
timony concerning the Hottentots of Soldania, wais no less a man than an ambassador from
the King of England to the Great Mogul ; of whose relation, M. Thevenot, no ill
judge in the case, had so great an esteem, that he was at the pains to translate it into
French, and publish it in his (which is counted no injudicious) Collection of Travels.
But to intercede with your lordship for a little more favourable allowance of credit to
Sir niomas Roe's relation, Coore, an inhabitant of the country, who could speak English,
assured Mr. Terry, {a) that they of Soldania had no God. But if he, too, have the
ill luck to find no credit with you, I hope you will be a little more favourable to a divine
of the church of England, now living, and admit of his testimony in confirmation of Sir
Thomas Roe's. This worthy gentleman, in the relation of his voyage to Surat, printed
but two years since, speaking of the same people, has these words : (h) ' 'They are sunk
even below idolatry, are destitute of both priest and temple, and saving a little show of
rejoicing which is made at the full and new moon, have lost all kind of religious devotion.
Nature has so richly provided for their convenience in diis life, that they have drowned
all sense of the God of it, and are grown quite careless of the next.'

" But to provide against the clearest evidence of Atheism in these people, you say, 'That
the account given of them, makes them not fit to be a standard for the sense of mankind.'
This, I think, may pass for nothing, till somebody be foynd, that makes them to be a
standard for the sense of mankind. All the use I made of them, was to show that there were
men in the world that had no innate idea of God. But to keep somediing like an argument
going, (for what will net that do ?) you go near denying those Cafers to be men. What else
do these words signify ? ' A people so strangely bereft of common sense, that they can hardly
be reckoned among mankind, as appears by the best accounts of the Cafers of Soldania, &c.'
I hope if any of them were called Peter, James, or John, it would be past scruple that
they were men : however, Courwee, Wewena, and Cowsheda, and those others who had
(fl) Terry's -Voyage, p. 17, 23. (b) Mr. Ovington, p. 489.

Ch. 4. NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. 47

thence follow, that the idea of Him was innate. For though no
nation were to be found without a name, and some few dark no-
tions of Him, yet that would not prove them to be natural im-
pressions on the mind, any more than the names of fire, or the
sun, heat, or number, do prove the ideas they stand for to be
innate ; because the names of those things, and the ideas of
them, are so universally received and known amongst mankind.
Nor, on the contrary, is the want of such a name, or the absence
of such a notion, out of men's minds, any argument against the
being of God, any more than it would be a proof that there was
no loadstone in the world, because a great part of mankind had
neither a notion of any such thing, nor a name for it ; or be
any show of argument to prove, that there are no distinct and
various species of angels, or intelligent beings above us, because
we have no ideas of such distinct species, or names for them ;
for men being furnished with words by the common language
of their own countries, can scarce avoid having some kind of
ideas of those things, whose names those they converse with,
have occasion frequently to mention to them. And if they carry
with it the notion of excellency, greatness, or something extra-
ordinary ; if apprehension and concernment accompany it ; if
the fear of absolute and irresistible power set it on upon the
mind, the idea is likely to sink the deeper, and spread the farther;
especially if it be such an idea as is agreeable to the common
light of reason, and naturally deducible from every part of our
knowledge, as that of a God is. For the visible marks of ex-
traordinary wisdom and power appear so plainly in all the works
of the creation, that a rational creature, who will but seriously
reflect on them, cannot miss the discovery of a Deity; and the
influence that the discovery of such a being must necessarily
have on the minds of all that have but once heard of it, is so
great, and carries such a weight of thought and communication
with it, that it seems stranger to me, that a whole nation of men
should be any where found so brutish, as to want the notion of
a God, than that they should be without any notion of numbers
or fire.

§. 10. The name of God being once mentioned in any part

names, tliat had no places in your nomenclator, would hardly pass muster ■witli your
lordship.

" My lord, I should not mention this, but that what you yourself say here, may be a
motive to you to consider, that what you have laid such stress on concerning the general
nature of man, as a real being, and the subject of properties, amounts to notliing for the
distinguishing of species ; since you yourself own, that there may be individuals, wherein
there is a common nature with a particular subsistence proper to each of tlieni ; whereby
you are so little able to know of which of the ranks or sorts they arc, into which you
say God has ordered beings, and which he hath distinguished by essential properties, that
you are in doubt whether they ought to be reckoned among mankind or no.''

48 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. Book 1.

of the world, to express a superior, powerful, wise, invisible
being, the suitableness of such a notion to the principles of
common reason, and the interest men will always have to men-
tion it often, must necessarily spread it far and wide, and con-
tinue it down to all generations ; though yet the general recep-
tion of this name, and some imperfect and unsteady notions
conveyed thereby to the unthinking part of mankind, prove not
the idea to be innate ; but only that they who made the dis-
covery, had made a right use of their reason, thought maturely
of the causes of things, and traced them to their original ; from
whom, other less considering people having once received so
important a notion, it could not easily be lost again.

§.11 This is all could be inferred from the notion of a God,
were it to be found universally in all the tribes of mankind, and
generally acknowledged by men grown to maturity in all coun-
tries. For the generality of the acknowledging of a God, as I
imagine, is extended no farther than that ; which, if it be suffi-
cient to prove the idea of God innate, will as well prove the idea
of fire innate ; since, I think, it may be truly said, that there is
not a person in the world who has a notion of a God, who has
not also the idea of fire. I doubt not, but if a colony of young
children should be placed in an island where no fire was, they
would certainly have neither any notion of such a thing, nor name
for it, how generally soever it were received and known in all
the world besides ; and, perhaps, too, their apprehensions would
be as far removed from any name, or notion of a God, until some
one amongst them had employed his thoughts, to enquire
into the constitution and causes of things, which would easily
lead him to the notion of a God ; which having once taught to
others, reason, and the natural propensity of their own thoughts,
would afterwards propagate and continue amongst them.

§. 12. Suitable to God's goodness, that all ?iien should have an
idea of him, therefore naturally imprinted by him, answered. —
Indeed it is urged, that it is suitable to the goodness of God, to
imprint upon the minds of men, characters and notions of him-
self, and not to leave them in the dark, and doubt, in so grand a
concernment ; and also by that means, to secure to himself the
homage and veneration due from so intelligent a creature as
man ; and, therefore, he has done it.

This argument, if it be of any force, will prove much more
than those, who use it in this case, expect from it. For if we
may conclude, that God hath done for men, all that men shall
judge is best for them, because it is suitable to his goodness so
to do, it will prove not only that God has imprinted on the
minds of men an idea of himself, but that he hath plainly
stamped there, in fair characters, all that men ought to know or

Ch. 4. NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. 49

believe of him, all that, they ought to do in obedience to his will;
and that he hath given them a will and att'ections conformable
to it. This, no doubt, every one will think better for men,
than that they should, in the dark, grope after knowledge, as
St. Paul tells us all nations did after God, Acts xvii. 27, than
that their wills should clash with their understandings, and their
appetites cross their duty. The Romanists say, it is best for
men, and so suitable to the goodness of God, that there should
be an infallible judge of controversies on earth; and, therefore,
there is one : and I, by the same reason, say, it is better for men,
that every man himself should be infallible. I leave them to
consider, whether, by the force of this argument, they shall think
that every man is so. I think it a very good argument, to say,
the infinitely wise God hath made it so ; and, therefore, it is best.
But it seems to me a little too much confidence of our own
wisdom, to say, " I think it best, and, therefore, God hath made it
so ;" and in the matter in hand, it will be in vain to argue from
such a topic, that God hath done so, when certain experience
shows us that he hath not. But the goodness of God hath not
been wanting to men, without such original impressions of know-
ledge, or ideas, stamped on the mind ; since he hath furnished
man with those faculties which will serve for the suflicient dis-
covery of all things requisite to the end of such a Being ; and I
doubt not but to show, that a man, by the right use of his na-
tural abilities, may, without any innate principles, attain a
knowledoe of a God, and other things that concern him. God
having endued man with those faculties of knowing which he
hath, was no more obliged, by his goodness, to plant those
innate notions in his mind, than that, having given him reason,
hands, and materials, he should build him bridges, or houses,
which some people in the world, however of good parts, do
either totally want, or are but ill provided of, as well as others
are wholly without ideas of God, and principles of morality;
or, at least, have but very ill ones. The reason in both cases
being, that they never employed their parts, faculties, and
powers industriously that way, but contented themselves with
the opinions, fashions, and things of their country, as they found
them, without looking any farther. Had you or I been born at
the bay of Soldania, possibly our thoughts and notions had not
exceeded those brutish ones of the Hottentots that inhabit there :
and had the Virginia King Apochancana, been educated in
England, he had been, perhaps, as knowing a divine, and as
good a mathematician, as any in it. The difference between him,
and a more improved Englishman, lying barely in this, that the
exercise of his faculties was bounded within the ways, modes, aiid

50 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. Book 1.

notions of his own country, and never directed to any other, or
farther enquiries ; and if he had not any idea of a God, it was
only because he pursued not those thoughts that would have led
him to it.

§. 13. Ideas of God various in different men. — I grant, that
if there were any idea to be found imprinted on the minds of
men, we have reason to expect it should be the notion of his
Maker, as a mark God set on his own workmanship, to mind
man of his dependence and duty ; and that herein should appear
the first instances of human knowledge. But how late is it be-
fore any such notion is discoverable in children ? and when we
find it there, how much more does it resemble the opinion and
notion of the teacher, than represent the true God? he that shall
observe in children the progress whereby their minds attain the
knowledge they have, will think that the objects they do first
and most familiarly converse with, are those that make the first
impressions on their understandings ; nor will he find the least
footsteps of any other. It is easy to take notice how their
thoughts enlarge themselves, only as they come to be acquainted
with a greater variety of sensible objects, to retain the ideas of
them in their memories ; and to get the skill to compound and
enlarge them, and several ways put them together. How by
these means they come to frame in their minds an idea men have
of a Deity, I shall hereafter show.

§. 14. Can it be thought that the ideas men have of God,
are the characters and marks of Himself, engraven on their
minds by His own finger, when we see, that in the same country,
under one and the same name, men have far diflferent, nay, often
contrary and inconsistent ideas, and conceptions of Him ? their
agreeing in a name, or sound, will scarce prove an innate notion
of Him.

§. 15. What true or tolerable notion of a Deity could they
have, who acknowledged and worshipped hundreds ? every Deity
that they owned above one, was an infallible evidence of their igno-
rance of him, and a proof that they had no true notion of God,
where unity, infinity, and eternity, were excluded. To which,
if we add their gross conceptions of corporeity, expressed in
their images, and representations of their deities ; the amours,
marriages, copulations, lusts, quarrels, and other mean qualities
attributed by them to their gods ; we shall have little reason to
think that the heathen world, i.e. the greatest part of mankind,
had such ideas of God in their minds, as He Himself, out of care
that they should not be mistaken about Him, was author of; and
this universality of consent, so much argued, if it prove any
native impressions, it will be only this, that God imprinted on

Ch.4. NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. 51

the minds of all men, speaking the same language, a name for
Himself, but not any idea : since those people, who agreed in the
name, at the same time, had far different apprehensions about
the thing signified. If they say, that the variety of deities wor-
shipped by the heathen world, were but figurative ways of ex-
pressing the several attributes of that incomprehensible Being,
or several parts of his providence ; I answer, what they might
be in their original, I will not here enquire ; but that they were
so in the thoughts of the vulgar, I think nobody will affirm :
and he that will consult the voyage of the Bishop of Beryte, c.
13, (not to mention other testimonies) will find, that the theo-
logy of the Siamites professedly owns a plurality of gods : or,
as the Abbe de Choisy more judiciously remarks, in his Journal
du Voyage de Siam, |^, it consists properly in acknowledging no
God at all.

If it be said, that wise men of all nations came to have true
conceptions of the unity and infinity of the Deity, I grant it.
But then this.

First, Excludes universality of consent in any thing but the
name ; for those wise men being very few, perhaps one of a
thousand, this universality is very narrow.

Secondly, It seems to me plainly to prove, that the truest and
best notions men had of God, were not imprinted, but acquired
by thought and meditation, and a right use of their faculties :
since the wise and considerate men of the world, by a right and
careful employment of their thoughts and reason, attained true
notions in this, as well as other things ; whilst the lazy and
inconsiderate part of men, making far the greater number, took
up their notions, by chance, from common tradition, and vulgar
conceptions, without much beating their heads about them. And
if it be a reason to think the notion of God innate, because all
wise men had it, virtue, too, must be innate, for that also wise
men have always had.

§. 16. This was evidently the case of all Gentilism ; nor
hath even amongst Jews, Christians, and Mahometans, who
acknowledge but one God, this doctrine, and the care taken in
those nations to teach men to have true notions of a God, pre-
vailed so far, as to make men to have the same and the true ideas
of Him. How many, even amongst us, will be found, upon en-
quiry, to fancy him in the shape of a man sitting in Heaven ;
and to have many other absurd and unfit conceptions of him ?
Christians, as well as Turks, have had whole sects owning and
contending earnestly for it, and that the Deity was corporeal, and
of human shape : and though we find few among us, who profess
themselves Anthropomorphites, (though some I have met with,

E 2

52 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. Book I.

that own it) yet, I believe, he that will make it his business,
may find amongst the ignorant and uninstructed Christians,
many of that opinion. Talk but with country-people, of almost
any age ; or young people, of almost any condition, and you
shall find, that though the name of God be frequently in their
mouths, yet the notions they apply this name to, are so odd,
low, and pitiful, that nobody can imagine they were taught by a
rational man ; much less, that they were characters written by the
fino;er of God himself. Nor do I see how it derogates more from
the goodness of God, that he has given us minds unfurnished
with these ideas of himself, than that he hath sent us into the
world with bodies unclothed ; and that there is no art or skill
born with us. For being fitted with faculties to attain these, it
is want of industry and consideration in us, and not of bounty in
Him, if we have them not. It is as certain that there is a God, as
that the opposite angles, made by the intersection of two straight
lines, are equal. There was never any rational creature that set
himself sincerely to examine the truth of these propositions, that
could fail to assent to them : though yet it be past doubt, that
there are many men, who having not applied their thoughts that
way, are ignorant both of the one and the other. If any one
think fit to call this (which is the utmost of its extent) universal
consent, such an one I easily allow : but such an universal con-
sent as this, proves not the idea of God, any more than it does
the idea of such angles, innate.

§. 17. If the idea of God he not innate, no other can be sujy-
posed innate. — Since, then, though the knowledge of a God
be the most natural discovery of human reason, yet the idea of
Him is not innate, as, I think, is evident from what has been
said ; I imagine there will scarcely be any other idea found, that
can pretend to it : since, if God hath set any impression, any
character, on the understanding of men, it is most reasonable to
expect it should have been some clear and uniform idea of Him-
self, as far as our weak capacities were capable to receive so in-
comprehensible and infinite an object. But our minds being, at
first, void of that idea, which we are most concerned to have, it
is a strong presumption against all other innate characters. 1
must own, as far as I can observe, I can find none, and would be
glad to be informed by any other.

§. 18. Idea of substance not innate. — I confess, there is ano-
ther idea which would be of general use for mankind to have, as
it is of general talk, as if they had it ; and that is the idea of
substance, which we neither have, nor can have, by sensation or
reflection. If nature took care to provide us any ideas, we
might well expect they should be such, as by our own faculties,
we cannot procure to ourselves : but we see, on the contrary.

C7t. 4. ]\0 INNATE PRINCIPLES. 53

that since by those ways whereby our ideas are brought into
our minds, this is not, we have no such clear idea at all, and,
therefore, signify nothing by the word substance, but only an
uncertain supposition of we know not what, i. e. of some-
thing whereof we have no particular distinct positive idea,
which we take to be the substratum, or support of those ideas
we know.

^.19. No propositions can be innate, since no ideas are innate.
— Whatever then we talk of innate, either speculative or practi-
cal, principles, it may, with as much probability, be said, that a
man hath c€ 100. sterling in his pocket, and yet denieth that he
hath either penny, shilling, crown, or any other coin, out of
which the sum is to be made up ; as to think, that certain pro-
positions are innate, when the ideas about which they are, can
by no means be supposed to be so. The general reception and
assent that is given, doth not at all prove, that the ideas ex-
pressed in them are innate : for in many cases, however the
ideas came there, the assent to words expressing the agreement
or disagreement of such ideas, will necessarily follow. Every
one <that hath a true idea of God, and worship, will assent to
this proposition, " that God is to be worshipped," when expressed
in a language he understands ; and every rational man, that hath
not thought on it to-day, may be ready to assent to this pro-
position to-morrow ; and yet millions of me« may be well sup-
posed to want one, or both those ideas to day. For if we will
allow savages, and most country people, to have ideas of God
and worship, (which conversation with them will not make one
forward to believe) yet, I think, few children can be supposed to
have those ideas, which, therefore, they must begin to have some
time or other ; and then, they will also begin to assent to the
proposition, and make very little question of it ever after. But
such an assent upon hearing, no more proves the ideas to be
innate, than it does, that one born blind (with cataracts
which will be couched to-morrow) had the innate ideas of
the sun, or light, or saffron, or yellow; because, when his sight
is cleared, he will certainly assent to this proposition, " that
the sun is lucid, or that saffron is yellow :" and, therefore, if
such an assent upon hearing cannot prove the ideas innate, it can
much less the propositions made up of those ideas. If they
have any innate ideas, I would be glad to be told what, and how
many, they are.

§. 20. No innate ideas in the memory . — To which let me add:
if there be any innate ideas, any ideas in the mind, which the
mind does not actually think on ; they must be lodged in the
memory, and from thence must be brought into view by reniem-'

E 3

54 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. Book 1,

brance ; i. e. must be known, when they are remembered, to
have been perceptions in the mind before, unless remembrance
can be without remembrance. For to remember, is to perceive
any thing with memory, or with a consciousness that it was
known or perceived before ; without this, whatever idea comes
into the mind, is new, and not remembered : this consciousness
of its having been in the mind before, being that which dis-
tinguishes remembering from all other ways of thinking. What-
ever idea was never perceived by the mind, was never in the
mind. Whatever idea is in the mind, is either an actual perception,
or else having been an actual perception, is so in the mind, that
by the memory, it can be made an actual perception again.
Whenever there is the actual perception of an idea without
memory, the idea appears perfectly new and unknown before to
the understanding. Whenever the memory brings any idea into
actual view, it is with a consciousness that it had been there
before, and was not wholly a stranger to the mind. Whether
this be not so, I appeal to every one's observation: and then I
desire an instance of an idea, pretended to be innate, which (be-
fore any impression of it, by ways hereafter to be mentioned) any
one could revive and remember as an idea he had formerly
known ; without which consciousness of a former perception,
there is no remembrance ; and whatever idea comes into the
mind without that consciousness, is not remembered, or comes
not out of the memory, nor can be said to be in the mind before
that appearance. For what is not either actually in view, or in
the memory, is in the mind no way at all, and is all one, as if it
had never been there. Suppose a child had the use of his eyes,
till he knows and distinguishes colours ; but then cataracts shut
the windows, and he is forty or fifty years perfectly in the dark ;
and in that time perfectly loses all memory of the ideas of
colours he once had. This was the case of a blind man I once
talked with, who lost his sight by the small-pox, when he was a
child, and had no more notion of colours, than one born blind.
I ask, whether any one can say this man had then any ideas of
colours in his mind, any more than one born blind ? and, I think,
nobody will say, that either of them had in his mind, any idea
of colours at all. His cataracts are couched, and then he has
the ideas (which he remembers not) of colours, de novo, by his
restored sight, conveyed to his mind, and that without any con-
sciousness of a former acquaintance. And these now he can
revive, and call to mind in the dark. In this case, all these ideas
of colours, which, when out of view, can be revived with a con-
sciousness of a former acquaintance, being thus in the memory,
are said to be in the mind, The use I make of this is, that

Ch. 4. NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. 66

whatever idea being not actually in view, is in the mind, is there
only by being in the memory ; and if it be not in the memory, it
is not in the mind ; and if it be in the memory, it cannot by the
memory be brought into actual view, without a perception that it
comes out of the memory, which is this, that it had been known
before, and is now remembered. If, therefore, there be any
innate ideas, they must be in the memory, or else no where in
the mind ; and if they be in the memory, they can be revived
without any impression from without, and whenever they are
brought into the mind, they are remembered, i. e. they bring
with them a perception of their not being wholly new to it.
This being a constant and distinguishing difference between
what is, and what is not, in the memory, or in the mind ; that
what is not in the memory, whenever it appears there, appears
perfectly new, and unknown before ; and what is in the memory,
or in the mind, whenever it is suggested by the memory, ap-
pears not to be new, but the mind finds it in itself, and knows
it was there before. By this it may be tried, whether there be
any innate ideas in the mind, before impression from sensation
or reflection. I would fain meet with the man, who, when he
came to the use of reason, or at any other time, remembered any
one of them : and to whom, after he was born, they were never
new. If any one will say, there are ideas in the mind, that are
not in the memory, I desire him to explain himself, and make
what he says intelligible.

§. 21. Principles not innate, because of little use, or little
certainty. — Besides what I have already said, there is another
reason why I doubt that neither these, nor any other principles,
are innate. I that am fully persuaded, that the infinitely wise
God made all things in perfect wisdom, cannot satisfy myself,
why he should be supposed to print upon the minds of men,
some universal principles ; whereof those that are pretended
innate, and concern speculation, are of no great use; and those
that concern practice, not self-evident; and neither of them
distinguishable from some other truths, not allowed to be innate.
For to what purpose should characters be graven on the
mind, by the finger of God, which are not clearer there than
those which are afterwards introduced, or cannot be distin-
guished from 'them? If any one thinks there are such innate
ideas and propositions, which, by their clearness and usefulness,
are distinguishable from all that is adventitious in the mind,
and acquired, it will not be a hard matter for him to tell us
which they are; and then every one will be a fit judge whether
they be so or no. Since, if there be such innate ideas and
impressions, plainly different from all other perceptions and

E 4

5« NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. Book I.

knowledge, every one will find it true in himself. Of the
evidence of these supposed innate maxims, Ihave spoken
already ; of their usefulness, I shall have occasion to speak
more hereafter.

§. 22. Difference of mens discoveries, depends upon the dif-
ferent application of their faculties. — To conclude : some ideas
forwardly offer themselves to all men's understandings ; some
sorts of truth result from any ideas, as soon as the mind puts
them into propositions : other truths require a train of ideas
placed in order, a due comparing of them, and deductions made
with attention, before they can be discovered and assented to.
Some of the first sort, because of their general and easy recep-
tion, have been mistaken for innate ; but the truth is, ideas and
notions are no more born with us, than arts and sciences, though
some of them, indeed, offer themselves to our faculties more
readily than others ; and, therefore, are more generally received ;
though that, too, be according as the organs of our bodies, aud
powers of our minds, happen to be employed; God having
fitted men with faculties and means to discover, receive, and
yetain truths, according as they are employed. The great
difference that is to be found in the notions of mankind, is
from the different use they put their faculties to ; whilst some
(and those the most) taking things upon trust, misemploy their
power of assent, by lazily enslaving their minds to the dictates
and dominion of others, in doctrines which it is their duty
carefully to examine ; and not blindly, with an implicit faith,
to swallow : others, employing their thoughts only about some
few things, grow acquainted sufficiently with them, attain great
degrees of knowledge in them, and are ignorant of all other,
having never let their thoughts loose in the search of other
enquiries. Thus, " that the three angles of a triangle are
equal to two right ones," is a truth as certain as any thing can
be ; and I think more evident than many of those propositions
that go for principles ; and yet there are millions, however
expert in other things, who know not this at all, because they
never set their thoughts on work about such angles ; and he
that certainly knows this proposition, may yet be utterly
ignorant of the truth of other propositions, in mathematics
itself, which are as clear and evident as this ; because, in his
search of those mathematical truths, he stopped his thoughts
short, and went not so far. The same may happen concerning
the notions we have of the being of a Deity ; for though there
be no truth which a man may more evidently make out to him-
self, than the existence of a God, yet he that shall content him-
self with things as he finds them in this world, as they minister

Ch.4. NO INNATE PIUJSCIPLES. 57

to his pleasures and passions, and not make enquiry a little
farther into the causes, ends, and admirable contrivances, and
pursue the thoughts thereof with diligence and attention, may
live long without any notion of such a being. And if any
person hath, by talk, put such a notion into his head, he may,
perhaps, believe it ; but if he hath never examined it, his know-
ledge of it will be no perfecter than his, who having been told,
that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right
ones, takes it upon trust, without examining the demonstration;
and may yield his assent as a probable opinion, but hath no
knowledge of the truth of it ; which yet his faculties, if care-
fully employed, were able to make clear and evident to him.
But this only, by the by, to show how much our knowledge
depends upon the right use of those powers nature hath
bestowed upon us, and how little upon such innate principles,
as are in vain supposed to be in all mankind for their direction ;
which all men could not but know, if they were there, or else
they would be there to no purpose ; and which, since all men
do not know, nor can distinguish from other adventitious truths,
we may well conclude there are no such.

§. 2i3. Men must think and know for themselves .—WYibX,
censure, doubting thus of innate principles, may deserve from
men, who wtU be apt to call it, pulling up the old foundations
of knowledge and certainty, I cannot tell ; I persuade myself,
at least, that the way I have pursued, being conformable to
truth, lays those foundations surer. This, I am certain, I have
not made it my business either to quit or follow any authority
in the ensuing discourse ; truth has been my only aim ; and
wherever that has appeared to lead, my thoughts have impar-
tially followed, without minding whether the footsteps of any
other lay that way or no. Not that I want a due respect to
other men's opinions ; but, after all, the greatest reverence is
due to truth ; and I hope it will not be thought arrogance to
say, that, perhaps, we should make greater progress in the dis-
covery of rational and contemplative knowledge, if we sought
it in the fountain, in the consideration of things themselves ;
and made use rather of our own thoughts, than other men's, to
find it. For, I think, we may as rationally hope to see with
other men's eyes, as to know by other men's understandings.
So much as we ourselves consider and comprehend of truth and
reason, so much we possess of real and true knowledge. The
floating of other men's opinions in our brains, makes us not one
jot the more knowing, though they happen to be true. What
in them was science, is in us but opiniatrety ; whilst we give
up our assent only to reverend names, and do not, as they did,

D 4

58 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. Book 1.

employ our own reason to understand those truths which gave
them reputation. Aristotle was certainly a knowing man, but
nobody ever thought him so, because he blindly embraced, and
confidently vented, the opinions of another. And if the taking
up of another's principles, without examining them, made not
him a philosopher, I suppose it will hardly make any body else
so. In the sciences, every one has so much as he really knows
and comprehends ; what he believes only, and takes upon trust,
are but shreds ; which, however well in the whole piece, make
no considerable addition to his stock who gathers them. Such
borrowed wealth, like fairy money, though it were gold in the
hand from which he received it, will be but leaves and dust
when it comes to use.

§. 24. Whence ths opinion of innate principles. — When men
have found some general propositions that could not be doubted
of as soon as understood, it was, I know, a short and easy way
to conclude them innate. This being once received, it eased
the lazy from the pains of search, and stopped the enquiry of
the doubtful, concerning all that was once stiled innate ; and it
was of no small advantage to those who affected to be masters
and teachers, to make this the principle of principles, "that prin-
ciples must not be questioned ;" for having once established this
tenet, that there are innate principles, it put their followers
upon a necessity of receiving some doctrines as such ; which
was to take them off from the use of their own reason and judg-
ment, and put them upon believing and taking them upon trust,
without farther examination : in which posture of blind credulity,
they might be more easily governed by, and made useful to, some
sort of men, who had the skill and office to principle and guide
them. Nor is it a small power he gives one man over another,
to have the authority to be the dictator of principles, and teacher
of unquestionable truths ; and to make a man swallow that for
an innate principle, which may serve to his purpose who teacheth
them. Whereas, had they examined the ways whereby men
came by the knowledge of many universal truths, they would
have found them to result in the minds of men, from the being
of things themselves, when duly considered ; and that they were
discovered by the application of those faculties that were fitted
by nature to receive and judge of them, when duly employed
about them.

§. 25. Conclusion. — To show how the understanding proceeds
herein, is the design of the following discourse ; which I shall
proceed to, when I have first premised, that hitherto, to clear my
way to those foundations, which I conceive are the only true
ones whereon to establish those notions we can have of our own

Ch. 1. THE ORIGINAL OF OUR IDEAS. 59

knowledge, it hath been necessary for me to give an account of
the reasons I had to doubt of innate principles : and since the
arguments which are against them, do some of them rise from
common received opinions, I have been forced to take several
things for granted, which is hardly avoidable to any one, whose
task is to show the falsehood or improbability of any tenet;
it happening in controversial discourses, as it does in assaulting
of towns, where, if the ground be but firm whereon the bat-
teries are erected, there is no farther inquiry of whom it is
borrowed, nor whom it belongs to, so it affords but a fit rise for
the present purpose. But in the future part of this discourse,
designing to raise an edifice uniform and consistent with itself,
as far as my own experience and observation will assist me, I
hope to erect it on such a basis, that I shall not need to shore
it up with props and buttresses, leaning on borrowed or begged
foundations ; or at least, if mine prove a castle in the air, I will
endeavour it shall be all of a piece, and hang together. Wherein
1 warn the reader not to expect undeniable cogent demonstra-
tions, unless I may be allowed the privilege, not seldom assumed
by others, to take my principles for granted ; and then, I doubt
not, but I can demonstrate too. All that I shall say for the
principles I proceed on, is, that I can only appeal to men's own
unprejudiced experience and observation, whether they be true
or no ; and this is enough for a man who professes no more
than to lay down candidly and freely his own conjectures con-
cerning a subject lying somewhat in the dark, without any other
design than an unbiassed enquiry after truth.

BOOK II. CHAPTER I.

OV IDEAS IN GENERAL, AND THEIR ORIGINAL.

§. 1. IDEA is the object of thinking.— E\ buy man being
conscious to himself that he thinks, and that which his mind is
applied about whilst thinking, being the ideas that are there,
it is past doubt, that men have in their mind several ideas, such
as are those expressed by the words, whiteness, hardness, sweet-
ness, thinking, motion, man, elephant, army, drunkenness, and
others : it is in the first place then to be enquired, how he comes
by them ? I know it is a received doctrine, that men have
native ideas, and original characters, stamped upon their minds
in their very first being. This opinion I have at large examined
already ; and, I suppose, what I have said in the foregoing book.

GO THE ORIGINAL Or OUR IDEAS. Book'L

will be much more easily admitted, when 1 have shown whence
the understanding may get all the ideas it has, and by what ways
and degrees they may come into the mind, for which I shall ap-
peal to every one's own observation and experience.

§. 2. All ideas come from sensation or reflection. — Let us
then suppose the mind to be, as we say, white paper, void of all
characters, without any ideas ; how comes it to be furnished ?
Whence comes it by that vast store which the busy and bound-
less fancy of man has painted on it, with an almost endless
variety ? AVhence has it all the materials of reason and know-
ledge ? To this I answer in one word, from experience ; in that
all our knowledge is founded ; and from that it ultimately derives
itself. Our observation employed either about external sensible
objects, or about the internal operations of our minds, perceived
and reflected on by ourselves, is that which supplies our under-
standings with all the materials of thinking. These two are the
fountains of knowledge, from whence all the ideas we have, or
can naturally have, do spring.

§. 3. The objects of sensation one source of ideas. — Jfirst, Our
senses, conversant about particular sensible objects, do convey
into the mind several distinct perceptions of things, according
to those various ways wherein those objects do affect them :
and thus we come by those ideas we have, of yellow, white,
heat, cold, soft, hard, bitter, sweet, and all those which we call
sensible qualities, which, when I say, the senses convey into the
mind, I mean, they, from external objects, convey into the mind
what produces there those perceptions. This great source of
most of the ideas we have, depending wholly upon our senses,
and derived by them to the understanding, I call sensation.

§. 4. The operations of our minds ilie other source of them. —
Secondly, The other fountain, from which experience furnisheth
the understanding with ideas, is the perception of the operations
of our own mind within us, as it is employed about the ideas
it has got ; which operations, when the soul comes to reflect on,
and consider, do furnish the understanding with another set of
ideas, which could not be had from things without ; and such
are, perception, thinking, doubting, believing, reasoning, know-
ing, willing, and all the diff"erent actings of our own minds;
which we being conscious of, and observing in ourselves, do from
these receive into our understandings as distinct ideas, as we
do from bodies affecting our senses. This source of ideas, every
man has wholly in himself; tmd though it be not sense, as
having nothing to do with external %bjects, yet it is very like it,
and might properly enough be called internal sense. But as I
call the other sensation, so I call this reflection, the ideas it

Ck. 1. THE ORIGINAL OF OUR IDEAS. Ol

aiFords being such only, as the mind gets by reflecting on its
own operations, within itself. By reflection, then, in the follow-
ing part of this discourse, I would be vmderstood to mean that
notice which the mind takes of its own operations, and the
manner of them, by reason whereof, there come to be ideas of
these operations in the understanding. These two, I say, viz.
external material things, as the objects of sensation, and the
operations of our own minds within, as the objects of reflection,
are to me the only orig-inals from whence all our ideas take
their beginnings. The term operations here I use in a large
sense, as comprehending not barely the actions of the mind
about its ideas, but some sort of passions arising sometimes from
them, such as is the satisfaction or uneasiness arising from any
thought.

§. 5, All our ideas are of the one or the other of these. — The
understanding seems to me not to have the least glimmering of
any ideas which it doth not receive from one of these two.
External objects furnish the mind with the ideas of sensible
qualities, which are all those different perceptions they produce
in us : and the mind furnishes the understanding with ideas of
its own operations.

These, w^hen we have taken a full survey of them and their
several modes, combinations, and relations, we shall find to con-
tain all our whole stock of ideas ; and that we have nothing in
our minds which did not come in one of these two ways. Let
any one examine his own thoughts, and thoroughly search into
his understanding, and then let him tell me, whether all the
original ideas he has there, are any other than of the objects of
his senses, or of the operations of his mind, considered as ob-
jects of his reflection ; and how great a mass of knowledge
soever he imagines to be lodged there, he will, upon taking a
strict view, see that he has not any idea in his mind, but what
one of these two have imprinted; though, perhaps, with infinite
variety compounded and enlarged by the understanding, as we
shall see hereafter.

§. 6. Ohservable in children. — He that attentively considers
the state of a child at his first coming into the world, will have
little reason to think him stored with plenty of ideas, that are
to be the matter of his future knowledge. It is by degrees he
comes to be furnished with them : and though the ideas of
obvious and familiar qualities imprint themselves before the
memory begins to keep a register of time or order, yet it is
often so late before some unusual qualities come in the way,
that there are few men that cannot recollect the beginning of
their acquaintance with them ; and if it were worth while, no

62 THE ORIGINAL OF OUR IDEAS. Book'l.

doubt a child might be so ordered, as to have but a very few,
even of the ordinary ideas, till he were grown up to a man. But
all that are born into the world, being surrounded with bodies
that perpetually and diversly affect them ; variety of ideas, whether
care be taken of it or no, are imprinted on the minds of chil-
dren. Light and colours are busy at hand every where, when the
eye is but open ; sounds, and some tangible qualities, fail not to
solicit their proper senses, and force an entrance to the mind ;
but yet, I think, it will be granted easily, that if a child were
kept in a place where he never saw any other but black and
white, till he were a man, he would have no more ideas of scarlet
or green, than he that from his childhood never tasted an
oyster, or a pine-apple, has of those particular relishes.

§. 7. Men are dijferently furnished with these, according to
the different objects they converse with. — Men then come to be
furnished with fewer or more simple ideas from without, accord-
ing as the objects they converse with, afford greater or less
variety ; and from the operations of their minds within, accord-
ing as they more or less reflect on them. For though he that
contemplates the operations of his mind, cannot but have plain
and clear ideas of them ; yet, unless he turns his thoughts that
way, and considers them attentively, he will no more have clear
and distinct ideas of all the operations of his mind, and all that
may be observed therein, than he will have all the particular
ideas of any landscape, or of the parts and motions of a clock,
who will not turn his eyes to it, and with attention heed all the
parts of it. The picture, or clock, may be so placed, that they
may come in his way every day ; but yet he will have but a con-
fused idea of all the parts they are made up of, till he applies
himself with attention, to consider them each in particular.

§. 8. Ideas of reflection later , because they need attention. —
And hence we see the reason, why it is pretty late before most
children get ideas of the operations of their own minds ; and
some have not any very clear or perfect ideas of the greatest
part of them all their lives. Because, though they pass there
continually, yet, like floating visions, they make not deep im-
pressions enough to leave in the mind clear, distinct, lasting
ideas, till the understanding turns inward upon itself, reflects
on its own operations, and makes them the objects of its own
contemplation. Children, when they come first into it, are sur-
rounded with a world of new things, which, by a constant soli-
citation of their senses, draw the mind constantly to them, forward
to take notice of new, and apt to be delighted with the variety
of changing objects. Thus the first years are usually employed
and diverted in looking abroad. Men's business in them is to

Ch. 1. THE ORIGINwVL OF OUR IDEAS. 63

acquaint themselves with what is to be found without ; and so
growing up in a constant attention to outward sensation, seldom
make any considerable reflection on what passes within them,
till they come to be of riper years ; and some scarce ever
at all.

i^. 9. The soul begins to have ideas, when it begins to per-
ceive.— To ask at what time a man has first any ideas ? is to ask
when he begins to perceive? having ideas, and perception, being
the same thing. I know it is an opinion, that the soul always
thinks, and that it has the actual perception of ideas in itself
constantly, as long as it exists ; and that actual thinking is as
inseparable from the soul, as actual extension is from the body ;
which, if true, to enquire after the beginning of a man's ideas,
is the same, as to enquire after the beginning of his soul. For,
by this account, soul and its ideas, as body and its extension,
will begin to exist both at the same time.

§. 10. The soul thinks not always ; for this wants proofs. —
But whether the soul be supposed to exist antecedent to, or co-
eval with, or some time after, the first rudiments of organization,
or the beginnings of life in the body, I leave to be disputed by
those who have better thought of that matter. I confess myself
to have one of those dull souls, that doth not perceive itself
always to contemplate ideas, nor can conceive it any more
necessary for the soul always to think, than for the body always
to move ; the perception of ideas being (as I conceive) to the
soul, what motion is to the body, not its essence, but one of its
operations ; and, therefore, though thinking be supposed ever
so much the proper action of the soul, yet it is not necessary
to suppose, that it should be always thinking, always in action.
That, perhaps, is the privilege of the infinite Author and Pre-
server of things, who never slumbers nor sleeps ; but is not
competent to any finite being, at least not to the soul of man.
We know certainly, by experience, that we sometimes think, and
thence draw this infallible consequence, that there is something
in us that has a power to think ; but whether that substance per^
petually thinks or no, we can be no farther assured, than expe-
rience informs us. For to say, that actual thinking is essential
to the soul, and inseparable from it, is to beg what is in ques-
tion, and not to prove it by reason ; which is necessary to be
done, if it be not a self-evident proposition. But whether this,
" that the soul always thinks," be a self-evident proposition,
that every body assents to at first hearing, I appeal to mankind.
It is doubted whether I thought at all last night, or no ; the ques-
tion being about a matter of fact, it is begging it to bring, as a
proof for it, an hypothesis, which is the very thing in dispute ;

B4 TBE ORIGINAL OP OUR IDEAS. Book 2.

by which way one may prove any thing, and it is but supposing
that all watches, whilst the balance beats, think, and it is
sufficiently proved, and past doubt, that niy watch thought all
last night. But he that would not deceive himself, ought to
build his hypothesis on matter of fact, and make it out by sen-
sible experience, and not presume on matter of fact, because of
his hypothesis, that is, because he supposes it to be so ; which
way of proving amounts to this, that I must necessarily think
all last night, because another supposes I always think, though
I myself cannot perceive that I always do so.

But men in love with their opinions, may not only suppose
what is in question, but allege wrong matter of fact. How
else could any one make it an inference of mine, " that a thing
is not, because we are not sensible of it in our sleep V I did
not say there is no soul in a man, because he is not sensible of
it in his sleep ; but I do say, he cannot think at any time, waking
or sleeping, without being sensible of it. Our being sensible
of it, is not necessary to any thing, but to our thoughts ; and
to them it is, and to them it will always be necessary, till we
can think without being conscious of it.

§.11. It is not always conscious of it. — I grant that the soul
in a waking man is never without thought, because it is the con-
dition of being awake : but whether sleeping, without dreaming,
be not an affection of the whole man, mind as well as body, maybe
worth a waking man's consideration ; it being hard to conceive
that any thing should think, and not be conscious of it. If the
soul doth think in a sleeping man, without being conscious of
it, I ask, whether, during such thinking, it has any pleasure or
pain, or be capable of happiness or misery ? I am sure the man
is not, any more than the bed or earth he lies on. For to be
happy or miserable, without being conscious of it, seems to me
utterly inconsistent and impossible ; or if it be possible that the
soul can, whilst the body is sleeping, have its thinking, enjoy-
ments, and concerns, its pleasure or pain apart, which the man is
not conscious of, nor partakes in. It is certain that Socrates
asleep, and Socrates awake, is not the same person : but his
soul when he sleeps, and Socrates the man, consisting of body
and soul when he is waking, are two persons ; since waking,
Socrates has no knowledge of, or concernment for that happiness
or misery of his soul, which it enjoys alone by itself, whilst he
sleeps, without perceiving any thing of it, any more than he has
for the happiness or misery of a man in the Indies, whom he
knows not. For if we take wholly away all consciousness of
our actions and sensations, especially of pleasure and pain, and

Ck. 1. MEN THINK NOT ALWAYS. 65

the concernment that accompanies it, it will be hard to know
wherein to place personal identity.

§. 12. If a sleeping man thinks without knowing it, the
sleeping and waking man are two persons. — The soul, during
sound sleep, thinks, say these men. Whilst it thinks and per-
ceives, it is capable certainly of those of delight or trouble, as
well as any other perceptions ; and it must necessarily be con-
scious of its own perceptions. But it has all this apart. The
sleeping man, it is plain, is conscious of nothing of all this.
Let us suppose then the soul of Castor, while he is sleeping,
retired from his body, which is no impossible supposition for the
men I have here to do with, who so liberally allow life, without
a thinking soul, to all other animals. These men cannot then
judge it impossible, or a contradiction, that the body should
live without the soul ; nor that the soul should subsist and think,
or have perception, even perception of happiness or misery,
without the body. Let us then, as I say, suppose the soul of
Castor separated, during his sleep, from his body, to think apart.
Let us suppose, too, that it chooses for its scene of thinking, the
body of another man, v. g. Pollux, who is sleeping without a
soul ; for if Castor's soul can think whilst Castor is asleep,
what Castor is never conscious of, it is no matter what place it
chooses to think in. We have here, then, the bodies of two
men, with only one soul between them, which we will suppose
to sleep and wake by turns ; and the soul still thinking in the
waking man, whereof the sleeping man is never conscious, has
never the least perception. I ask then, whether Castor and
Pollux, thus, with only one soul between them, which thinks
and perceives in one, what the other is never conscious of, nor
is concerned for, are not two as distinct persons as Castor and
Hercules, or as Socrates and Plato were ? And whether one of
them might not be very happy, and the other very miserable ?
Just by the same reason, they make the soul and the man two
persons, who make the soul think apart, what the man is not
conscious of. For, I suppose, nobody will make identity of
person to consist in the soul's being united to the very same
numerical particles of matter ; for if that be necessary to iden-
tity, it will be impossible, in that constant flux of the particles
of our bodies, that any man should be the same person two
days, or two moments, together.

§. 13. Imjjossible to convince those that sleep without dreaming,
that they think. — Thus, methinks, every drowsy nod shakes their
doctrine, who teach, that the soul is always thinking. Those,
at least, who do at any time sleep without dreaming, can never
be convinced, that their thoughts are sometimes for four hours

66 MEN THINK NOT ALWAYS. Book2.

busy without their knowing of it ; and if they are taken in the
very act, waked in the middle of that sleeping contemplation,
can give no manner of account of it.

§. 14. That men dream tcithout remembering it^in vain urged,
— It will, perhaps, be said, " that the soul thinks, even in the
soundest sleep, but the memory retains it not." That the soul
in a sleeping man should be this moment busy thinking, and the
next moment in a waking man, not remember, nor be able to
recollect one jot of all those thoughts, is very hard to be con-
ceived, and would need some better proof than bare assertion,
to make it be believed. For who can, without any more ado, but
being barely told so, imagine, that the greatest part of men do,
during all their lives, for several hours every day, think of some-
thing, which, if they were asked, even in the middle of these
thoughts, they could remember nothing at all of? Most men, I
think, pass a great part of their sleep without dreaming. I once
knew a man that was bred a scholar, and had no bad memory,
who told me he had never dreamed in his life till he had that
fever he was then newly recovered of, which was about the five
or six and twentieth year of his age. I suppose the world affords
more such instances : at least every one's acquaintance will fur-
nish him with examples enough of such as pass most of their
nights without dreaming.

§. 15. VjJon this hypothesis, the thoughts of a sleeping man
ought to he most rational. — To think often, and never to retain it
so much as one moment, is a very useless sort of thinking : and
the soul, in such a state of thinking, does very little, if at all,
excel that of a looking-glass, which constantly receives variety
of images, or ideas, but retains none ; they disappear and vanish,
and there remain no footsteps of them : the looking-glass is
never the better for such ideas, nor the soul for such thoughts.
Perhaps it will be said, *' that in a waking man, the materials of
the body are employed and made use of in thinking ; and that
the memory of thoughts is retained by the impressions that are
made on the brain, and the traces there left after such thinking ;
but that in the thinking of the soul, which is not perceived in a
sleeping" man, there the soul thinks apart, and making no use of
the organs of the body, leaves no impressions on it, and conse-
quently no memory of such thoughts." Not to mention again
the absurdity of two distinct persons, which follows from this
supposition, I answer farther, that whatever ideas the mind can
receive, and contemplate without the help of the body, it is
reasonable to conclude, it can retain Avithout the help of the
body too, or else the soul, or any separate spirit, will have but
little advantage by thinking. If it has no memory of its own

Ch. 1. MEN THINK NOT ALWAYS. 67

thoughts ; if it cannot lay them up for its own use, and be able to
recal them upon occasion ; if it cannot reflect upon what is past,
and make use of its former experiences, reasonings, and contfem-
piations, to what purpose does it think ? They, who make the
soul a thinking thing,, at this rate, will not make it a much more
noble being, than those do, whom they condemn, for allowing it
to be nothing but the subtilest parts of matter. Characters
drawn on dust, that the first breath of wind effaces ; or im-
pressions made on a heap of atoms, or animal spirits, are alto-
gether as useful, and render the subject as noble, as the thoughts
of a soul that perish in thinking ; that once out of sight, are
gone for ever, and leave no memory of themselves behind them.
Nature never makes excellent things for mean or no uses : and
it is hardly to be conceived, that our infinite wise Creator
should make so admirable a faculty as the power of thinking,
that faculty which comes nearest the excellency of His own
incomprehensible being, to be so idly and uselessly employed,
at least a fourth part of its time here, as to think constantly,
without remembering any of those thoughts, without doing any
good to itself or others, or being any way useful to any other
part of the creation. If we will examine it, we shall not find, I
suppose, the motion of dull and senseless matter, any where in
the universe, made so little use of, and so wholly thrown away.

§, 16. On this hypothesis the soul must have ideas not derived
from sensation or reflection, of which there is no appearance. — It
is true, we have sometimes instances of perception, whilst we are
asleep, and retain the memory of those thouglits : but how
extravagant and incoherent for the most part they are, how
little comformable to the perfection and order of a rational being,
those who are acquainted with dreams, need not be told. This
I would willingly be satisfied in, whether the soul, when it
thinks thus apart, and as it were separate from the body, acts
less rationally than when conjointly with it or no : if its separate
thoughts be less rational, then these men must say, that the soul
ow^es the perfection of rational thinking to the body : if it does
not, it is a wonder that our dreams should be, for the most part,
so frivolous and irrational ; and that the soul should retain none
of its more rational soliloquies and meditations.

§-17. If J think when I knoxv it not, nohody else can know it.
— Those who so confidently tell us, that "the soul always actually
thinks," I would they would also tell us, what those ideas are
that are in the soul of a child, before, or just at the union with
the body, before it hath received any by sensation. The dreams
of sleeping men are, as I take it, all made up of the waking
man's ideas, ihouii:h, for the most part, oddly put together. It is

F 2

m MEN THINK NOT ALWAYS. Book 2.

strange if the soul has ideas of its own, that it derived not from
sensation or reflection, (as it must have, if it thought before it
received any impressions from the body) that it should never, in
its private thinking, (so private that the man himself perceives
it not) retain any of them, the very moment it wakes out of
them, and then make the man glad with new discoveries. Who
can find it reasonable that the soul should, in its retirement,
during sleep, have so many hours' thoughts, and yet never light
on any of those ideas it borrowed not from sensation or reflec-
tion ; or, at least, preserve the memory of none but such, which
being occasioned from the body, must needs be less natural to a
spirit? It is strange the soul should never once in a man's
whole life, recal over any of its pure native thoughts, and those
ideas it had before it borrowed any thing from the body; never
bring into the waking man's view, any other ideas but what
have a tang of the cask, and manifestly derive their original
from that union. If it alwavs thinks, and so had ideas before it
was united, or before it received any from the body, it is not to
be supposed, but that, during sleep, it recollects its native ideas,
and during that retirement from communicating with the body,
whilst it thinks by itself, the ideas it is busied about, should be,
sometimes at least, those more natural and congenial ones which,
it had in itself, underived from the body, or its own operations
about them : which, since the waking man never remembers, we
must, from this hypothesis, conclude, either that the soul re-
members something that the man does not, or else that memory
belongs only to such ideas as are derived from the body, or the
mind's operations about them.

§. 18. How knows any one (hat the soul always thinks? For
if it he not a self-evident proposition, it needs proof — I would
be glad also to learn from these men, who so confidently pro-
nounce, that the human soul, or which is all one, that a man
always thinks, how they come to know it ? nay, " how they
come to know that they themselves think, when they themselves
do not perceive it?" This, I am afraid, is to be sure without
proofs ; and to know, without perceiving : it is, I suspect, a
confused notion, taken up to serve an hypothesis ; and none of
those clear truths, that either their own evidence forces us to
admit, or common experience makes it impudence to deny. For
the most that can be said of it is, that it is possible the soul
may always think, but not always retain it in memory : and I
say, it is as possible, that the soul may not always think, and
much more probable, that it should sometimes not think, than
that it should often think, and that a long while together, and not
be conscious to itself the next moment after, that it had thought.

Ch. l.> MEN THINK NOT AUVAYS. 69

^. 19. Thai a man should he busy in thinking, and yel not
retain it the next moment, very improhahle.—lo suppose the soul
to think, and the man not to perceive it, is, as has been said, to
make two persons in one man : and if one considers well these
men's way of speaking, one should be led into a suspicion, that
they do so. For they who tell us, that the soul always thinks,
do never, that I remember, say, that a man always thinks. Can
the soul think, and not the man? or a man think, and not be
conscious of it? This, perhaps, would be suspected of jargon
in others. If they say, the man thinks always, but is not always
conscious of it; they may as well say, his body is extended
without having parts. For it is altogether as intelligible to say,
that a body is extended without parts, as that any thing thinks
without being conscious of it, or perceiving that it does so.
They who talk thus, may, with as much reason, if it be neces-
sary to their hypothesis, say, that a man is always hungry,
but that he does not always feel it : whereas, hunger consists
in that very sensation, as thinking consists in being conscious
that one thinks. If they say, that a man is always conscious to
himself of thinking ; I ask, how they know it? Consciousness
is the perception of what passes in a man's own mind. Can
another man perceive that I am conscious of any thing, when I
perceive it not myself? IS'o man's knowledge here, can go
bevond his experience. Wake a man out of a sound sleep,
and ask him, what he was that moment thinking of? If he
himself be conscious of nothing he then thought on, he must be
a notable diviner of thoughts, that can assure him that he was
thinking ; may he not with more reason assure him he was not
asleep ? This is something beyond philosophy ; and it cannot
be less than revelation, that discovers to another, thoughts in
my mind, when I can find none there myself: and they must
needs have a penetrating sight, who can certainly see that I
think, when I cannot perceive it myself, and when I declare that
I do not ; and yet can see that dogs or elephants do not think,
when they give all the demonstration of it imaginable, except
only telling us that they do so. This some may suspect to be
a step beyond the Rosecrucians ; it seeming easier to make
one's self invisible to others, than to make another's thoughts
visible to me, which are not visible to himself. But it is but
defining the soul to be a substance that always thinks, and the
business is done. If such definition be of any authority, I know
not what it can serve for, but to make many men suspect that
they have no souls at all, since they find a good part of their
lives pass away without thinking. For no definitions that I
know, no suppositions of any sect, are of force enoush to

70 MEN THINK NOT ALWAYS. Book'2.

destioy constant experience; and perhaps it is the affectation of
knowing beyond what we perceive, that makes so much useless
dispute and noise in the world.

§. 20. No ideas hut from sensation or reflection, evident, if we
observe children. — I see no reason, therefore, to believe, that the
soul thinks before the senses have furnished it with ideas to
think on ; and as those are increased and retained, so it comes
by exercise, to improve its faculty of thinking in the several
parts of it, as well as afterwards, by compounding those ideas,
and reflecting on its own operations; it increases its stock, as
well as facility, in remembering, imagining, reasoning, and other
modes of thinking. '

§. 21 . He that will suffer himself to be informed by observation
and experience, and not make his own hypothesis the rule of
nature, will find few signs of a soul accustomed to much
thinking in a new-born child, and much fewer of any reasoning
at all. And yet it is hard to imagine, that the rational soul
should think so much, and not reason at alL And he that will
consider, that infants, newly come into the world, spend the
greatest part of their time in sleep, and are seldom awake, but
when either hunger calls for the teat, or some pain, (the most
importunate of all sensations) or some other violent impression
on the body, forces the mind to perceive and attend to it. He,
I say, who considers this, will, perhaps, find reason to imagine,
that a foetus in the mother's womb, differs not much from the
state of a vegetable ; but passes the greatest part of its time
without perception or thought, doing very little in a place where
it needs not seek for food, and is surrounded with liquor, always
equally soft, and near of the same temper ; where the eyes have
no light, and the ears, so shut up, are not very susceptible of
sounds ; and where there is little or no variety or change of
objects to move the senses.

§. 22. Follow a child from its birth, and observe the altera-
tions that time makes, and you shall find, as the mind by the
senses comes more and more to be furnished with ideas, it comes
to be more and more awake ; thinks more, the more it has mat-
ter to think on. After some time, it begins to know the objects,
which being most familiar with it, have made lasting impres-
sions. Thus it comes, by degrees, to know the persons it daily
converses with, and distinguish them from strangers ; which are
instances and effects of its coming to retain and distinguish the
ideas the senses convey to it : and so we may observe, how the
mind, by degrees, improves in these, and advances to the exer-
cise of those other faculties of enlarging, compounding, and ab-
stracting its ideas, and of reasoning about them, and reflecting

Ch. 1. MEN THINK NOT ALWAYS. 71

upon all these, of which I shall have occasion to speak more
hereafter.

§. 23. If it shall be demanded then, when a man begins to
have any ideas ? I think the true answer is, when he first has
any sensation. For since there appear not to be any ideas in the
mind, before the senses have conveyed any in, I conceive that
ideas in the understanding are coeval with sensation : which is
such an impression or motion, made in some part of the body,
as produces some perception in the understanding. It is about
these impressions made on our senses by outward objects, that
the mind seems first to employ itself in such operations as we
call perception, remembering, consideration, reasoning, &c.

§. 24. The original of all our knoivledge. — In time, the mind
comes to reflect on its own operations, about the ideas got by
sensation, and thereby stores itself with a new set of ideas, which
I call ideas of reflection. These are the impressions that are
made on our senses by outward objects, that are extrinsical to
the mind ; and its own operations, proceeding from powei's in-
trinsical and proper to itself, which when reflected on by itself,
becoming also objects of its contemplation, are, as I have said,
the original of all knowledge. Thus the first capacity of hu-
man intellect is, that the mind is fitted to receive the impres-
sions made on it, either through the senses, by outward objects,
or by its own operations, when it reflects on them. This is the
first step a man makes towards the discovery of any thing, and
the ground-work whereon to build all those notions which ever
he shall have naturally in this world. All those sublime
thoughts which tower above the clouds, and reach as high as
Heaven itself, take their rise and footing here : in all that good
extent wherein the mind wanders, in those remote speculations,
it may seem to be elevated with, it stirs not one jot beyond those
ideas which sense or reflection have offered for its contem-
plation.

§. 25. In the reception of simple ideas, the understanding is
for the most part passive. — In this part, the understq^nding is
merely passive; and whether or no it will have these beginnings,
and as it were materials of knowledge, is not in its own power.
For the objects of our senses do, many of them, obtrude their
particular ideas upon our minds, whether we will or no : and the
operations of our minds will not let us be without, at least, some
obscure notions of them. No man can be wholly ignorant of
what he does when he thinks. These simple ideas, when offered
to the mind, the understanding can no more refuse to have, nor
alter, when they are imprinted, nor blot them out and make new
ones itself, than a mirror can refuse, alter, or obliterate the images

f4

72 OF SIMPLE IDEAS. Book %

or ideas which the object set before it do therein produce.
As the bodies that surround us do diversly afiect our organs, the
mind is forced to receive the impressions, and cannot avoid the
perception oi* those ideas that are annexed to them.

CHAPTER 11.

OF SIMPLE IDEAS.

§. 1. Uncompoimded ajyiyearances. — The better to understand
the nature, manner, and extent of our knowledge, one thing is
carefully to be observed concerning the ideas we have ; and that
is, that some of them are simple, and some complex.

Thouo-h the qualities that affect our senses, are, in the things
themselves, so united and blended, that there is no separation,
no distance between them; yet, it is plain, the ideas they produce
in the mind, enter by the senses, simple and unmixed. For though
the sight and touch often take in from the same object, at the
same time, different ideas ; as a man sees at once motion and
colour ; the hand feels softness and warmth in the same piece
of wax; yet the simple ideas thus united in the same subject,
are as perfectly distinct as those that come in by different senses :
the coldness and hardness which a man feels in a piece of ice,
being as distinct ideas in the mind, as the smell and whiteness
of a lily, or as the taste of sugar, and smell of a rose. And
there is nothing can be plainer to a man, than the clear and dis-
tinct perceptions he has of those simple ideas ; which being
each in itself uncompounded, contains in it nothing but one uni-
form appearance or conception in the mind, and is not distin-
guishable into different ideas.

§. 2. The mind can neither make nor destroy them. — The sim-
ple ideas, the materials of all our knowledge, are suggested and
furnished to the mind, only by those two ways above-mentioned,
viz. sens^ation and reflection *. When the understanding is

'* Against this, tliat the materials of all our knowledge are suggested and furnished to
the mind oidy by sfnsatioii and retlection, the Bishop of Worcester makes use of the
Idea of suhstaiite in these words : " If the idea of substame be grounded upon plain
and evident reason, then we must allow an idea of substance, which conies noi in by
sensation or reflection ; and so we may be certain of something which we have not
by these ideas."

'J"o which our author ('«) answers: " Tiiese words of your lordship contain nothing,
as I see in tlicni, ;igainst me; for I never said that the general idea of substance conies
in hy sensation anil reflection ; or that it is a simple idea of sensation or Tttlection,

{a) In lii-j First Letter to the Bishop of Worcester.

Ch.2. OF SIMPLIi IDEAS. 73

once stored with these simple ideas, it has the power to repeat,
compare, and unite them, even to an almost infinite variety, and

though it be ultimately founded in tliem ; for it is a complex idea, made up of the
general idea of something, or being, with the relation of a support to accidents. For
general ideas come not into the mind by sensation or reflection, but are the creatures or
inventions of the understanding, as, I think, 1 have shown (a); and also how the mind
makes them from ideas which it has got by sensation and reHection ; and as to the ideas
of relation, how the mind forms them, and how they are derived from, and ultimately
terminate in, ideas of sensation and reflection, I have likewise shown.

" Buttliat I may not be mistaken what I mean, when 1 speak of ideas of sensation
and reflection, as the materials of all our knowledge ; give me leave, my lord, to set
down here a place or two, out of my book, to explain myself; as I thus speak of ideas
of sensation and reflection:

"'That these, when we have taken a full survey of them, and their several modes, and
the compositions made out of them, we shall find to contain all our whole stock of
ideas, and we have nothing in our minds which did not come in one of these two
ways (b).' This thought, in another place, I express thus:

" ' Tliese are the most considerable of tliese simple ideas which the mind has, and out
of which is made all its otlier knowledge ; all which it receives by the two fore-
meiitioued ways of sensation and reflection (c).' And,

" ' Thus I have in a short draught given a view of our original ideas, from whence
all the re«t are derived, and of wliicli they are made up (d).'

" This, and the like, said in other places, is what 1 have thought concerning ideas
of sensation and reflection, as the foundation and materials of all our ideas, and con-
sequently of all our knowledge : 1 have set down these particulars out of my book,
that the reader, having a full view of my opinion herein, may the better see what in it
is liable to your lordship's reprehension. For that your lordsliip is not very well
satisfied with it, appears not only by the words under consideration, but by these also :
' i3ut we are still told, that our understanding can have no other ideas, but either from
sensation or reflection.'

" Your lordship's argument, in the passage we are upon, stands thus : ' If the general
idea of substance be grounded upon plain and evident reason, then we must allow an
idea of substance, which comes not in by sensation or reflection.' This is a consequence
which, with submission, 1 think will not hold, because it is founded upon a supposition
which I think will not hold, viz., ' That reason and ideas are inconsistent;' for if that
supposition be not true, then the general idea of subi'tance may be grounded on plain
a7id evident reason ; and yet it will not follow from thence, that it is not ultimately
grounded on and derived from ideas which come in by sensation or reflection, and so
cannot be said to come in by sensation or reflection.

" To explain myself, and clear my meaning in this matter, all the ideas of all the
sensible ijualities of a cherry, come into my mind by sensation ; the ideas of perceiving,
tiiinking, reasoning, knowing, &c. come into my mind by reflection. The ideas of these
qualities and actions, or powers, are perceived by the mind, to be by themselves incon-
sistent with existence ; or, as your lordship well expresses it, 'we find that we can have
no true conception of any modes or accidents, but we must conceive a substratum, or
i-ubject, wherein tliey are, i. e. that they cannot exist or subsist of themselves.' Hence
the mind perceives their necessary connection with inherence, or being supported, which
being a relative idea, superadded to the red colour in a cherry, or to thinking in a man,
the mind frames the correlative idea of a support. For I never denied, tliat the mind
could frame to itself ideas of relation, but have showed the quite contrary in my
chapters about relation. But because a relation cannot be founded in nothing, or be the
relation of nothing, and the thing here related as a supporter, or a support, is not re-
presented to the mind by any clear and distinct idea; therefore, the obscure and indistinct
vague idea of thing, or something, is all that is left to be the positive idea, which has
the relation of a support, or substratum, to modes or accidents; and that general inde-
terniined idea of something, is, by the abstraction of the mind, derived also from the

(a) B. 3, c. 3, h. '2. c. 25, 5c c. 28, ^. IS. (h) H. 2. c. 1. «"• 5.

(<•) B. '2, c. 7, j. 10. (.y) B . 2, c. iJ 1 , J. 73.

74 OF SIMPLE IDEAS. Book'2.

so can make at pleasure new complex ideas. But it is not in
the power of the most exalted wit, or enlarged understanding,
by any quickness or variety of thought, to invent or frame one
new simple idea in the mind, not taken in by the ways before-
mentioned : nor can any force of the understanding destroy those
that are there. The dominion of man, in this little world of his
own understanding, being much-what the same as it is in the
great world of visible things ; wherein his power, however ma-
naged by art and skill, reaches no farther than to compound and
divide the materials that are made to his hand ; but can do
nothing towards the making the least particle of new matter, or
destroying one atom of what is already in being. The same
inability will every one find in himself, who shall go about to
fashion in his understanding any simple idea not received in by
his senses from external objects ; or by reflection from the ope-
rations of his own mind about them. I would have any one try
to fancy any taste, which had never affected his palate ; or frame
the idea of a scent he had never smelt : and when he can do
this, I will also conclude, that a blind man hath ideas of colours,
and a deaf man true distinct notions of sounds.

§. 3. This is the reason why, though we cannot believe it
impossible to God to make a creature with other organs, and
more ways to convey into the understanding the notice of cor-
poreal things than those five, as they are usually counted, which
he has given to man : yet I think it is not possible for any one
to imagine any other qualities in bodies, howsoever constituted,

simple ideas of sensation and reflection ; and thus tlie mind, from the positive simple
ideas got by sensation and reflection, comes to tlie genera! relative idea of substance,
which, -without these positive simple ideas, it would never have.

" This your lordship (without giving by detail all the particular steps of the mind in
this business) has well expressed in tliis more familiar way : 'We find we can have no
true conception of any modes or accidents, but we must conceive a substratum, or
subject, wherein they are ; since it is a repugnancy to our conceptions of things, that
modes or accidents should subsist by themselves.'

" Hence your lordship calls it the rational idea of substance. And says, ' I grant,
that by sensation and reflection we come to know the powers and properties of things ;
but our reason is satisfied that there must be something beyond these, because it is impos-
sible that they should subsist by themselves ;' so that if this be what your lordship means
by rational idea of substances, I see nothing there is in it against what I have said,
that it is founded on simple ideas of sensation or reflection, and that it is a very
obscure idea.

" Your lordship's conclusion from your foregoing words, is, ' And so we may be
certain of some things which we have not by those ideas ;' which is a proposition, whose
precise meaning your lordship will forgive me, if I profess, ps it stands there, I do not
understand. For it is uncertain to me, whether your lordship means, we may certainly
know tlie existence of something, which we have not by those ideas ; or certainly know
the distinct properties of something, which we have not by those ideas ; or certainly
know the truth of some proposition, which we have not by tiiose ideas ; for to be certain
of something, may signify either of these : but in which soever of these it be meant, I
do not see how 1 am concerned in it."

CA, 3. IDEAS OF OJSE SENSE. 75

whereby they can be taken notice of, besides sounds, tastes,
smells, visible and tangible qualities. And had mankind been
made but with i'our senses, the qualities then, which are the ob-
ject of the fifth sense, had been as far from our notice, imagina-
tion, and conception, as now any belonging to a sixth, seventh,
or eighth sense, can possibly be : which, whether yet some
other creatures, in some other parts of thib vast and stupendous
universe, may not have, will be a great presumption to deny.
He that will not set himself proudly at the top of all things,
but will consider the immensity of this fabric, and the great
variety that is to be found in this little and inconsiderable part
of it, which he has to do with, may be apt to think, that in
other mansions of it, there may be other and different intelli-
gent beings, of whose faculties he has as little knowledge or ap-
prehension, as a worm shut up in one drawer of a cabinet hath
of the senses or understanding of a man ; such variety and ex-
cellency being suitable to the wisdom and power of the Maker.
1 have here followed the common opinion of man's having but
five senses, though, perhaps, there may be justly counted more ;
but either supposition serves equally to my present purpose.

CHAPTER III.

OF IDEAS OF ONE SENSE,

§, 1. Division of simple ideas. — ^The better to conceive the
ideas we receive from sensation, it may not be amiss for us to'
consider them, in reference to the different ways whereby they
make their approaches to our minds, and make themselves per-
ceivable by us.

First, Then, there are some which come into our minds by
one sense only.

Secondly, There are others, that convey themselves into the
mind by more senses than one.

Thirdly, Others that are had from reflection only.

Four tidy, Tiiere are some that make themselves way, and are
suggested to the mind by all the ways of sensation and reflec-
tion.

We shall consider them apart, under these several heads.

First, There are some ideas which have admittance only
through one sense, which is peculiarly adapted to receive them.
Thus light and colours, as white, red, yellow, blue, with their
several degrees or shades, and mixtures, as green, scarlet, pur-
ple, sea green, and the rest, come in only by the eyes : all kind of

76 OF SOLID [TV. Bonk 2.

noises, sounds, and tones, only by the ears : and the several tastes
and smells, by the nose and palate. And if these organs, or the
nerves which are the conduits to convey them from without to
their audience in the brain, the mind's presence-room (as I may
so call it), are any of them so disordered, as not to perform their
functions, they have no postern to be admitted by ; no other way
to bring themselves into view, and be perceived by the under-
standing.

The most considerable of those belonging to the touch, are
heat, and cold, and solidity ; all the rest, consisting almost
wholly in the sensible configuration, as smooth and rough ; or
else more or less firm adhesion of the parts, as hard and soft,
rough and brittle, are obvious enough.

§. 2. I think it will be needless to enumerate all the particu-
lar simple ideas belonging to each sense : nor indeed is it pos-
sible, if we would, there being a great many more of them be-
longino; to most of the senses than we have names for. The va-
riety of smells, which are as many almost, if not more than
species of bodies in the world, do most of them want names.
Sweet and stinking, commonly serve our turn for these ideas ;
which, in effect, is little more than to call them pleasing or dis-
pleasing ; though the smell of a rose and violet, both sweet,
are certainly very distinct ideas. Nor are the different tastes,
that by our palates we receive ideas of, much better provided
with names. Sweet, bitter, sour, harsh, and salt, are almost all
the epithets we have to denominate that numberless variety of
relishes, which are to be found distinct, not only in almost every
sort of creatures, but in the different parts of the same plant,
fruit, or animal. The same may be said of colours and sounds.
I shall, therefore, in the account of simple ideas I am here
giving, content myself to set down only such as are most mate-
rial to our present purpose, or are in themselves less apt to be
taken notice of, though they are very frequently the ingredients
of our complex ideas, amongst which, I think, I may well ac-
count solidity ; which, therefore, I shall treat of in the next
chapter.

CHAPTER IV

OF SOLIDITY.

§.1. We receive this icleafioui ^omcA.— The idea of solidity
we receive by our touch ; and it arises from the resistance which
we find in body, to the entrance of any other body into the place

Ch. 4. OF SOLIDITY. 77

it possesses, till it has left it. There is no idea which we
receive more constantly from sensation, than solidity. Whether
we move or rest, in what posture soever we are, we always
feel something under us, that supports us, and hinders our
further sinking downwards ; and the bodies which we daily han-
dle, make us perceive, that whilst they remain between them,
they do, by an insurmountable force, hinder the approach of the
parts of our hands that press them. That which thus hinders
the approach of two bodies, when they are moved one towards
another, I call solidity. I will not dispute, whether this accep-
tation of the word solid be nearer to its original signification,
than that which mathematicians use it in : it suffices that I
think the common notion of solidity will allow, if not justify,
this use of it ; but if any one think it better to call it " impene-
trability," he has my consent: only I have thought the term
solidity the more proper to express this idea, not only because
of its vulgar use in that sense, but also because it carries some-
thing more of positive in it than impenetrability, which is ne-
gative, and is, perhaps, more a consequence of solidity, than
solidity itself. This, of all other, seems the idea most intimately
connected with, and essential to, body, so as no where else to
be found or imagined, but only in matter. And though our
senses take no notice of it, but in masses of matter, of a bulk
sufficient to cause a sensation in us ; yet the mind, having once
got this idea from such grosser sensible bodies, traces it farther,
and considers it, as well as figure, in the minutest particle of
matter that can exist ; and finds it inseparably inherent in body,
wherever, or however modified.

§. 2. Solidity fills space. — This is the idea which belongs to
body, whereby we conceive it to fill space. The idea of which fill-
ing of space is, that where we imagine any space taken up by a
solid substance, we conceive it so to possess it, that it excludes
all other solid substances ; and will for ever hinder any two
other bodies, that move towards one another in a straight line,
from coming to touch one another, unless it removes from be-
tween them in a line not parallel to that which they move in.
This idea of it, the bodies which we ordinarily handle, suffi-
ciently furnish us with.

§. 3. Distinct from space. — This resistance, whereby it keeps
other bodies out of the space which it possesses, is so great,
that no force, how great soever, can surmount it. All the bodies
in the world, pressing a drop of water on all sides, will never be
able to overcome the resistance which it will make, soft as it
is, to their approaching one another, till it be removed out of
their way : whereby our idea of solidity is distinguished both

T8 OF SOLIDITY. Baokl.

from pure space, which is capable neither of resistance nor mo-
tion ; and from the ordinary idea of hardness. For a man may
conceive two bodies at a distance, so as they may approach one
another, without touching or displacing any solid thing, till their
superficies come to meet : whereby, I think, we have the clear
idea of space without solidity. For (not to go so far as anni-
hilation of any particular body) I ask, whether a man cannot
have the idea of the niotion of one single body alone, without
any other succeeding immediately into its place? I think it is
evident he can : the idea of motion in one body, no more in-
cluding the idea of motion in another, than the idea of a square
figure in one body, includes the idea of a square figure in
another. I do not ask whether bodies do so exist, that the
motion of one body cannot really be without the motion of
another. To determine this either way, is to beg the question
for or against a vacuum. But my question is, whether one
cannot have the idea of one body moved, whilst others are at
rest? And, I think, this no one will deny; if so, then the place
it deserted gives as the idea of pure space, without solidity,
whereinto any other body may enter, without either resistance or
protrusion of any thing. When the sucker in a pump is drawn,
the space it filled in the tube is certainly the same, whether any
body follows the motion of the sucker or no ; nor does it imply
a contradiction, that upon the motion of one body, another, that
is only contiguous to it, should not follow it. The necessity of
such a motion is built only on the supposition, that the wo\-ld is
full ; but not on the distinct ideas of space and solidity ; which
are as different as resistance and not resistance, protrusion and
not protrusion. And that men have ideas of space without a
body, their very disputes about a vacuum plainly demonstrate,
as is showed in another place.

§. 4. From hardness. — Solidity is hereby also differenced
from hardness, in, that solidity consists in repletion, and so an
utter exclusion of other bodies out of the space it possi;esses ;
but hardness, in a firm cohesion of the parts of matter, making
up masses of a sensible bulk, so that the whole does not easily
change its figure. And, indeed, hard and soft are names that
we give to things, only in relation to the constitutions of our
own bodies ; that being generally called hard by us, which will
put us to pain, sooner than change figure by the pressure of any
part of our bodies ; and that, on the contrary, soft, which
changes the situation of its parts upon an easy and unpainful
touch.

But this difficulty of changing the situation of the sensible
parts amongst themselves, or of the figure of the whole, gives

Ch. 4. OF SOLIDITY. 70

no more solidity to the hardest body in the world, than to the
softest; nor is an adamant one jot more solid than water. For
though the two flat sides of two pieces of marble, will more
easily approach each other, between which there is nothing but
water or air, than if there be a diamond between them ; yet it
is not, that the parts of the diamond are more «olid than those
of water, or resist more ; but because the parts of water being
more easily separable from each other, they will, by a side
motion, be more easily removed, and give way to the approach
of the two pieces of marble : but if they could be kept from
making place by that side motion, they would eternally hinder
the approach of these two pieces of marble, as much as
the diamond ; and it would be as impossible, by any force, to
surmount their resistance, as to surmount the resistance of the
parts of a diamond. The softest body in the world will as invin-
cibly resist the coming together of any other two bodies, if it
l)e not put out of the way, but remain between them, as the
hardest that can be found or imagined. He that shall fill a
yielding soft body well with air or water, will quickly find its
resistance ; and he that thinks that nothing but bodies that are
hard can keep his hands from approaching one another, may be
pleased to make a trial with the air inclosed in a foot-ball. The
experiment, I have been told, was made at Florence, with a hollow
globe of gold filled with water, and exactly closed, which farther
shows the solidity of so soft a body as water ; for the golden
globe thus filled, being put into a press, which was driven by
the extreme force of screws, the water made itself way through
the pores of that very close metal, and finding no room for a
nearer approach of its particles within, got to the outside, where
it rose like a dew, and so fell in drops, before the sides of the
globe could be made to yield to the violent compression of
the engine that squeezed it.

§. 5. On solidity depend impulse, resistance, and protrusion.
— By this idea of solidity, is the extension of body distin-
guished from the extension of space. The extension of body
being nothing but the cohesion or continuity of solid, sepa-
rable, moveable parts ; and the extension of space, the conti-
nuity of unsolid, inseparable, and immoveable parts. Upon
the solidity of bodies also depends their mutual impulse, resist-
ance, and protrusion. Of pure space then, and solidity, there
are several (amongst which I confess myself one) who persuade
themselves they have clear and distinct ideas ; and that they
can think on space without any thing in it that resists, or is
protruded by body. This is the idea of pure space, which they
think they have as clear as any idea they can have of the exten-

80 IDEAS OF DIVERS SENSES. Book 1.

sionof body ; the idea of the distance between the opposite parts
of a concave superficies being equally as clear without, as with
the idea of any solid parts between ; and on the other side,
they persuade themselves, that they have, distinct from that of
pure space, the idea of something that fills space, that can be
protruded by the impulse of other bodies, or resist their motion.
If there be others that have not these two ideas distinct, but
confound them, and make but one of them, I know not how
men, who have the same idea, under different names, or different
ideas under the same name, can, in that case, talk with one
another; any more than a man, who, not being blind or deaf, has
distinct ideas of the colour of scarlet, and the sound of a
trumpet, could discourse concerning scarlet colour with the
blind man I mention in another place, who fancied that the idea
of scarlet was like the sound of a trumpet.

§. 6. What it is. — If any one asks me what this solidity is ?
I send him to his senses to inform him ; let him put a flint or a
foot-ball between his hands, and then endeavour to join them,
and he will know. If he thinks this not a sufficient explication
of solidity, what it is, and wherein it consists ; I promise to
tell him what it is, and whererein it consists, when he tells
me what thinking is, or wherein it consists ; or explains to me
what extension or motion is, which, perhaps, seems much easier.
The simple ideas we have, are such as experience teaches them
us ; but if, beyond that, we endeavour, by words, to make them
clearer in the mind, we shall succeed no better, than if we went
about to clear up the darkness of a blind man's mind by talking ;
and to discourse into him the ideas of light and colours. The
reason of this I shall show in another place.

CHAPTER V.

OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF DIVERS SENSES.

The ideas we get by more than one sense, are of space or ex-
tension, figure, rest, and motion ; for these make perceivable
impressions both on the eyes and touch ; and we can receive
and convey into our minds the ideas of the extension, figure,
motion, and rest of bodies, both by seeing and feeling. But
having occasion to speak more at large of these in another place,
I here onlv enumerate them.

Ck.l. IDEAS OF SENSATION AND REFLECTION. 81
CHAPTER VI.

OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF REFLECTION.

§. 1. Simple ideas are the operations of the mind ahoiit its
other ideas.— The mind receiving the ideas, mentioned in the
fore-going chapters, from Avithout, when it turns its view inward
upon itself, and observes its own actions about those ideas
it has, takes from thence other ideas, which are as capable to be
the objects of its contemplation, as any of those it received
from foreign things.

§. 2. The idea of perception, and idea of icillhuj, loe have
from reflection. — The two great and principal actions of the
mind, which are most frequently considered, and which are so
frequent, that every one that pleases, may take notice of them
in himself, are these two : perception, or thinking ; and vo-
lition, or willing. The power of thinking is called the under-
standing, and the power of volition is called the will; and
these two powers or abilities in the mind, are denominated
faculties. Of some of the modes of these simple ideas of
reflection, such as are remembrance, discerning, reasoning,
judging, knowledge, faith, 8cc., I shall have occasion to speak
hereafter.

CHAPTER VII.

OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF BOTH SENSATION AND REFLECTION,

§. 1. Pleasure and pain. — There be other simple ideas, which
convey themselves into the mind, by all the ways of sensation
and reflection, viz., pleasure or delight ; and its opposite, pain
or uneasiness ; power ; existence ; unity.

§. 2. Delight, or uneasiness, one or other of them join them-
selves to almost all our ideas, both of sensation and reflection ;
and there is scarce any affection of our senses from without,
any retired thought of our mind within, which is not able to
produce in us pleasure or pain. By pleasure and pain, I would
be xmderstood to signify whatsoever delights or molests us most ;
whether it arises from the thoughts of our minds, or any thing
operating on our bodies. For whether we call it satisfaction,
delight, pleasure, happiness, &.c. on the one side; or uneasiness,
trouble, pain, torment, anguish, misery, Sec. on the other, they
are still but different degrees of the same thing, and belong to

G

^'•^ IDEAS OF Bookl.

the ideas of pleasure and pain, delight or uneasiness ; which are
the names I shall most commonly use for those two sorts of
ideas.

§. 3. The infinitely wise Author of our being, having given us
the power over several parts of our bodies, to move or keep them
at rest, as we think fit ; and also, by the motion of them, to move
ourselves and our contiguous bodies, in which consists all the
actions of our body ; having also given a power to our minds, in
several instances, to choose, amongst its ideas, which it will think
on, and to pursue the enquiry of this or that subject, with con-
sideration and attention, to excite us to these actions of thinking
and motion, that we are capable of; has been pleased to join to
several thoughts, and several sensations, a perception of delight.
If this were wholly separated from all our outward sensations,
and inward thoughts, we should have no reason to prefer one
thought or action to another ; negligence to attention, or motion
to rest. And so we should neither stir our bodies, nor employ
our minds ; but let our thoughts (if I may so call it) run adrift,
without any direction or design ; and suifer the ideas of our
minds, like unregarded shadows, to make their appearances there,
as it happened, without attending to them. In which state,
man, however furnished with the faculties of understanding and
will, would be a very idle inactive creature, and pass his time
only in a lazy lethargic dream. It has, therefore, pleased our
wise Creator, to annex to several objects, and the ideas which
we receive from them, as also to several of our thoughts, a con-
comitant pleasure, and that in several objects, to several degrees ;
that those faculties which he had endowed us with, might not
remain wholly idle and unemployed by us.

§. 4. Pain has the same efficacy and use to set us on work,
that pleasure has, we being as ready to employ our faculties to
avoid that, as to pursue this ; only this is worth our consider-
ation, " that pain is often produced by the same objects and
ideas that produce pleasure in us." This, their near conjunction,
which makes us often feel pain in the sensations where we
expected pleasure, gives us new occasion of admiring the wisdom
and goodness of our Maker, who, designing the preservation of
our being, has annexed pain to the application of many things
to our bodies, to warn us of the harm that they wall do, and as
advices to withdraw from them. But He, not designing our
preservation barely, but the preservation of every part and organ
in its perfection, hath, in many cases, annexed pain to those
very ideas which delight us. Thus, heat, that is very agreeable
to us in one degree, by a little greater increase of it, proves no
ordinary torment ; and the most pleasant of all sensible objects.

Ch. 7. SENSATION AND REFLECTION. 83

light itself, if there be too much of it, if increased beyond a
due proportion to our eyes, causes a very painful sensation;
which is wisely and favourably so ordered by nature, that when
any object does, by the vehemency of its operation, disorder the
instruments of sensation, whose structures cannot but be very
nice and delicate, we might, by the pain, be warned to withdraw,
before the organ be quite put out of order, and so be unfitted
for its proper function for the future. The consideration of
those objects that produce it, may well persuade us, that this is
the end or use of pain. For though great light be insufferable
to our eyes, yet the highest degree of darkness does not at all
disease them ; because that causing no disorderly motion in it,
leaves that curious organ unarmed, in its natural state. But
yet excess of cold, as well as heat, pains us ; because it is
equally destructive to that temper, which is necessary to the
preservation of life, and the exercise of the several functions
of the body, and which consists in a moderate degree of warmth,
or, if you please, a motion of the insensible parts of our bodies,
confined within certain bounds.

§. 5. Beyond all this, we may find another reason why God
hath scattered up and down several degrees of pleasure and
pain in all the things that environ and affect us, and blended
them togetheT in almost all that our thoughts and senses
have to de with ; that we finding imperfection, dissatisfaction,
and want of complete happiness, in all the enjoyments which the
creatures can afford us, might be led to seek it in the enjoyment
of Him, " with whom there is fullness of joy, and at whose right
hand are pleasures for evermore."

§- 6. Pleasure mid pain. — Though what I have here said
may not, perhaps, make the ideas of pleasure and pain clearer
to us than our own experience does, which is the only way that w^e
are capable of having them ; yet the consideration of the
reason why they are annexed to so many other ideas, serving to
give us due sentiments of the wisdom and goodness of the
Sovereign Disposer of all things, may not be unsuitable to the
main end of these enquiries ; the knowledge and veneration of
Him, being the chief end of all our thoughts, and the proper
business of all understandings.

§. 7. Existence and unity. — Existence and unity are two
other ideas, that are suggested to the understanding by every
object without, and every idea within. When ideas are in our
minds, we consider them as being actually there, as well as we
consider things to be actually without us ; which is, that they
exist, or have existence; and whatever we can consider as

G 2

84 IDEAS OF SENSATION AND REFLECTION. Book 2.

one thing, whether a real being, or idea, suggests to the under-
standing the idea of unity.

§s. 8. Power. — Power also is another of those simple ideas
which we receive from sensation and reflection. For observing
in ourselves, that we can, at pleasure, move several parts of our
bodies which were at rest ; the effects, also, that natural bodies
are able to produce in one another, occurring every moment to
our senses, we both these ways get the idea of power.

§. 9. Succession. — ^Besides these, there is another idea, which
though suggested by our senses, yet is more constantly offered
to us by what passes in our minds ; and that is the idea of
succession. For if we look immediately into ourselves, and
reflect on what is observable there, we shall find our ideas always
whilst we are awake, or have any thought, passing in train, one
going, and another coming, without intermission.

§. 10. Simple ideas the materials of all our knowledge. —
These, if they are not all, are, at least, (as I think) the most
considerable of those simple ideas which the mind has, and out
of which is made all its other knowledge ; all which it receives
only by the two fore-mentioned ways of sensation and reflection.

Nor let any one think these too narrow bounds for the capa-
cious mind of man to expatiate in, which takes its flight farther
than the stars, and cannot be confined by the limits of the
world ; that extends its thoughts often, even beyond the utmost
expansion of matter; and makes excursions into that incom-
prehensible inane. I grant all this, but desire any one to assign
any simple idea, which is not received from one of those inlets
before-mentioned, or any complex idea not made out of those
simple ones. Nor will it be so strange to think these few
simple ideas sufficient to employ the quickest thought, or largest
capacity ; and to furnish the materials of all that various know-
ledge, and more various fancies and opinions of all mankind, if
we consider how many words may be made out of the various
composition of twenty-four letters; or if, going one step farther,
we will but reflect on the variety of combinations that may be
made with barely one of the above-mentioned ideas, viz., number,
whose stock is inexhaustible, and truly infinite ; and what a
large and immense field doth extension alone afford the mathe-
maticians ?

Ch. 8. SIMPLE IDEAS. 80

CHAPTER VIII.

SOME FARTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING OUR SIMPLE

IDEAS.

§. 1. Positive ideas from privative causes. — Concerning the
simple idea of sensation, it is to be considered, that whatsoever
is so constituted in nature, as to be able, by affecting our senses,
to cause any perception in the mind, doth hereby produce in the
understanding a simple idea ; which, whatever be the external
cause of it, when it comes to be taken notice of by our discern-
ing faculty, it is by the mind looked on and considered there, to
be a real positive idea in the understanding, as much as any other
whatsoever; though, perhaps, the cause of it be but a privation
of the subject.

§. 2. Thus the ideas of heat and cold, light and darkness,
white and black, motion and rest, are equally clear and positive
ideas in the mind ; though, perhaps, some of the causes which
produce them, are barely privations in those subjects from
whence our senses derive those ideas. These the understanding,
in its view of them, considers all as distinct positive ideas, with-
out taking notice of the causes that produce them ; which is an
enquiry not belonging to the idea, as it is in the understanding,
but to the nature of the things existing without us. These are
two very different things, and carefully to be distinguished ; it
being one thing to perceive and know the idea of white or
black ; and quite another to examine what kind of particles they
must be, and how ranged in the superficies, to make any object
appear white or black.

§. 3. A painter, or dyer, who never enquired into their
causes, hath .the ideas of white and black, and other colours,
as clearly, perfectly, and distinctly in his understanding, and,
perhaps, more distinctly, than the philosopher, who had busied
himself in considering their natures, and thinks he knows how
far either of them is in its cause positive, or privative ; and the
idea of black is no less positive in his mind, than that of white,
however the cause of that colour, in the external object, may be
only a privation.

§. 4. If it were the design of my present undertaking to en-
quire into the natural causes and manner of perception, I should
offer this as a reason, why a privative cause might, in some cases
at least, produce a positive idea ; viz., that all sensation being
produced in us, only by different degrees and modes of motion
in our animal spirits, variously agitated by external objects, th^

g3

86 SIMPLE IDEAS. Book 2.

abatement of any former motion must as necessarily produce a
new sensation, as the variation or increase of it ; and so intro-
duce a new idea, which depends only on a different motion of
the animal spirits in that organ.

§, 5, But whether this be so, or no, I will not here deter-
mine, but appeal to every one's own experience, whether the
shadow of a man, though it consists of nothing but the absence
of lioht (and the more the absence of light is, the more dis-
cernible is the shadow), does not, when a man looks on it, cause
as clear and positive idea in his mind, as ^a man himself,
thouo-h covered over with a clear sun-shine ? and the picture
of a shadow is a positive thing. Indeed, we have negative
names, which stand not directly for positive ideas, but for their
absence, such as insipid, silence, nihil, &c., which words denote
positive ideas ; v. g. taste, sound, being, with a signification of
their absence.

§. 6. Positive ideas from privative causes. — And thus one
may truly be said to see darkness. For supposing a hole, per-
fectly dark, from whence no light is reflected, it is certain one
may see the figure of it, or it may be painted : or whether the
ink I write with makes any other idea, is a question. The pri-
vative causes I have here assigned of positive ideas, are ac-
cording to the common opinion ; but, in truth, it v/ill be hard to
determine, whether there be really any ideas from a privative
cause? till it be determined, " whether rest be any more a priva-
tion than motion ?"

§. 7. Ideas in the mind, qualities in bodies. — To discover the
nature of our ideas the better, and to discourse of them intelli-
gibly, it will be convenient to distinguish them, as they are ideas
or perceptions in our minds ; and as they are modifications of
matter in the bodies that cause such perceptions in us ; that so
we may not think (as perhaps usually is done) "hat they are
exactly the images and resemblances of something inherent in
the subject; most of those of sensation being in the mind no
more the likeness of something existing without us, than the
names that stand for them are the likeness of our ideas, which yet,
upon hearing, they are apt to excite in us.

§. 8. Whatsoev^er the mind perceives in itself, or is the im-
mediate object of perception, thought, or understanding, that
I call idea ; and the power to produce any idea in our mind, I
call quality of th€ subject wherein that power is. Thus a snow-
ball having the power to produce in us the idea of white, cold,
and romid, the powers to produce those ideas in us, as they are
in the snow-ball, I call qualities ; and as they are sensations or
p.irceptions in our understandings, I call them ideas ; which

Ch. 8. WHAT IDEAS RESEMBLANCES. 87

ideas, if I speak of them sometimes, as in the things themselves,
I would be understood to mean those qualities in the objects
which produce them in us.

§. 9. Primary qualities. — Qualities thus considered in bodies,
are, First, such as are utterly inseparable from the body, in what
estate soever it be ; such as, in all the alterations and changes it
suffers, all the force can be used upon it, it constantly keeps ;
and such as sense constantly finds in every particle of matter,
which has bulk enough to be perceived, and the mind finds inse-
parable from every particle of matter, though less than to make
itself singly be perceived by our senses, v. g. take a grain of
wheat, divide it into two parts, each part has still solidity, ex-
tension, figure, and mobility; divide it again, and it retains still
the same qualities ; and so divide it on, till the parts become
insensible, they must retain still each of them all those qualities.
For division (which is all that a mill, or pestel, or any other
body, does upon another, in reducing it to insensible parts) can
never take away either solidity, extension, figure, or mobility,
from any body, but only makes two or more distinct separate
masses of matter, of that which was but one before ; all which
distinct masses, reckoned as so many distinct bodies, after divi-
sion, make a certain number. These I call original or primary
qualities of body, which, I think, we may observe to produce
simple ideas in us, viz., solidity, extension, figure, motion or
rest, and number.

§. 10. Secondary qualities. — Secondly, Such qualities, which, in
truth, are nothing in the objects themselves, but powers to produce
various sensations in us by their primary qualities, i. e. by the bulk,
figure, texture, and motion of their insensible parts, as colours,
sounds, tastes. Sec, these I call secondary qualities. To these
might be added a third sort, which are allowed to be barely powers,
though they are as much real qualities in the subject, as those
which I, to comply with the common way of speaking, call
qualities, but for distinction, secondary qualities. For the power
in fire to produce a new colour or consistency in wax, or clay,
by its primary qualities, is as much a quality in fire, as the
power it has to produce in me a new idea or sensation of warmth
or burning, which I felt not before, by the same primary quali-
ties, viz., the bulk, texture, and motion of its insensible parts.

§. 11. How j)rimory qualities jn'oduce their ideas. — The next
thing to be considered is, how bodies produce ideas in us ; and
that is manifestly by impulse, the only way which we can con-
ceive bodies to operate in.

§. 12. If then external objects be not united to our minds,
when they produce ideas therein, and yet we perceive these ori-

G 4 '

86 PRIMARY QUALITIES. Book 1.

ginal qualities in such of them as singly fall under our senses, it
is evident that some motion must be thence continued by our
nerves or animal spirits, by some parts of our bodies, to the
brain, or the seat of sensation, there to produce in our minds
the particular ideas we have of them. And since the extension,
figure, number, and motion of bodies of an observable bigness,
may be perceived at a distance by the sight, it is evident some
singly imperceptible bodies must come from them to the eyes,
and thereby convey to the brain some motion, which produces
these ideas which we have of them in us.

§. 13. How secondary. — After the same manner that the ideas
of these original qualities are produced in us, we may conceive
that the ideas of secondary qualities, are also produced, viz., by
the operation of insensible particles on our senses. For it being
manifest that there are bodies', and good store of bodies, each
whereof are so small, that we cannot, by any of our senses, dis-
cover either their bulk, figure, or motion, as is evident in the
particles of the air and water, and others extremely smaller than
those, perhaps as much smaller than the particles of air and
water, as the particles of air and water are smaller tlian peas or
hail-stones. Let us suppose at present, that the dift'erent motions
and figures, bulk and number, of such particles, affecting the se-
veral organs of our senses, produce in us those different sensations,
which we have from the colours and smells of bodies, v. g. that
a violet, by the impulse of such insensible particles of matter of
peculiar figures and bulks, and in different degrees and modifi-
cations of their motions, causes the ideas of the blue colour,
and sweet scent, of that flower, to be produced in our minds ; it
being no more impossible to conceive that God should annex
such ideas to such motions, with which they have no simi-
litude, than that he should annex the idea of pain to the mo-
tion of a piece of steel dividing our flesh, with which that idea
hath no resemblance.

§. 14. What I have said concerning colours and smells, may
be understood also of tastes and sounds, and other the like sen-
sible qualities ; which, whatever reality we, by mistake, attribute
to them, are, in truth, nothing in the objects themselves, but
powers to produce various sensations in us, and depend on those
primary qualities, viz., bulk, figure, texture, and motion of parts;
as I have said.

§. 15. Ideas of prhnarij qualities are resemblances ; of secon-
dary, not. — From whence I think it is easy to draw this obser-
vation, that the ideas of primary qualities of bodies, are resem-
blances of them, and their patterns do really exist in the bodies
themselves ; but the ideas produced in us by these secondary
qualities, have no resemblance of them at all. There is nothing

CL a. SECONDARY QUALITIES. 89

like our ideas existing in the bodies themselves. They are in the
bodies we denominate from them, only a power to produce those
sensations in us : and what is sweet, blue, or warm, in idea, is
but the certain bulk, figure, and motion of the insensible parts
in the bodies themselves, which we call so.

§. 16. Flame is denominated hot and light; snow, white
and cold ; and manna, white and sweet, from the ideas they
produce in us ; which qualities are commonly thought to be the
same in those bodies, that those ideas are in us, the one the per-
fect resemblance of the other, as they are in a mirror ; and it
would by most men be judged very extravagant, if one should
say otherwise. And yet he that will consider, that the same fire,
that at one distance produces in us the sensation of warmth,
does, at a nearer approach, produce in us the far different sensa-
tion of pain, ought to bethink himself, what reason he has to
say, that his idea of warmth, which was produced in him by the
fire, is actually in the fire ; and his idea of pain, which the same
fire produced in him the same way, is not in the fire. Why are
whiteness and coldness in snow, and pain not, when it produces
the one and the other idea in us ; and can do neither, but by tiie
bulk, figure, number, and motion of its solid parts ?

§. 17. The particular bulk, number, figure, and motion of
the parts of fire, or snow, are really in them, whether any one's
senses perceive them or no ; and, therefore, they may be called
real qualities, because they really exist in those bodies. But
light, heat, whiteness, or coldness, are no more really in them,
than sickness or pain is in manna. Take away the sensation of
them ; let not the eyes see light or colours, nor the ears hear
sounds ; let the palate not taste, nor the nose smell ; and all co-
lours, tastes, odours, and sounds, as they are such particular
ideas, vanish and cease, and are reduced to their causes, i. e.
bulk, figure, and motion of parts.

§. 18. A piece of manna of a sensible bulk, is able to pro-
duce in us the idea of a round or square figure; and by being-
removed from one place to another, the idea of motion. This
idea of motion represents it, as it really is, in the manna moving :
a circle or square are the same, whether in idea or existence,
in the mind, or in the manna : and this, both motion and figure,
are really in the manna, whether we take notice of them, or no :
this every body is ready to agree to. Besides, manna, by the
bulk, figure, texture, and motion of its parts, has a power to
produce the sensations of sickness, and sometimes of acute pains
or gripings in us. That these ideas of sickness and pain, are not
in the manna, but efiects of its operations on us, and are no-
where when we feel them not : this also every one readily agrees

90 SECONDARY QUALITIES. Book 2.

to. And yet men are liardly to be brought to think, that
sweetness and whiteness are not really in manna; which are but
the effects of the operations of manna, by the motion, size, and
figure of its particles on the eyes and palate ; as the pain and
sickness caused by manna, are confessedly nothing but the
effects of its operations on the stomach and guts, by the size,
motion, and figure of its insensible parts ; (for by nothing else can
a body operate, as has been proved) as if it could not operate
on the eyes and palate, and thereby produce in the mind parti-
cular distinct ideas, which in itself it has not, as well as we allow
it can operate on the guts and stomach, and thereby produce
distinct ideas, which in itself, it has not. These ideas being all
effects of the operations of manna, on several parts of our bodies,
by the size, figure, number, and motion of its parts, why those pro-
duced by the eyes and palate, should rather be thought to be
really in the manna, than those produced by the stomach and guts;
or why the pain and sickness, ideas that are the effect of manna,
should be thought to be no where, when they are not felt ; and
yet the sweetness and whiteness, effects of the same manna,
on other parts of the body, by ways equally as unknown, should
be thought to exist in the manna, when they are not seen nor
tasted, would need some reason to explain,

§.19. Ideas of pr 'unary qiialities, are resemhlances ; of se-
condary, not. — Let us consider the red and white colours in
porphyry : hinder light but from striking on it, and its colours
vanish ; it no longer produces any such ideas in us. Upon the
return of light, it produces these appearances on us again. Can
any one think any real alterations are made in the porphyry, by
the presence or absence of light ; and that those ideas of white-
ness and redness, are really in porphyry in the light, when it is
plain it has no colour in the dark ? it has, indeed, such a con-
figuration of particles, both night and day, as are apt, by the
rays of light rebounding from some parts of that hard stone, to
produce in us the idea of redness, and from others, the idea of
whiteness : but whiteness or redness are not in it at any time,
but such a texture that hath the power to produce such a
sensation in us.

§. 20. Pound an almond, and the clear white colour will be
altered into a dirty one, and the sweet taste, into an oily one.
What real alteration can the beating of the pestle make in any
body, but an alteration of the texture of it?

§. 21. Ideas being thus distinguished and understood, we
may be able to give an account, how the same water, at the
same time, may produce the idea of cold by one hand, and
of heat by the other : whereas it is impossible, that the same

Ch. 8. SECONDARY QUALITIES. 91

water, if those ideas were really in it, should, at the same time,
be both hot and cold For if we imagine warmth, as it is in our
hands, to be nothing but a certain sort and degree of motion in
the minute particles of our nerves, or animal spirits, we may
understand how it is possible, that the same water may, at the
same time, produce the sensations of heat in one hand, and cold
in the other ; which yet figure never does, that never producing
the idea of a square by one hand, which has produced the idea of
a globe by another. But if the sensation of heat and cold be
nothing; but the increase or diminution of the motion of the
minute parts of our bodies, caused by the corpuscles of any
other body, it is easy to be understood, that if that motion be
greater in one hand than in the other ; if a body be applied to
the two hands, which has in its minute particles a greater
motion than in those of one of the hands, and a less than in
those of the other, it will increase the motion of the one hand,
and lessen it in the other, and so cause the different sensations
of heat and cold that depend thereon.

§. 22. I have, in what just goes before, been engaged in
physical enquiries a little farther than perhaps I intended. But
it being necessary to make the nature of sensation a little
understood, and to make the difference between the qualities in
bodies, and the ideas produced by them in the mind, to be
distinctly conceived, without which it were impossible to dis-
course intelligibly of them ; I hope I shall be pardoned this
little excursion into natural philosophy, it being necessary in
our present enquiry, to distinguish the primary and real qualities
of bodies, which are always in them, (viz. solidity, extension,
figure, number, and motion or rest; and are sometimes perceived
by us, viz. when the bodies they are in, are big enough singly to
be discerned from those secondary and imputed qualities, which
are but the powers of several combinations of those primary ones,
when they operate without being distinctly discerned) whereby
we also may come to know what ideas are, and what are not
resemblances of something really existing in the bodies we
denominate from them.

§. 23. Three sorts of qualities in bodies. — The qualities then
that are in bodies, rightly considered, are of three sorts.

First, The bulk, figure, number, situation, and motion or rest
of their solid parts ; those are in them, whether we perceive
them or no ; and when they are of that size, that we can
discover them, we have by these an idea of the thinsr, as it is
m Itself; as is plain in artificial things. These I call primary
qualities.

Secondbj, The power that is in any body, by reason of its

02 SECONDARY QUALITIES. Bonk'l.

insensible primary qualities, to operate after a peculiar manner
on any of our senses, and thereby produce in us the different
ideas of several colours, sounds, smells, tastes, &c. These are
usually called sensible qualities.

Thirdly, The power that is in any body, by reason of the
particular constitution of its primary qualities, to make such a
change in the bulk, figure, texture, and motion of another body,
as to make it operate on our senses, differently from what it did
before. Thus the sun has a power to make wax white ; and fire,
to make lead fluid. These are usually called powers.

The first of these, as has been said, I think, may be properly
called real, original, or primary qualities, because they are in
the things themselves,^ whether they are perceived or no ; and
upon their different modifications it is that the secondary
qualities depend.

The other two are only powers to act differently upon other
things, which powers result from the different modifications of
those primary qualities.

§. 24. The first are resemblances. The second thought resem-
blances, hut are not. The third neither are, nor are thought so.
— But though the two latter sorts of qualities are powers barely,
and nothing but powers, relating to several other bodies, and
resulting from the difierent modifications of the original quali-
ties ; yet they are generally otherwise thought of. For the
second sort, viz. the powers to produce several ideas in us by
our senses, are looked upon as real qualities in the things thus
affecting us : but the third sort are called and esteemed barely
powers, V. g. the idea of heat or light, which we receive by our
eyes, or touch, from the sun, are commonly thought real qualities,
existing in the sun, and something more than mere powers in it.
But when we consider the sun, in reference to wax, which it
melts or blanches, we look upon the wdiiteness and softness
produced in the wax, not as qualities in the sun, but effects
produced by powers in it : whereas, if rightly considered, these
qualities of light and warmth, which are perceptions in me when
I am warmed or enlightened by the sun, are no otherwise in the
sun, than the changes made in the wax, when it is blanched or
melted, are in the sun : they are all of them equally powers in
the sun, depending on its primary qualities ; whereby it is able,
in the one case, so to alter the bulk, figure, texture, or motion
of some of the insensible parts of my eyes or hands, as thereby
to produce in me the idea of light or heat ; and in the other, it
is able so to alter the bulk, figure, texture, or motion of the
insensible parts of the wax, as to make them fit to produce in
me the distinct ideas of white and fluid.

Ch. 8. SECONDARY QUALITIES. 93

§. 25. The reason, " why the one are ordinarily taken for
real qualities, and the other only for bare powers," seems to be,
because the ideas we have of distinct colours, sounds, 8cc. con-
taining nothing at all in them of bulk, figure, or motion, we are
not apt to think them the effects of these primary qualities, which
appear not to our senses, to operate in their production; and
with which they have not any apparent congruity, or conceivable
connection. Hence it is, that we are so forward to imagine, that
those ideas are the resemblances of something really existing in
the objects themselves: since sensation discovers nothing of
bulk, figure, or motion of parts in their production ; nor can
reason show how bodies, by their bulk, figure, and motion, should
produce in the mind the ideas of blue or yellow, &c. But in the
other case, in the operations of bodies changing the qualities
one of another, we plainly discover that the quality produced
hath commonly no resemblance with any thing in the thing pro-
ducing it; wherefore we look on it as bare effect of power.
For though receiving the idea of heat or light from the sun,
we are apt to think it is a perception and resemblance of such a
quality in the sun ; yet when we see wax, or a fair face, receive
change of colour from the sun, we cannot imagine that to be the
reception or resemblance of any thing in the sun, because we
find not those different colours in the sun itself. For our senses
being able to observe a likeness or unlikeness of sensible quali-
ties in two different external objects, we forwardly enough
conclude the production of any sensible quality in any subject,
to be an effect of bare power, and not the communication of any
quality which was really in the efficient, when we find no such
sensible quality in the thing that produced it. But our senses
not being able to discover any unlikeness between the idea pro-
duced in us, and the quality of the object producing it, we are
apt to imagine that our ideas are resemblances of something in
the objects, and not the effects of certain powers, placed in the
modification of their primary qualities, with which primary
qualities the ideas produced in us have no resemblance.

§. 26. Secondary qualities two-fold; first, immediately per-
ceivable ; secondly, mediately perceivable. — To conclude : beside
those before-mentioned primary qualities in bodies, viz. bulk,
figure, extension, number, and motion of their solid parts ; all
the rest, whereby we take notice of bodies, and distinguish
them one from another, are nothing else but several powers in
them, depending on those primary qualities; whereby they are
fitted, either by immediately operating on our bodies, to produce
several different ideas in us ; or else by operating on other
bodies, so to change their primary qualities, as to render

94 PERCEPTION. Book 2.

them capable of producing ideas in us, different from what
before they did. The former of these, I think, may be called
secondary qualities, immediately perceivable : the latter, se-
condary qualities, mediately perceivable.

CHAPTER IX.

OF PERCEPTION

§.1. It is the first simple idea of reflection. — Perception, as
it is the first faculty of the mind, exercised about our ideas ; so
it is the first and simplest idea we have from reflection, and is
by some called thinking in general. Though thinking, in the
propriety of the English tongue, signifies that sort of operation
in the mind about its ideas, wherein the mind is active ; where
it, with some degree of voluntary attention, considers any thing.
For in bare naked perception, the mind is, for the most part,
only passive ; and what it perceives, it cannot avoid perceiving.

§. 2. Perception is only when the mind receives the impression.
— What perception is, every one will know better by reflecting
on what he does himself, what he sees, hears, feels, &c., or
thinks, than by any discourse of mine. Whoever reflects on
what passes in his own mind, cannot miss it : and if he does not
reflect, all the words in the world cannot make him have any
notion of it.

§. 3. This is certain, that whatever alterations are made in
the body, if they reach not the mind ; whatever impressions are
made on the outward parts, if they are not taken notice of
within, there is no perception. Fire may burn our bodies with
no other effect than it does a billet, unless the motion be con-
tinued to the brain, and there the sense of heat, or idea of pain,
be produced in the mind, wherein consists actual perception.

§. 4. How often may a man observe in himself, that whilst
his mind is intently employed in the contemplation of some
objects, and curiously surveying some ideas that are there, it
takes no notice of impressions of sounding bodies, made upon
the organ of hearing, with the same alteration that uses to be
for the producing the idea of sound ? A sufficient impulse there
may be on the organ ; but it not reaching the observation of the
mind, there follows no perception : and though the motion that
uses to produce the idea of sound, be made in the ear, yet no
sound is heard. Want of sensation, in this case, is not through
any defect in the organ, or that the man's ears are less affected

Ch. 9. PERCEPTION. 95

than at other times, when he does hear : but that which uses to
produce the idea, though conveyed in by the usual organ, not
being taken notice of in the understanding, and so imprinting
no idea in the mind, there follows no sensation. So that
wherever there is sense, or perception, there some idea is actually
produced, and present, in the understanding.

i^. 5. Children, though they have ideas in the womb, have none
innate. — Therefore, I doubt not but children, by the exercise of
their senses about objects that affect them in the womb, receive
some few ideas before they are born, as the unavoidable effects
either of the bodies that environ them, or else of those wants
or diseases they suffer ; amongst which (if one may conjecture
concerning things not very capable of examination) I think the
ideas of hunger and warmth, are two; which, probably, are
some of the first that children have, and which they scarce ever
part with again.

§. 6. But though it be reasonable to imagine that children
receive some ideas before they come into the world, yet those
simple ideas are far from those innate principles which some
contend for, and we, above, have rejected. These, here men-
tioned, being the effects of sensation, are only from some affec-
tions of the body, which happen to them there, and so depend
on something exterior to the mind ; no otherwise differing in
their manner of production from other ideas derived from sense,
but only in the precedency of time ; whereas, those innate prin-
ciples are supposed to be quite of another nature ; not coming into
the mind by any accidental alterations in, or operations on, the
body ; but, as it were, original characters impressed upon it in
the very first moment of its being and constitution.

§. 7. Which ideas first, is not evident. — As there are some
ideas, which we may reasonably suppose may be introduced into
the minds of children in the womb, subservient to the neces-
sities of their life and being there ; so, after they are born, those
ideas are the earliest imprinted, which happen to be the sensible
qualities which first occur to them; amongst which, light is not
the least considerable, nor of the weakest efficacy. And how
covetous the mind is, to be furnished with all such ideas as
have no pain accompanying them, may be a little guessed, by what
is observable '\rt children new born, who always turn their eyes
to that part from whence the light comes, lay them how you
please. But the ideas that are most familiar at first, being
various, according to the divers circumstances of children's first
entertainment in the world, the order wherein the several ideas
come at first into the mind, is very various, and uncertain also ;
neither is it much material to know it.

JJG PERCEPTION. Book 2.

§. 8. Ideas of sensation often changed by the judgment. — We
are farther to consider concerning perception, that the ideas we
receive by sensation are often, in grown people, altered by the
judgment, without our taking notice of it. When we set before
our eyes a round globe, of any uniform colour, v. g., gold, ala-
baster, or jet, it is certain that the idea thereby imprinted in
our mind, is of a fiat circle, variously shadowed, with several
degrees of light and brightness coming to our eyes. But we
havino-, by use, been accustomed to perceive what kind of
appearance convex bodies are wont to make in us ; what alter-
ations are made in the reflections of light, by the difference of
the sensible figures of bodies, the judgment presently, by an
habitual custom, alters the appearances into their causes ; so
that from that, which is truly variety of shadow or colour, col-
lecting the figure, it makes it pass for a mark of figure, and
frames to itself the perception of a convex figure, and an uni-
form colour ; when the idea we receive from thence, is only a
plane, variously coloured ; as is evident in painting. To which
purpose I shall here insert a problem of that very ingenious and
studious promoter of real knowledge, the learned and worthy
Mr. Molineux, w^hich he was pleased to send me in a letter some
months since ; and it is this: "Suppose a man born blind, and
now adult, and taught by his touch to distinguish between a
cube and a sphere of the same metal, and nighly of the same
bigness, so as to tell, when he felt one and the other, which is
the cube, which the sphere. Suppose then the cube and sphere
placed on a table, and the blind man to made to see ; qusere.
Whether by his sight, before he touched them, he could now
distinguish, and tell, which is the globe, which the cube?" To
which the acute and judicious proposer answers : "Not. For
though he has obtained the experience of, how a globe, how a
cube, affects his touch ; yet he has not yet attained the expe-
rience, that what affects his touch so or so, must aflTect his sight
so or so ; or that a protuberant angle in the cube, that pressed
his hand unequally, shall appear to his eye as it does in the
cube." I agree with this thinking gentleman, whom I am proud
to call my friend, in his answer to this his problem ; and am of
opinion, that tlie blind man, at first sight, would not be able,
with certainty, to say, which was the globe, which the cube,
whilst he only saw them ; though he could, imerringly, name
them by his touch, and certainly distinguish them by the differ-
ence of their figures felt. This I have set down, and leave with
my reader, as an occasion for him to consider, how much he
may be beholding to experience, improvement, and acquired
notions, where he thinks he had not the least use of, or help

Ch. 9. PERCEPTION. 97

from, them : and the rather, because this observing gentleman
farther adds, that having, upon the occasion of my book, pro-
posed this to divers very ingenious men, he hardly ever met
with one, that at first gave the answer to it, which he thinks
true, till, by hearing his reasons, they were convinced.

§. 9. But this is not, I think, usual in any of our ideas, but
those received by sight; because sight, the most comprehensive
of all our senses, conveying to our minds the ideas of light and
colours, which are peculiar only to that sense ; and also the far
different ideas of space, figure, or motion, the several varieties
whereof change the appearances of its proper object, viz., light
and colours ; we bring ourselves, by use, to judge of the one by the
other. This, in many cases, by a settled habit in things whereof
we have frequent experience, is performed so constantly, aijid so
quick, that we take that for the perception of our sensation,
which is an idea formed by our judgment; so that one, viz., that
of sensation, serves only to excite the other, and is scarce taken
notice of itself; as a man who reads or hears with attention and
understanding, takes little notice of the characters or sounds,
but of the ideas, that are excited in him by them.

§. 10. Nor need we wonder that this is done with so little
notice, if we consider how very quick the actions of the mind
are performed ; for as itself is thought to take up no space, to
have no extension; so its actions seem to require no time, but
many of them seem to be crowded into an instant. I speak this
in comparison to the actions of the body. Any one may easily
observe this in his own thoughts, who will take the pains to
reflect on them. How, as it were in an instant, do our minds,,
with one glance, see all the parts of a demonstration, which may
very well be called a long one, if we consider the time it will
require to put it into words, and step by step show it another ?
Secondly, we shall not be so much surprised that this is done in
us with so little notice, if we consider how the facility which we
get of doing things, by a custom of doing, makes them often
pass in us without our notice. Habits, especially such as are
begun very early, come, at last, to produce actions in us, which
often escape our observation. How frequently do we, in a day,
cover our eyes with our eye-lids, without perceiving that we
are at all in the dark ? Men, that by custom have got the use
of a by-word, do almost in every sentence, pronounce sounds,
which though taken notice of by others, they themselves neither
hear nor observe. And, therefore, it is not so strange that our
mind should often change the idea of its sensation into that of
its judgment, and make one serve only to excite the other,
without our taking notice of it.

98 PERCEPTION. Book 2.

§. 11. Perception puts the difference hetive n animals and
inferior beings. — This faculty of perception seems to me to be
that which puts the distinction betwixt the animal kingdom, and
the inferior parts of nature. For however vegetables have,
many of them, some degrees of motion, and upon the different
application of other bodies to them, do very briskly alter their
figures and motions, and so have obtained the name of sensitive
plants, from a motion, which has some resemblance to that
which in animals follows upon sensation ; yet, I suppose, it is
all bare mechanism ; and no otherwise produced than the turning
of a wild oat beard, by the insinuation of the particles of
moisture; or the shortening of a rope, by the affusion of water. ■
All which is done without any sensation in the subject, or the
having or receiving any ideas.

§. 12. Perception, I believe, is, in some degree, in all sorts
of animals ; though in some, possibly, the avenues provided by
nature for the reception of sensations, are so few, and the per-
ception they are received with, so obscure and dull, that it
comes extremely short of the quickness and variety of sensa-
tion which are in other animals ; but yet it is sufficient for, and
wisely adapted to, the state and condition of that sort of animals
who are thus made : so that the wisdom and goodness of the
Maker plainly appears in all the parts of this stupendous fabric,
and all the several degrees and ranks of creatures in it.

§. 13. We may, I think, from the make of an oyster or
cockle, reasonably conclude that it has not so many, nor so
quick, senses as a man, or several other animals ; nor if it had,
would it, in that state and incapacity of transferring itself from
one place to another, be bettered by them. What good would
sisht and hearing: do to a creature, that cannot move itself to
or from the objects, wherein, at a distance, it perceives good or
evil ? And would not quickness of sensation be an incon-
venience to an animal that must lie still where chance has once
placed it ; and there receive the afflux of colder or warmer,
clean or foul, water, as it happens to come to it ?

§. 14. But yet I cannot but think, there is some small dull
perception, whereby they are distinguished from perfect insen-
sibility. And that this may be so, we have plain instances,
even in mankind itself. Take one in whom decrepid old age has
blotted out the memory of his past knowledge, and clearly
wiped out the ideas his mind was formerly stored with ; and
has, by destroying his sight, hearing, and smell quite, and his
taste to a great degree, stopped up almost all the passages for
new ones to enter ; or, if there be some of the inlets yet half
open, the impressions made are scarce perceived, or not at all

Ch. 10. RETENTION. 99

retained. How far such an one (notwithstanding all that is
boasted of innate principles) is in his knowledge and intellec-
tual faculties, above the condition of a cockle, or an oyster, I
leave to be considered. And if a man passed sixty years
in such a state, as it is possible he might, as well as three days,
I wonder what difference there would have been in any in-
tellectual perfections, between him and the lowest degree of
animals.

§. 15. Pei'ception the inlet of knoicledge. — Perception then
being the first step and degree towards knowledge, and the
inlet of all the materials of it, the fewer senses any man, as
well as any other creature, hath ; and the fewer and duller the
impressions are, that are made by them, and the 'duller faculties
are, that are employed about them, the more remote are they
from that knowledge which is to be found in some men. But this
being in great variety of degrees (as may be perceived amongst
men), cannot certainly be discovered in the several species of
animals, much less in their particular individuals. It suffices
me only to have remarked here, that perception is the first ope-
ration of all our intellectual faculties, and the inlet of all know-
ledge in our minds. And I am apt, too, to imagine, that it is per-
ception, in the lowest degree of it, which puts the boundaries
between animals and the inferior ranks of creatures. But this
I mention only as my conjecture, by the by, it being indifferent
to the matter in hand, which way the learned sha|l determine
of it.

CHAPTER X.

OF RETENTION.

§. 1. Contemplation. — The next faculty of the mind, whereby
it makes a farther progress towards knowledge, is that which I
call retention, or the keeping of those simple ideas, which, from
sensation or reflection, it hath received. This is done two ways :
first, by keeping the idea, which is brought into it, for some
time actually in view, which is called contemplation.

§. 2. Memory. — The other way of retention, is the power to
revive again in our minds those ideas, which, after imprinting,
have disappeared, or have been, as it were, laid aside out of sight ;
and that we do, when we conceive heat or light, yellow or
sweet, the object being removed. This is memory, which is, as
it were, the storehouse of our ideas. For the narrow mind of
man, not being capable of having many ideas under view and
consideration at once, it was necessary to have a repository, to

H 2

100 RETENTION. Book 2.

lay up those ideas, which, at another time, it might have use of.
But our ideas being nothing but actual perceptions in the mind,
which cease to be any thing, when there is no perception of
them, this laying up of our ideas in the repository of the me-
mory, signifies no more than this, that the mind has a power, in
many cases, to revive perceptions which it has once had, with
this additional perception annexed to them, that it has had them
before. And in this sense it is, that our ideas are said to be in
our memories, when, indeed, they are actually no where, but only
there is an ability in the mind, when it will, to revive them again,
and, as it were, paint them anew on itself, though some with
more, some with less, difficulty; some more lively, and others
more obscurely. And thus it is, by the assistance of this fa-
culty, that we are to have all those ideas in our under-
standings, which though we do not actually contemplate, yet we
can bring in sight, and make appear again, and be the objects
of our thoughts, without the help of those sensible qualities
which first imprinted them there.

§. 3. Attention, repetition, pleasure, and pain, fix ideas. —
Attention and repetition help much to the fixing any ideas in
the memory ; but those which naturally at first make the deepest
and most lasting impressions, are those which are accompanied
with pleasure or pain. The great business of the senses being
to make us take notice of what hurts or advantages the body, it
is wisely ordered by nature (as has been shown) that pain
should accompany the reception of several ideas ; which, sup-
plying the place of consideration and reasoning in children, and
acting quicker than consideration in grown men, makes both
the young and old avoid painful objects, with that haste which
is necessary for their preservation ; and, in both, settles in the
memory a caution for the future.

§. 4. Ideas fade in the memory. — Concerning the several
degrees of lasting, wherewith ideas are imprinted on the memory,
we may observe, that some of them have been produced in
the understanding, by an object affecting the senses once only,
and no more than once ; others, that have more than once
offered themselves to the senses, have yet been little taken
notice of; the mind, either heedless, as in children, or otherwise
employed, as in men, intent only on one thing, not setting the
stamp deep into itself. And in some, where they are set on with
care and repeated impressions, either through the temper of the
body, or some other fault, the memory is very weak ; in all
these cases, ideas in the mind quickly fade, and often vanish
quite out of the understanding, leaving no more footsteps, or
remaining characters of themselves, than shadows do flying

Ch. 10. RETENTION.

over fields of corn ; and the mind is as void of them, as if they
had never been there.

§. 5. Thus, many of those ideas which were produced in the
minds of children, in the beginning of their sensation (some of
which, perhaps, as of some pleasures and pains, were before they
were born, and others in their infancy), if, in the future course
of their lives, they are not repeated again, are quite lost, without
the least glimpse remaining of them. This may be observed in
those, who, by some mischance, have lost their sight when they
were very young, in whom the ideas of colours, having been
but slightly taken notice of, and ceasing to be repeated, do
quite wear out ; so that some years after, there is no more notion
nor memory of colours left in their minds, than in those of
people born blind. The memory of some men, it is true, is very
tenacious, even to a miracle ; but yet there seems to be a con-
stant decay of all our ideas, even of those which are struck
deepest, and in minds the most retentive ; so that if they be not
sometimes renewed by repeated exercise of the senses, or reflec-
tion on those kind of objects which, at first, occasioned them,
the print wears out, and, at last, there remains nothing to be
seen. Thus the ideas, as well as children, of our youth, often
die before us : and our minds represent to us those tombs to
which we are approaching ; where, though the brass and marble
remain, yet the inscriptions are effaced by time, and the imagery
moulders away. The pictures drawn in our minds are laid in
fading colours ; and if not sometimes refreshed, vanish and
disappear. How much the constitution of our bodies, and the
make of our animal spirits, are concerned in this, and whether
the temper of the brain make this difference, that in some it
retains the characters drawn on it like marble, in others, like
freestone ; and in others, little better than sand, I shall not here
enquire : though it may seem probable, that the constitution of
the body does sometimes influence the memory ; since we often-
times find a disease quite strip the mind of all its ideas, and the
flames of a fever, in a few days, calcine all those images to dust
and confusion, which seemed to be as lasting, as if graved in
marble.

§. 6. Constantly repeated ideas can scarce he lost. — But con-
cerning the ideas themselves, it is easy to remark, that those
that are oftenest refreshed (amongst which are those that are
conveyed into the mind by more ways than one) by a frequent
return of the objects or actions that produced them, fix them-
selves best in the memory, and remain clearest and longest
there ; and, therefore, those which are of the original qualities
of bodies, viz., solidity, extension, figure, motion, and rest ; and

H 3

102 RETENTION. Booh 2.

those that almost constantly affect our bodies, as heat and
cold; and those which are the affections of all kinds' of beingsj^
as existence, duration, and number, which almost every object
that affects our senses, every thought which employs our minds,
bring along with them ; these, I say, and the like ideas, are
seldom quite lost, while the mind retains any ideas at all.

§, 7. In remembering, the mind is often active. — In this
secondary perception, as I may so call it, or viewing again the
ideas, that are lodged in the memory, the mind is oftentimes
more than barely passive, the appearance of those dormant
pictures depending sometimes on the will. The mind very often
sets itself on work in search of some hidden idea, and turns, as
it we%, the eye of the soul upon it; though sometimes toa they
start up in our minds of their own accord, and offer themselves
to. the understanding ; and very often are roused and tumbled
out of their dark cells, into open day -light, by turbulent
and tempestuous passion ; our affections bringing ideas to our
memory, which had otherwise lain quiet and unregarded. This
fiirther is to be observed, concerning ideas lodged in the'me'fnoryi*
and upon occasion revived by the mind, that they a:r6 not only ■
(as the word revive imports) none of them new ones ; but also
that the mind takes notice of them, as of a former impressiofl,'^
and renews its acquaintance with them, as \vith ideas it had
known before. So that though ideas formerly imprinted, are
not all constantly in view, yet in remembrance they are
constantly known to be such as have been formerly imprinted,
i. e. in view, and taken notice of before, by the understanding. ' ■'

^. 8. Txoo defects in the memory, oblivion and slowness. — Me- J,
mory, in an intellectual creature, is necessary in the next degree
to perception. It is of so great moment, that where it is wanting,
all the rest of our faculties are in a great measure useless:-
and we, in our thoughts, reasonings, and knowledge, could not^
proceed beyond present objects, were it not for the^ assistance ^
of our memories, wherein there may be two defects. ■ f

First, That it loses the idea quite, and so far it produce^S^^
perfect ignorance. For since we can know nothing farther than
we have the idea of it, when that is gone, we are in perfect
ignorance.

Secondly, That it moves slowly, and retrieves not the ideas that^
it has, and are laid up in store, quick enough to serve the mind
upon occasion. This, if it be to a great degree, is stupidity :
and he, who through this default in his memory, has not the
ideas that are really preserved there ready at hand, when need
and occasion calls for them, were almost as good be without
them quite, since they serve him to little purpose. The dull

Ch. 10. RETENTION. 108

man, who loses the opportunity, while he is seeking in his mind
for those ideas that should serve his turn, is not much more
happy in his knowledge, than one that is perfectly ignorant.
It is the business, therefore, of the memory to furnish the
mind with those dormant ideas which it has present occasion for;
in the having them ready at hand, on all occasions, consists that
which we call invention, fancy, and quickness of parts.

§. 9. These are defects we may observe in the memory of
one man compared with another. There is another defect which
we may conceive to be in the memory of man in general, com-
pared with some superior created intellectual beings, which in
this faculty may so far excel man, that they may have constantly
in view the whole scene of all their former actions, wherein no
one of the thoughts they have ever had, may slip out of their
sight. The Omniscience of God, who knows all things, past,
present, and to come, and to whom the thoughts of men's hearts
always lie open, may satisfy us of the possibility of this. For
who can doubt, but God may communicate to those glorious
spirits, his immediate attendants, any of his perfections, in
what proportion he pleases, as far as created finite beings can
be capable ? It is reported of that prodigy of parts. Monsieur
Pascal, that till the decay of his health had impaired his memory,
he forgot nothing of what he had done, read, or thought, in any
part of his rational age. This is a privilege so little known to
most men, that it seems almost incredible to those, who, after
the ordinary way, measure all others by themselves : but yet,
when considered, may help us to enlarge our thoughts towards
greater perfection of it in superior ranks of spirits. For this of
M. Pascal, was still with the narrowness that human minds
are confined to here, of having great variety of ideas only by
succession, not all at once : whereas the several degrees of
angels may probably have larger views, and some of them be
endowed with capacities able to retain together, and constantly
set before them, as in one picture, all their past knowledge at
once. This, we may conceive, would be no small advantage to
the knowledge of a thinking man; if all his past thoughts and
reasonings could be always present to him. And, therefore, we
may suppose it one of those ways, wherein the knowledge of
separate spirits may exceedingly surpass ours.

§. 10. Brutes have memory. — This faculty of laying up and
retaining the ideas that are brought into the mind, several other
animals seem to have to a great degree, as well as man. For to
pass by other instances, birds learning of tunes, and the
endeavours one may observe in them, to hit the notes right, put
it past doubt with me, that they have perception, and retain

h4

104 DISCERNING. Book 2.

ideas in their memories, and use them for patterns. For it seems
to me impossible, that they should endeavour to conform their
voices to notes (as it is plain they do) of which they had no
ideas. For though I should grant, sound may mechanically
cause a certain motion of the animal spirits in the brains of those
birds, whilst the tune is actually playing ; and that motion may
be continued on to the muscles of the wings, and so the bird
mechanically be driven away by certain noises, because this
may tend to the bird's preservation ; yet that can never be
supposed a reason, why it should cause mechanically, either
whilst the tune is playing, much less after it has ceased, such
a motion in the organs of the bird's voice, as should conform it
to the notes of a foreign sound, which intimation can be of no
use to the bird's preservation : but which is more, it cannot with
any appearance of reason be supposed (much less proved) that
birds, without sense and memory, can approach their notes,
nearer and nearer by degrees, to a tune played yesterday ; which,
if they have no idea of in their memory, is no where, nor
can be a pattern for them to imitate, or which any repeated
essays can bring them nearer to. Since there is no reason why
the sound of a pipe should leave traces in their brains, which,
not at first, but by their after-endeavours, should produce the like
sounds ; and why the sounds they make themselves, should not
make traces which they should follow, as well as those of the
pipe, is impossible to conceive.

CHAPTER XI.

OF DISCERNING, AND OTHER OPERATIONS OF THE MIND.

§. 1. No knoioledge without discejnment . — Another faculty
we may take notice of in our minds, is that of discerning and
distinguishing between the several ideas it has. It is not enough
to have a confused perception of something in general : unless
the mind had a distinct perception of different objects, and
their qualities, it would be capable of very little knowledge;
though the bodies that affect us, were as busy about us as they
are now, and the mind were continually employed in thinking.
On this faculty of distinguishing one thing from another,
depends the evidence and certainty of several, even very general
propositions, which have passed for innate truths ; because
men overlooking the true cause, why those propositions find
universal assent, impute it wholly to native uniform impressions ;

Chll. DISCERNING. 105

whereas it, in truth, depends upon this clear discerning faculty
of the mind, whereby it perceives two ideas to be the same,
or different. But of this, more hereafter.

§. 2. The difference of wit and judgment. — How much the
imperfection of accurately discriminating ideas one from another
lies, either in the dulness or faults of the organs of sense ; or
want of acuteness, exercise, or attention in the understanding ;
or hastiness and precipitancy, natural to some tempers, I will
not here examine : it suffices to take notice, that this is one of
the operations that the mind may reflect on, and observe in
itself. It is of that consequence to its other knowledge, that so
far as this faculty is in itself dull, or not rightly made use of,
for the distinguishing one thing from another, so far our notions
are confused, and our reason and judgment disturbed or misled.
If in having our ideas in the memory ready at hand, consists
quickness of parts ; in this of having them unconfused, and
being able nicely to distinguish one thing from another, where
there is but the least difference, consists, in a great measure, the
exactness of judgment, and clearness of reason, which is to be
observed in one man above another. And hence, perhaps, may
be siven some reason of that common observation, that men who
have a great deal of wit, and prompt memories, have not always
the clearest judgment, or deepest reason. For wit lying most in
the assemblage of ideas, and putting those together with quick-
ness and variety, wherein can be found any resemblance or
congruity, thereby to make up pleasant pictures, and agreeable
visions, in the fancy : judgment, on the contrary, lies quite on the
other side, in separating carefully, one from another, ideas
wherein can be found the least difference, thereby to avoid being
misled by similitude, and, by affinity, to take one thing for
another. This is a way of proceeding quite contrary to meta-
phor and allusion, wherein, for the most part, lies that entertain-
ment and pleasantry of wit, which strikes so lively on the fancy,
and, therefore, is so acceptable to all people ; because its beauty
appears at first sight, and there is required no labour of thought
to examine what truth or reason there is in it. The mind,
without looking any farther, rests satisfied with the agreeableness
of the picture, and the gaiety of the fancy : and it is a kind of
an affront to go about to examine it by the severe rules of truth
and good reason; whereby it appears, that it consists in some-
thing that is not perfectly comformable to them.

§. 3. Clearness alone hinders confusion. — To the well distin-
guishing our ideas, it chiefly contributes, that they be clear and
determinate : and where they are so, it will not breed any confu-
sion or mistake about them, though the senses should (as

106 DISCERNING. Book±

sometimes they do) convey them from the same object differently,
on different occasions, and so seem to err. For though a man
in a fever should from sugar have a bitter taste, which at another
time would produce a sweet one ; yet the idea of bitter in that
man's mind, would be as clear and distinct from the idea of
sweet, as if he had tasted only gall. Nor does it make any
more confusion between the two ideas of sweet and bitter, that
the same sort of body produces at one time one, and at another
time another, idea, by the taste, than it makes a confusion in two
ideas of white and sweet, or white and round, that the same piece
of sugar produces them both in the mind at the same time. And
the ideas of orange colour and azure, that are produced in the
rni^d by the same parcel of the infusion of lignum nephriticum,
are no less distinct ideas, than those of the same colours, taken
from two very different bodies.

§. 4. Comparing. — The comparing them one with another, in
respect of extent, degrees, time, place, or any other circum-
stances, is another operation of the mind about its ideas, and is
that upon which depends all that large tribe of ideas compre-
hended under relations ; which of how vast an extent it is, I shall
have occasion to consider hereafter.

§. 5. Brutes compare, hut imperfectly — How far brutes par-
take in this faculty, is not easy to determine ; I imagine they
have it not in any great degree ; for though they probably have
several ideas distinct enough, yet it seems to me to be the
prerogative of human understanding, when it has sufficiently dis-
tinguished any ideas, so as to perceive them to be perfectly dif-
ferent, and so consequently two, to cast about and consider in
what circumstances they are capable to be compared. And,
therefore, I think, beasts compare not their ideas, farther than
some sensible circumstances annexed to the objects themselves.
The other power of comparing, which may be observed in men,
belonging to general ideas, and useful only to abstract reason-
ings, we may probably conjecture beasts have not.

§. 6. Compounding — The next operation we may observe in
the mind about its ideas, is composition ; whereby it puts
together several of those simple ones it has received from sen-
sation and reflection, and combines them into complex ones.
Under this of composition, may be reckoned also that of en-
larging ; wherein, though the composition does not so much
appear as in more complex ones, yet is nevertheless a putting
several ideas together, though of the same kind. Thus, by
adding several units together, we make the idea of a dozen ;
and putting together the repeated ideas of several perches, we
frame that of a furlong.

Ch. 11. DISCERNING. 107

^. 7. Brutes compound hut little. — In this, also, I suppose,
brutes come far short of men. For though they take in, and
retain together, several combinations of simple ideas, as possibly
the shape, smell, and voice of his master, make up the complex
idea a dog has of him, or rather are so many distinct marks
whereby he knows him ; yet I do not think they do of them-
selves ever compound them, and make complex ideas. And
perhaps, even where we think they have complex ideas, it is only
one simple one that directs them in the knowledge of several,
things, which possibly they distinguish less by their sight than
we inmgine. For i have been credibly informed, that a bitch
will nurse, play with, and be fond of young foxes, as much as,
and in place of, her puppies ; if you can but get them once to
sUck her so long, that her milk may go through them. And
those animals which have a numerous brood of young ones at
once, appear not to have any knowledge of their number ; for
though they are mightily concerned for any one of their young,
that are taken from them whilst they are in sight or hearing, yet
if one cir two of them be stolen from them in their absence, or
without noise, they appear not to miss them, or to have any
sense that their number is lessened.

§. 8. Naming. — When children have, by repeated sensations,
got ideas fixed in their memories, they begin, by degrees, to
learn the use of signs. And when they have got the skill to
apply the organs of speech to the framing of articulate sounds,
they begin to make use of words to signify their ideas to others;
these verbal signs they sometimes borrow from others, and
sometimes make themselves, as one may observe among the new
and unusual names children often give to things in the first use
of language.

§. 9. Abstraction. — The use of words then being to stand as
outward marks of our internal ideas, and those ideas being
taken from particular things, if every particular idea that we
take in, should have a distinct name, names must be endless.
To prevent this, the mind makes the particular ideas received
from particular objects, to become general ; which is done by
considering them as they, are in the mind, such appearances,
separate from all other existences, and the circumstances of real
existence, as time, place, or any o^ther concomitant ideas. This
is called abstraction, whereby ideas, taken from particular
beings, become general representatives of all of the same kind ;
and their names, general names, applicabje to whatever exists
conformable to such abstract ideas. Sujch precise naked ap-
pearances in the mind, without considering how, Avhence, or
with what others they came there, the understanding lays up

108 DISCERNING. Bookl.

(with names commonly annexed to them) as the standard to
rank real existences into sorts, as they agree with these patterns,
and to denominate them accordingly. Thus the same colour
being observed to day in chalk or snow, which the mind yesterday
received from milk, it considers that appearance alone makes it
a representative of all of that kind ; and having given it the
name, whiteness, it by that sound signifies the same quality,
wheresoever to be imagined or met with ; and thus universals,
whether ideas or terms, are made.

§. 10. Brutes abstract not. — If it may be doubted, whether
beasts compound and enlarge their ideas, that way, to any
degree ; this, I think, I may be positive in, that the power of
abstracting is not at all in them ; and that the having of general
ideas, is that which puts a perfect distinction betwixt man and
brutes, and is an excellency which the faculties of brutes do
by no means attain to. For, it is evident, we observe no
footsteps in them, of making use of general signs for imi-
versal ideas ; from which we have reason to imagine, that they
have not the faculty of abstracting, or making general ideas,
since they have no use of words, or any other general signs.

§. 11. Nor can it be imputed to their want of fit organs to
frame articulate sounds, that they have no use or knowledge of
general words ; since many of them, we find, can fashion such
sounds, and pronounce words distinctly enough, but never with
aaiy such application. And, on the other side, men, who, through
some defect in the organs, want words, yet fail not to express
their universal ideas by signs, which serve them instead of ge-
neral words ; a faculty v/hich we see beasts come short in.
And, therefore, I think, we may suppose, that it is in this that
the species of brutes are discriminated from man ; and it is that
proper difference wherein they are wholly separated, and which,
at last, widens to so vast a distance. For if they have any ideas
at all, and are not bare machines (as some would have them), we
cannot deny them to have some reason. It seems as evident to
me, that they do some of them, in certain instances, reason, as
that they have sense; but it is only in particular ideas, just as
they received them from their senses. They are the best of
them tied up within those narrow bounds, and have not (as I
think) the faculty to enlarge them by any kind of abstraction.

§. 12. Idiots and mad7nen. — How far idiots are concerned in
the want or weakness of any, or all, of the foregoing faculties,
an exact observation of their several ways of faltering, would no
doubt discover. For those who either perceive but dully, or
retain the ideas ^hat come into their minds but ill, who cannot
readily excite or compound them, will have little matter to

C/t. 11. DISCERNING.

think on. Those who cannot distinguish, compare, and abstract,
would hardly be able to understand, and make use of language,
or judge, or reason, to any tolerable degree : but only a little,
and imperfectly, about things present, and very familiar to their
senses. And, indeed, any of the fore-mentioned faculties, if
wanting, or out of order, produce suitable defects in men's un-
derstandings and knowledge.

§. 13. In fine, the defect in naturals seems to proceed from
want of quickness, activity, and motion in the intellectual fa-
culties, whereby they are deprived of reason : whereas madmen,
on the other side, seem to suffer by the other extreme. For
they do not appear to me to have lost the faculty of reasoning ;
but having joined together some ideas very wrongly, they mis-
take them for truths ; and they err as men do that argue right
from wrong principles : for by the violence of their imagina-
tions, having taken their fancies for realities, they make right
deductions from them. Thus you shall find a distracted man
fancying himself a king, with a right inference require suitable
attendance, respect, and obedience : others, who have thought
themselves made of glass, have used the caution necessary to
preserve such brittle bodies. Hence it comes to pass, that a
man, who is very sober, and of a right understanding in all other
things, may, in one particular, be as frantic as any in Bedlam ; if
either by any sudden very strong impression, or long fixing his
fancy upon one sort of thoughts, incoherent ideas have been ce-
mented together so powerfully, as to remain united. But there
are degrees of madness, as of folly ! the disorderly jumbling
ideas together, is in some more, some less. In short, herein
seems to lie the difference between idiots and madmen, that
madmen put wrong ideas together, and so make wrong propo-
sitions, but argue and reason right from them : but idiots make
very few or no propositions, and reason scarce at all.

§. 14. Method. — These, I think, are the first faculties and ope-
rations of the mind, which it makes use of in understanding ;
and though they are exercised about all its ideas in general, yet
the instances I have hitherto given, have been chiefly in simple
ideas; and I have subjoined the explication of these faculties
of the mind, to that of simple ideas, before I come to what I
have to say concerning complex ones, for these following
reasons :

First, Because several of these faculties being exercised at
first principally about simple ideas, we might, by following na-
ture in its ordinary method, trace and discover them in their
rise, progress, and gradual improvements.

Secondly, Because observing the faculties of the mind, how

110 DISCERNING. Book 2,

they operate about simple ideas, which are usually in most
men's minds much more clear, precise, and distinct, than com-
plex ones, we may the better examine and learn how the mind
abstracts, denominates, compares, and exercises its other opera-
tions about those which are complex, wherein we are much
more liable to mistake.

TJiirdly, Because these very operations of the mind about
ideas received from sensations, are themselves, when reflected
on, another set of ideas, derived from that other source of our
knowledge, which I call reflection ; and, therefore, fit to be con-
sidered in this place, after the simple ideas of sensation. Of
compounding, comparing, abstracting, &,c. I have but just
spoken, having occasion to treat of them more at large in other
places.

§. 15. These are the beginnings of human knowledge. — And
thus I have given a short, and, I think, true history of the
first beginnings of human knowledge ; whence the mind has
its first objects, and by what steps it makes its progress to
the laying in, and storing up, those ideas, out of which is to be
framed all the knowledge it is capable of; wherein I must ap-
peal to experience and observation, whether I am in the
right : the best way to come to truth, being to examine things
as really they are, and not to conclude they are, as we fancy
ourselves, or have been taught by others to imagine.

§. 16. Appeal to experience. — To deal truly, this is the only
way that lean discover, wdiereby the ideas of things are brought
into the understanding. If other men have either innate ideas,
or infused principles, they have reason to enjoy them ; and if
they are sure of it, it is impossible for others to deny them the
privilege that they have above their neighbours. I can speak
but of what I find in myself, and is agreeable to those notions ;
which, if we will examine the whole course of men in their se-
veral ages, countries, and education, seem to depend on those
foundations which I have laid, and to correspond with this me-
thod, in all the parts and degrees thereof.

§. 17. Dark room. — I pretend not to teach, but to enquire ;
and, therefore, cannot but confess, here again, that external and
internal sensation are the only passages, that I can find, of
knowledge to the understanding. These alone, as far as I can
discover, are the windows by which light is let into this dark
room : for, methinks, the understanding is not much unlike a
closet wholly shut from light, with only some little opening left,
to let in external visible resemblances, or ideas of things with-
out : would the pictures coming into such a dark room but stay
there, and lie so orderly as to be found upon occasion, it would

Ch. 12. COMPLEX IDEAS. Ill

very much resemble the understanding of a man, in reference to
all objects of sight, and the ideas of them.

These are my guesses concerning the means whereby the un-
derstanding comes to have, and retain, simple ideas ; and the
modes of them, with some other operations about them. I pro-
ceed now to examine some of these simple ideas, and their modes,
a little more particularly.

CHAPTER XII.

OF COMPLEX IDEAS.

§. 1. Made hy the mind out of simple ones. — We have hitherto
considered those ideas, in the reception whereof the mind is
only passive, which are those simple ones received from sensation
and reflection before-mentioned, whereof the mind cannot make
one to itself, nor have any idea which does not wholly consist of
them. But as the mind is wholly passive in the reception of all
its simple ideas, so it exerts several acts of its own, whereby,
out of its simple ideas, as the materials and foundations of the
rest, the others are framed. The acts of the mind wherein it
exerts its power over its simple ideas, are chiefly these three :
1. Combining several simple ideas into one compound one, and
thus all complex ideas are made. 2. The second is bringing
two ideas, whether simple or complex, together ; and setting
them by one another, so as to take a view of them at once,
without uniting them into one ; by which way it gets all
ideas of relations. 3. The third is separating them from all
other ideas that accompany them in their real existence ; this is
called abstraction ; and thus all its general ideas are made. This
shows man's power, and its way of operation, to be much what
the same in the material and intellectual word ; for the material
in both being such as he has no power over, either to make or
destroy, all that man can do, is either to unite tliem together, or
to set them by one another, or wholly separate them. I shall
here begin with the first of these, in the consideration of com-
plex ideas, and come to the other two, in their due places. As
simple ideas are observed to exist in several combinations united
together ; so the mind has a power to consider several of them
united together, as one idea ; and that not only as they are
united in external objects, but as itself has joned them. Ideas
thus made up of several simple ones put together, I call complex;
such afe are beauty, gratitude, a man, an army, the universe ;

112 COMPLEX IDEAS. Book 2.

which, though complicated of various simple ideas, or complex
ideas made up of simple ones, yet are, when the mind pleases,
considered each by itself, as one entire thing, and signified by
one name.

§. 2. Made voluntarily. — In this faculty of repeating and
joining together its ideas, the mind has great power in va-
rying and multiplying the objects of its thoughts, infinitely
beyond what sensation or reflection furnishes it with ; but all
this still confined to those simple ideas which it received from
those two sources, which are the ultimate materials of all
its compositions. For simple ideas are all from things them--
selves ; and of these the mind can have no more, nor other, than
what are suggested to it. It can have no other ideas of sensible
qualities, than what come from without, by the senses ; nor any
ideas of other kind of operations of a thinking substance, than
what it finds in itself: but when it has once got these simple
ideas, it is not confined barely to observation, and what offers
itself from without it : it can, by its own power, put together
those ideas it has, and make new complex ones, which it never
received so united.

§. 3. Are either modes, substances or relations. — Complex
ideas, however compounded and decompounded, though their
number be infinite, and the variety endless, wherewith they fill
and entertain the thoughts of men ; yet, I think, they may be
all reduced under these three heads : 1, Modes. 2, Substances.
3, Relations.

§. 4. Modes.— First, Modes I call such complex ideas, which
however compounded, contain not in them the supposition of
subsisting by themselves, but are considered as dependences
on, or affections of, substances ; such are ideas signified by the
words triangle, gratitude, murder, &c. And if in this I use
the word mode in somewhat a different sense from its ordinary
signification, I beg pardon ; it being unavoidable in discourses
differing from the ordinary received notions, either to make new
words, or to use old words in somewhat a new signification ; the
latter whereof, in our present case, is perhaps the most tolerable
of the two.

§. 5. Simple and mixed modes. — Of these modes there are
two sorts, which deserve distinct consideration. First, There
are some which are only variations, or different combinations of
the same simple idea, without the mixture of any other, as a
dozen, or score ; which are nothing but the ideas of so many
distinct units added together, 'and these I call simple modes,
as being contained within the bounds of one simple idea.
Secondly, There are others compounded of simple ideas of

Ch. 12, COMPLEX'-TOEAS. 113

several kinds, put together to make one complex one ; v. g.
beauty, consisting of a certain composition of colour and figure,
causing delight in the beholder ; theft, which being the con-
cealed change of the possession of any thing, without the
consent of the proprietor, contains, as is visible, a combination
of several ideas of several kinds ; and these I call mixed
modes.

§. 6. Substances, single or collective. — Secondly, The ideas of
substances are such combinations of simple ideas, as are taken
to represent distinct particular things subsisting by themselves ;
in which the supposed, or confused, idea of substance, such as
it is, is always the first and chief. Thus, if to substance be
joined the simple idea of a certain dull whitish colour, with
certain degrees of weight, hardness, ductility, and fusibility, we
have the idea of lead ; and a combination of the ideas of a
certain sort of figure, with the powers of motion, thought, and
reasoning, joined to substance, make the ordinary idea of a
man. Now, of substances also, there are two sorts of ideas ;
one of single substances, as they exist separately, as of a man,
or a sheep ; the other of several of those put together, as an
army of men, or flock of sheep ; which collective ideas of se-
veral substances thus put together, are as much each of them
one single idea, as that of a man, or an unit.

§. 7. Relation. — Thirdly, The last sort of complex ideas, is
that we call relation, which consists in the consideration and
comparing one idea with another ; of these several kinds we
shall treat in their order.

§. 8. The abtrusest ideas from the two sources. — If we
trace the progress of our minds, and with attention observe how
it repeats, adds together, and unites its simple ideas received
from sensation or reflection, it will lead us farther than at first,
perhaps, we should have imagined. And, I believe, we shall
find, if we warily observe the originals of our notions, that even
the most abstruse ideas, how remote soever they may seem from
sense, or from any operations of our own minds, are yet only
such as the understanding frames to itself, by repeating and
joining together ideas, that it had, either from objects of sense,
or from its own operations about them ; so that even those large
and abstract ideas, are derived from sensation or reflection,
being no other than what the mind, by the ordinary use of its
own faculties, employed about ideas received from objects of
sense, or from the operations it observes itself about them,
may, and does, attain unto. This I shall endeavour to show in
the ideas we have of space, time, and infinity, and some few
others that seem the most remote from those originals.

I

114 SIMPLE iMODES OF SPACE. Book'l.

CHAPTER XIII.

OF SIMPLE MODES ; AND FIRST, OF THE SIM P LE MO DES OF

SPACE.

§. 1. Simple Modes. — Though, in the foregoing part, I have
often mentioned simple ideas, which are truly the materials of all
our knowledge ; yet having treated of them there, rather in the
way that they come into the mind, than as distinguished from
others more compounded, it will not be, perhaps, amiss to take
a view of some of them again under this consideration, and
examine those different modifications of the same idea, which
the mind either finds in things existing, or is able to make
within itself, without the help of any extrinsical object, or any
foreign suggestion.

Those modifications of any one simple idea (which, as has
been said, I call simple modes), are as perfectly different and
distinct ideas in the mind, as those of the greatest distance or
contrariety. For the idea of two, is as distinct from that of
one, as blueness from heat, or either of them from any number :
and yet it is made up only of that simple idea of an unit
repeated ; and repetitions of this kind joined together, make
those distinct simple modes, of a dozen, a gross, a million.

§. 2. Idea of space. — I shall begin with the simple idea of
space. I have showed above, c. 4, that we get the idea of space,
both by our sight and touch ; which, I think, is so evident, that
it would be as needless to go to prove, that men perceive, by
their sight, a distance between bodies of different colours, or
between the parts of the same body ; as that they see colours
themselves ; nor is it less obvious, that they can do so in the
dark by feeling and touch.

§. 3. Space and extension. — This space, considered barely in
length between any two beings, without considering any thing
else between them, is called distance ; if considered in length,
breadth, and thickness, I think it may be called capacity ; the
term extension is usually applied to it in what manner soever
considered.

§. 4. Immensity. — Each different distance, is a different mo-
dification of space ; and each idea of any different distance,
or space, is a simple mode of this idea. Men, for the use, and
by the custom of measuring, settle in their minds the ideas of
certain stated lengths, such as are an inch, foot, yard, fathom,
mile, diameter of the earth, &c., which are so many distinct
ideas made up only of space. When any such stated lengths or

Ch. 13. SIMPLE MODES OF SPACE. 110

measures of space are made familiar to men's thouojhts, they
can, in their minds, repeat them as often as they will, without
mixino- or joining to them the idea of body, or any thing else;
and frame to themselves the idea of long, square, or cubic^ feet,
yards, or fathoms, here amongst the bodies of the universe, or
else beyond the utmost bounds of all bodies ; and by adding
these still one to another, enlarge their ideas of space as much as
they please. The power of repeating or doubling any idea we
have of any distance, and adding it to the former as often as we
will, without being ever able to come to any stop or stint, let us
enlarge it as much as we will, is that which gives us the idea
of immensity.

§. 5. Figure. — There is another modification of this idea,
which is nothing but the relation which the parts of the termi-
nation of extension, or circumscribed space, have amongst them-
selves. This the touch discovers in sensible bodies, whose ex-
tremities come within our reach ; and the eye takes both from
bodies and colours, whose boundaries are within its view ; where
observing how the extremities terminate either in straight lines,
which meet at discernable angles ; or in crooked lines, wherein
no angles can be perceived, by considering these as they relate
to one another, in all parts of the extremities of any body
or space, it has that idea we call figure, w hich affords to the
mind infinite variety. For besides the vast number of different
figures that do really exist in the coherent masses of matter, the
stock that the mind has in its power, by varying the idea of
space, and thereby making still new compositions, by repeating
its own ideas, and joining them as it pleases, is perfectly inex-
haustible ; and so it can multiply figures in infinitum. ^

§. 6. Figure. — For the mind having a power to repeat the
idea of any length directly stretched out, and join it to another
in the same direction, which is to double the length of that
straight line, or else join another with what inclination it
thinks fit, and so make what sort of angle it pleases; and beino*
able also to shorten any line it imagines, by taking from it one
half, or one fourth, or what part it pleases, without being able to
come to an end of any such divisions, it can make an angle of
any bigness ; so also the lines that are its sides, of what lencjth
it pleases, which joining again to other lines of different lengths,
and at different angles, until it has wholly inclosed any space,
it is evident that it can multiply figures both in their shape and
capacity, iu infinitum ; all which are but so many different simple
modes of space.

The same that it can do with straight lines, it can also do with
crooked, or crooked and straight together ; and the same it can do

1 2

116 SIMPLE MODES OF SPACE. Book^.

in lines, it can also in superficies ; by which we may be led into
farther thoughts of the endless variety of figures that the mind
has a power to make, and thereby to multiply the simple modes
of space.

§. 7. Place. — Another idea coming under this head, and
belonging to this tribe, is that we call place. As in simple
space we consider the relation of distance between any two
bodies or points ; so in our idea of place, we consider the
relation of distance betwixt any thing, and any two or more
points, which are considered as keeping the same distance one
with another, and so considered as at rest : for when we find
any thing at the same distance now, which it was yesterday, from
any two or more points, which have not since changed their
distance one with another, and with which we then compared it,
we say it hath kept the same place : but if it hath sensibly
altered its distance with either of those points, we say it hath
changed its place : though vulgarly speaking, in the common
notion of place, we do not always exactly observe the distance
from these precise points ; but from larger portions of sensible
objects, to which we consider the thing placed to bear relation
and distance, from which we have some reason to observe.

§. 8. Thus a company of chess-men standing on the same
squares of the chess-board where we left them, we say, they
are all in the same place, or unmoved ; though, perhaps, the
chess-board hath been in the mean time carried out of one room
into another, because we compared them only to the parts of
the chess-board, which keep the same distance one with another.
The chess-board, we also say, is in the same place it was, if it
remain in the same part of the cabin, though, perhaps, the ship
which it is in, sails all the while : and the ship is said to be in
the same place, supposing it kept the same distance with the
parts of the neighbouring land ; though, perhaps, the earth hath
turned round ; and so both chess-men, and board, and ship, have
every one changed place, in respect of remoter bodies, which
have kept the same distance one with another. But yet the
distance from certain parts of the board, being that which
determines the place of the chess-men ; and the distance from
the fixed parts of the cabin (with which we made the compa-
rison) being that which determined the place of the chess-board ;
and the fixed parts of the earth, that by which we determined
the place of the ship, these things may be said to be in
the same place, in those respects : though their distance from
some other things, which, in this matter, we did not consider,
being varied, they have undoubtedly changed place in that
respect ; and we ourselves shall think so, when we have occasion
to compare them with those other.

Ch. 13. SIMPLE MODES OF SPACE. 117

^. 9. But this modification of distance we ca,ll place, being
made by men for their common use, that by it they might be
able to design the particular position of things ; where they had
occasion for such designation, men consider and determine of
this place, by reference to those adjacent things which best
served to their present purpose, without considering other
things, which, to answer another purpose, would better determine
the place of the same thing. Thus, in the chess-board, the use of
the designation of the place of each chess-man being determined
only within that chequered piece of wood, it would cross that
purpose, to measure it by any thing else : but when these very
chess-men are put up in a bag, if any one should ask where the
black king is, it woidd be proper to determine the place by the
parts of the room it was in, and not by the chess-board ; there
being another use of designing the place it is now in, than when
in play it was on the chess-board, and so must be determined
by other bodies. So if any one should ask in what place are the
verses which report the story of Nisus and Euryalus, it would be
very improper to determine this place, by saying, they were in
such a part of the earth, or in Bodley's library : but the right
designation of the place would be by the parts of Virgil's works ;
and the proper answer would be, that these verses were about
the middle of the ninth book of his ^Eneid ; and that they have
been always constantly in the same place ever since Virgil was
printed : which is true, though the book itself hath moved a
thousand times ; the use of the idea of place, here, being to
know in what part of the book that story is, that so, upon
occasion, we may know where to find it, and have recourse to it
for use.

§. 10. Place. — That our idea of place is nothing else but
such a relative position of any thing, as I have before mentioned,
I think is plain, and will be easily admitted, when we consider
that we can have no idea of the place of the universe, though
we can of all the parts of it ; because, beyond that, we have not
the idea of any fixed, distinct, particular beings, in reference to
which we can imagine it to have any relation of distance ; but
all beyond it is one uniform space or expansion, wherein the
mind finds no variety, no marks. For to eay that the world
is somewhere, means no more than that it does exist : this,
though a phrase borrowed from place, signifying only its
existence, not location; and Avhen one can find out and frame in
his mind, clearly and distinctly, the place of the universe, he
will be able to tell us, whether it moves or stands still in the
undistinguishable inane of infinite space; though it be true, that
the word place has sometimes a more confused sense, and

I 3

118 SIMPLE MODES OF SPACE. Book 2.

stands for that space which any body takes uj) ; and so the
universe is in a place. The idea, therefore, of place, we have by
the same means that we get the idea of space, (whereof this is
but a particular consideration) viz., by our sight and touch ; by
either of which we receive into our minds the ideas of extension
or distance.

§. 11. Extension and body not the same. — There are some
that would persuade us, that body and extension are the same
thing ; who either change the signification of words, which I
would not suspect them of, they having so severely condemned
the philosophy of others, because it hath been too much placed
in the uncertain meaning, or deceitful obscurity, of doubtful or
insignificant terms. If, therefore, they mean by body and exten-
sion, the same that other people do, viz., by body, something
that is solid and extended, whose parts are separable and
moveable different ways ; and by extension, only the space that
lies between the extremities of those solid coherent parts, and
which is possessed by them, they confound very different ideas
one with another. For I appeal to every man's own thoughts,
whether the idea of space be not as distinct from that of solidity,
as it is from the idea of scarlet colour? It is true, solidity
cannot exist without extension, neither can scarlet colour exist
without extension ; but this hinders not, but that they are
distinct ideas. Many ideas require others as necessary to their
existence or conception, which yet are very distinct ideas.
Motion can neither be, nor be conceived, without space ; and yet
motion is not space, nor space, motion: space can exist without
it, and they are very distinct ideas ; and so, I think, are those
of space and solidity. Solidity is so inseparable an idea from
body, that upon that depends its filling of space, its contact,
impulse, and communication of motion upon impulse. And if
it be a reason to prove, that spirit is different from body,
because thinking includes not the idea of extension in it ; the
same reason will be as valid, I suppose, to prove, that space is
not body, because it includes not the idea of solidity in it; space
and solidity being as distinct ideas, as thinking and extension,
and as wholly separable in the mind one from another. Body
then, and extension, it is evident, are two distinct ideas. For,

§. 12. jPVrsf,' Extension includes no solidity, nor resistance to
the motion of body, as body does.

§. 13. Secondly, The parts of pure space are inseparable one
from the other ; so that the continuity cannot be separated,
neither really nor mentally. For I demand of any one to
remove any part of it from another, with which it is continued,
even so much as in thought. To divide and separate actually,

Ch. 13. SIMPLE MODES OF SPACE. 119

is, as I think, by removing the parts one from another, to make
two superficies, where before there was a continuity: and to
divide mentally, is to make in the mind two superficies, where
before there was a continuity ; and consider them as removed
one from the other ; which can only be done in things
considered by the mind as capable of being separated ; and by
separation of acquiring new distinct superficies, which they then
have not, but are capable of: but neither of these ways of
separation, whether real or mental, is, as I think, compatible to
pure space.

It is true, a man may consider so much of such a space as is
answerable or commensurate to a foot, without considering the
rest, which is, indeed, a partial consideration, but not so much
as mental separation or division ; since a man can no more
mentally divide, without considering two superficies, separate
one from the other, than he can actually divide, without making
two superficies disjoined one from the other : but a partial con-
sideration is not separating. A man may consider light in the
sun, without its heat ; or mobility in body, without its extension,
without thinking of their separation. One is only a partial
consideration, terminating in one alone ; and the other is a
consideration of both, as existing separately.

§. 14. Thirdly, The parts of pure space are immoveable,
which follows from their inseparability ; motion being nothing
but change of distance between any two things : but this
cannot be between parts that are inseparable ; which, therefore,
must needs be at perpetual rest one amongst another.

Thus the determined idea of simple space, distinguishes
it plainly and sufiiciently from body ; since its parts are in-
separable, immoveable, and without resistance to the motion of
body.

§. 15. The definition of extension explains it not. — If any one
ask me, what this space I speak of, is ? I will tell him, when
he tells me what his extension is? For to say, as is usually
done, that extension is to have partes extra partes, is to say
only, that extension is extension : for what am I the better
informed in the nature of extension, when I am told, that exten-
sion "is to have parts that are extended, exterior to parts that
are extended, i.e. extension consists of extended pat'ts ? As if
one, asking what a fibre was ? I should answer him, that it was
a thing made up of several fibres : would he thereby be enabled
to understand what a fibre was, better than he did before ?
Or rather, would he not have reason to think that my
design was to make sport with him, rather than seriously to
instruct him i

I 4

1*^0 SIMPLE MODES OF SPACE. Book 2.

§. IG. Division of heinffs into bodies and spirits, proves not
space and body the same. — Those who contend that space and
body are the same, bring this dilemma : either this space is
something or nothing; if nothing be between two bodies, they
must necessarily touch ; if it be allowed to be something, they
ask, whether it be body or spirit? To which I answer, by
another question, who told them that there was or could be
nothing- but solid beings which could not think, and thinking;
beings that were not extended? Which is all they mean by
the terms body and spirit.

§. 17. Substance, which ive know not, no proof against space
without body. — If it be demanded, (as usually it is) whether
this space, void of body, be substance or accident? I shall
readily answer, I know not: nor shall be ashamed to own my
ignorance, till they that ask, show me a clear distinct idea
of substance.

§. 18. I endeavour, as much as I can, to deliver myself from
those fallacies which we are ajit to put upon ourselves, by
taking words for things. It helps not our ignorance to feign a
knowledge where we have none, by making a noise with sounds,
without clear and distinct significations. Names made at
pleasure, neither alter the nature of things, nor make us
understand them, but as they are signs of, and stand for,
determined ideas. And I desire those who lay so much stress
on the sound of these two syllables, substance, to consider
whether applying it, as they do, to the infinite incomprehensible
God, to finite spirit, and to body, it be in the same sense ; and
whether it stands for the same idea, when each of those three so
different beings are called substances ? If so, whether it will
thence follow, that God, spirits, and body, agreeing in the
same common nature of substance, differ not any otherwise than
in a bare different modification of that substance ; as a tree and
a pebble, being, in the same sense, body, and agreeing in the
common nature of body, differ only in a bare modification of
that common matter ; which will be a very harsh doctrine. If
they say, that they apply it to God, finite spirits, and matter,
in three different significations, and that it stands for one idea
when God is said to be a substance; for another, when the
soul is called substance ; and for a third, when a body is called
so ; if the name substance stands for three several distinct ideas,
they would do well to make known those distinct ideas, or at least
to give three distinct names to them, to prevent in so important
a notion, the confusion and errors that will naturally follow from
the promiscuous use of so doubtful a term ; which is so far
from being suspected to have three distinct, that in ordinary use

Ch. 13. SIMPLE MODES OF SPACE, 121

it has scarce one clear distinct signification : and if they can
thus make three distinct ideas of substance, what hinders why
another may not make a fourth ?

§. 19. Substance and accidents of little use in pliilosophy . —
They who first ran into the notion of accidents, as a sort of real
beings, that needed something to inhere in, were forced to find
out the word substance, to support them. Had the poor Indian
philosopher (who imagined that the earth also wanted something
to bear it up) but thought of this word substance, he needed
not to have been at the trouble to find an elephant to support it>
and a tortoise to support his elephant; the word substance
would have done it effectually* And he that enquired, might
have taken it for as good an answer from an Indian philosopher,
that substance, without knowing what it is, is that which sup-
ports the earth, as we take it for a sufficient answer, and good
doctrine, from our European philosophers, that substance, with-
out knowing what it is, is that which supports accidents. So
that of substance we have no idea of what it is, but only a con-
fused obscure one of what it does.

§. 20. Whatever a learned man may do here, an intelligent
American, who enquired into the nature of things, would scarce
take it for a satisfactory account, if desiring to learn our archi-
tecture, he should be told, that a pillar was a thing supported by a
basis, and a basis something that supported a pillar. Would he
not think himself mocked, instead of taught, with such an ac-
count as this ? and a stranger to them would be very liberally
instructed in the nature of books, and the things they contained,
if he should be told, that all learned books consisted of paper
and letters, and that letters were things inhering in paper, and
paper a thing that held forth letters ; a notable way of having
clear ideas of letters and papers ! but were the Latin words, inhae-
rentia and substantia, put into the plain English ones that answer
them, and were called sticking on, and underpropping, they
would better discover to us the very great clearness there is in
the doctrine of substance and accidents, and show of what use
they are in deciding of questions in philosophy.

§.21. A vacuum beyond the utmost bounds of body. — But to
return to our idea of space. If body be not supposed infinite,
which, I think, no one will affirm, I would ask, whether, if God
placed a man at the extremity of corporeal beings, he could not
stretch his hand beyond his body ? If he could, then he would put
his arm where there was before space without body ; and if there
he spread his fingers, there would still be space between them
without body. If he could not stretch out his hand, it must be
because of some external hindrance (for we suppose him alive,

122 SIMPLE MODES OF SPACE. Book"!.

with such a power of moving the parts of his body that he hath
now, which is not in itself impossible, if God so pleased to have
it ; or, at least, it is not impossible for God so to move him) ;
and then I ask, whether that which hinders his hand from mov-
ing outwards, be substance or accident, something or nothing ?
and when they have resolved that, they will be able to resolve
themselves what that is, which is or may be between two bodies
at a distance, that is not body, and has no solidity. In the mean
time, the argument is at least as good, that where nothing hin-
ders, (as beyond the utmost bounds of all bodies) a body put
in motion may move on, as where there is nothing between,
there two bodies must necessarily touch : for pure space be-
tween, is sufficient to take away the necessity of mutual con-
tact ; but bare space in the way, is not sufficient to stop mo-
tion. The truth is, these men must either own, that they think
body infinite, though they are loth to speak it out ; or else affirm,
that space is not body. For I would fain meet with that think-
ing man, that can, in his thoughts, set any bounds to space, more
than he can to duration ; or, by thinking, hope to arrive at the end
of either : and, therefore, if his idea of eternity be infinite, so is
his idea of immensity ; they are both finite or infinite alike.

^. 22. The power of annihilation proves a vaamw.— Farther,
those who assert the impossibility of space existing without
matter, must not only make body infinite, but must also deny a
power in God to annihilate any part of matter. No one, I sup-
pose, will deny, that God can put an end to all motion that is
in matter, and fix all the bodies of the universe in a perfect
quiet and rest, and continue them so long as he pleases. Who-
ever then will allow, that God can, during such a general rest,
annihilate either this book, or the body of him that reads it,
must necessarily admit the possibility of a vacuum : for it is
evident, that the space that was filled by the parts of the anni-
hilated body, will still remain, and be a space without body.
For the circumambient bodies being in perfect rest, are a wall
of adamant, and, in that state, make it a perfect impossibility for
any other body to get into that space. And, indeed, the neces-
sary motion of one particle of matter, into the place from whence
another particle of matter is removed, is but a consequence from
the supposition of plenitude, which will, therefore, need some
better proof than a supposed matter of fact, which experi-
ment can never make out; our own clear and distinct ideas
plainly satisfying us, that there is no necessary connexion be-
tween space and solidity, since we can conceive the one without
the other. And those who dispute for or against a vacuum, do
thereby confess they have distinct ideas of vacuum and plenum.

Ch. 13. SIMPLE MODES OF SPACE. 12S

i. e. that they have an idea of extension void of solidity, though
they deny its existence, or else they dispute about nothing at
all. For they who so much alter the signification of words, as
to call extension, body, and consequently make the whole es-
sence of body to be nothing but pure extension, without soli-
dity, must talk, absurdly whenever they speak of vacuum, since it
is impossible for extension to be without extension : for vacuum,
whether we affirm or deny its existence, signifies space without
body, whose very existence no one can deny to be possible, who
will not make matter infinite, and take from God a power to an-
nihilate any particle of it.

§. 23. Motion proves a vacuum. — But not to go so far as be-
yond the utmost bounds of body in the universe, nor appeal to
God's Omnipotency to find a vacuum, the motion of bodies
that are in our view and neighbourhood, seems to me plainly to
evince it. For I desire any one so to divide a solid body of any
dimension he pleases, as to make it possible for the solid parts to
move up and down freely every way within the bounds of that
superficies, if there be not left in it a void space, as big as the
least part into which he has divided the said solid body. And
if where the least particle of the body divided is as big as a
mustard-seed, a void space equal to the bulk of a mustard-seed
be requisite to make room for the free motion of the parts of the
divided body within the bounds of its superficies, where the par-
ticles of matter are 100,000,000 less than a mustard-seed ; there
must also be a space void of solid matter, as big as 100,000,000
part of a mustard-seed : for if it hold in one, it will hold in the
other, and so on in infinitum. And let this void space be as-
little as it will, it destroys the hypothesis of plenitude. For if
there can be a space void of body, equal to the smallest sepa-
rate particle of matter now existing in nature, it is still space
without body, and makes as great a difference between space
and body, as if it were /-csya x'*<^t*-o^' a distance as wide as
any in nature. And, therefore, if we suppose not the void space-
necessary to motion, equal to the least parcel of the divided
solid matter, but to ^ or ^ of it, the same consequence will
always follow of space without matter.

§. 24. The ideas of space and hodij distinct. — But tlie ques-
tion being here, " Whether the idea of space or extension be the
same with the idea of body," it is not necessary to prove the real
existence of a vacuum, but the idea of it ; which it is plain men
have, when they enquire and dispute whether there be a vacuum
or no ? for if they had not the idea of space without body, they
could not make a question about its existence : and if their idea
of body did not include in it something more than the bare idea

124 SIMPLE MODES OF SPACE. Book 2.

of space, they could have no doubt about the plenitude of the
word ; and it would be as absurd to demand, whether there
were space without body, as whether there were space without
space, or body without body, since these were but different
names of the same idea.

§. 25. Extension being inseparable from body, prove it not
the same. — It is true, that the idea of extension joins itself so
inseparably with all visible, and most tangible, qualities, that it
suffers us to see no one, or feel very few external objects,
without taking in impressions of extension too. This readiness
of extension to make itself be taken notice of so constantly with
other ideas, has been the occasion, I guess, that some have made
the whole essence of body to consist in extension ; which is not
so much to be wondered at, since some have had their minds, by
their eyes and touch (the busiest of all our senses), so filled
with the idea of extension, and, as it were, wholly possessed
with it, that they allowed no existence to any thing that had not
extension. I shall not now argue with those men, who take the
measure and possibility of all being, only from their narrow and
gross imaginations ; but having here to do only with those who
conclude the essence of body to be extension, because, they
say, they cannot imagine any sensible quality of any body
without extension, I shall desire them to consider, that had they
reflected on their ideas of tastes and smells, as much as on those
of sight and touch, nay, had they examined their ideas of
hunger and thirst, and several other pains, they would have
found that they included in them no idea of extension at all,
which is but an affection of body, as well as the rest, discover-
able by our senses, which are scarce acute enough to look into
the pure essences of things.

§. 26. If those ideas, which are constantly joined to all
others, must, therefore, be concluded to be the essence of those
things which have constantly those ideas joined to them, and
are inseparable from them; then unity is, without doubt, the
essence of every thing. For there is not any object of sensa-
tion or reflection, which does not carry with it the idea of one ;
but the weakness of this kind of argument we have already
shown sufficiently.

§. 27. Ideas of space and solidity distinct. — To conclude :
whatever men shall think concerning the existence of vacuum,
this is plain to me, that we have as clear an idea of space, dis-
tinct from solidity, as we have of solidity, distinct from motion,
or motion, from space. We have not any two more distinct
ideas ; and we can as easily conceive space without solidity, as
we can conceive body or space without motion, though it be

Ch. 13. SIMPLE MODES OF SPACE. 125

never so certain, that neither body nor motion can exist without
space. But whether any one will take space to be only a rela-
tion resulting- from the existence of other beings at a distance,
or whether they will think the words of the most knowing King
Solomon, " The heaven, and the heaven of heavens, cannot con-
tain thee ;" or those more emphatical ones of the inspired philo-
sopher, St. Paul, " In him we live, move, and have our being;"
are to be understood in a literal sense, I leave every one to con-
sider ; only our idea of space is, I think, such as I have men-
tioned, and distinct from that of body. For whether we consider,
in matter itself, the distance of its coherent solid parts, and call
it, in respect of those solid parts, extension ; or, whether con-
sidering it as lying between the extremities of any body in its
several dimensions, we call it length, breadth, and thickness ; or
else considering it as lying between any two bodies, or positive
beings, without any consideration whether there be any matter
or no between, we call it distance. However named or consi-
dered, it is always the same uniform simple idea of space, taken
from objects about which our senses have been conversant,
whereof having settled ideas in our minds, we can revive, repeat,
and add them one to another, as often as we will, and consider
the space or distance so imagined, either as filled with solid
parts, so that another body cannot come there without displacing
and thrusting out the body that was there before ; or else as
void of solidity, so that a body of equal dimensions to that
empty or pure space, may be placed in it without the removing
or expulsion of any thing that was there. But to avoid confu-
sion in discourses concerning this matter, it were possibly to be
wished, that the name extension were applied only to matter, or
the distance of the extremities of particular bodies ; and the
term expansion to space in general, with or without solid matter
possessing it, so as to say, space is expanded, and body extended.
But in this every one has liberty; I propose it only for the
more clear and distinct way of speaking.

§. 28. Men differ little in clear simple ideas. — The knowing
precisely what our words stand for, would, I imagine, in this, as
well as a great many other cases, quickly end the dispute. For
I am apt to think, that men, when they come to examine them,
find their simple ideas all generally to agree, though, in dis-
course with one another, they, perhaps, confound one another
with different names. I imagine that men who abstract their
thoughts, and do well examine the ideas of their own minds,
cannot much differ in thinking; however they may perplex
themselves with words, according to the way of speaking of the
several schools or sects they have been bred up in ; though,

12« DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. Book^.

amongst unthinking men, who examine not scrupulously and
carefully their own ideas, and strip them not from the marks
men use for them, but confound them with words, there must be
endless dispute, wrangling-, and jargon, especially if they be
learned bookish men, devoted to some sect, and accustomed to
the language of it ; and have learned to talk after others. But
if it should happen, that any two thinking men should really
have different ideas, I do not see how they could discourse or
argue one with another. Here I must not be mistaken to think
that every floating imagination in men's brains, is presently of
that sort of ideas I speak of. It is not easy for the mind to put
off those confused notions and prejudices it has imbibed from
custom, inadvertency, and common conversation ; it requires
pains and assiduity to examine its ideas, until it resolves them
into those clear and distinct simple ones out of which they are
compounded ; and to see which, amongst its simple ones, have,
or have not, a necessary connection and dependence one upon
another. Until a man doth this in the primary and original
notion of things, he builds upon floating and uncertain prin-
ciples, and will often find himself at a loss.

CHAPTER XIV.

OF DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES.

^. 1. Duration is fleeting extension. — There is another sort of
distance, or length, the idea whereof we get, not from the per-
manent parts of space, but from the fleeting and perpetually
perishing parts of succession. This we call duration, the
simple modes whereof are any different lengths of it, whereof
we have distinct ideas, as hours, days, years, &c., time and
eternity.

§. 2. Its ideafrom reflection on the train of our ideas. — The
answer of a great man, to one who asked what time was. Si non
rogas intelligo (which amounts to this ; the more I set myself
to think of it, the less I understand it), might, perhaps, persuade
one, that time, which reveals all other things, is itself not to
be discovered. Duration, time, and eternity, are not, without
reason, thought to have something very abstruse in their nature.
But however remote these may seem from our comprehension,
yet if we trace them right to their originals, I doubt not but one
of those sources of all our knowledge, viz., sensation and re-
flection, will be able to furnish us with these ideas, as clear and
distinct as many other which are thought much less obscure ;

Ch. 14. DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. 127

and we shall find, that the idea of eternity itself, is derived from
the same common original with the rest of our ideas.

§. 3. To understand time and eternity aright, we ought, with
attention, to consider what idea it is we have of duration, and
how we came by it. It is evident to any one who will but
observe what passes in his own mind, that there is a train of
ideas which constantly succeed one another in his understanding,
as long as he is awake. Reflection on these appearances of
several ideas, one after another, in our minds, is that which fur-
nishes us with the idea of succession; and the distance between
any parts of that succession, or between the appearance of any
two ideas in our minds, is that we call duration. For whilst we
are thinkino-, or whilst we receive successively several ideas in
our minds, we know that we do exist ; and so we call the exist-
ence, or the continuation of the existence of ourselves, or any
thing else, commensurate to the succession of any ideas in our
minds, the duration of ourselves, or any such other thing co-
existent with our thinking.

§. 4. That we have our notion of succession and duration,
from this original, viz., from reflection on the train of ideas
which we find to appear, one after another, in our own minds,
seems plain to me, in that we have no perception of dura-
tion, but by considering the train of ideas that take their turns
in our understandings. When that succession of ideas ceases,
our perception of duration ceases with it ; which every one
clearly experiments in himself, whilst he sleeps soundly, whether
an hour or a day, a month or a year ; of which duration of
things, while he sleeps, or thinks not, he has no perception at
all, but it is quite lost to him ; and the moment wherein he
leaves off to think, until the moment he begins to think again,
seems to him to have no distance. And so I doubt not but it
would be to a waking man, if it were possible for him to keep
only one idea in his mind, without variation, and the succession
of others ; and we see, that one who fixes his thoughts very
intently on one thing, so as to take but little notice of the
succession of ideas that pass in his mind, whilst he is taken up
with that earnest contemplation, lets slip out of his account a
good part of that duration, and thinks that time shorter than it
is. But if sleep commonly unites the distant parts of duration,
it is because, during that time, we have no succession of ideas
in our minds. For, if a man, during his sleep, dreams, and
variety of ideas make themselves perceptible in his mind one
after another, he hath, then, during such a dreaming, a sense of
duration, and of the length of it. By which it is to me very
clear, that men derive their ideas of duration from their reflec-

128 DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. Book±.

tions on the train of the ideas they observe to succeed one
another in their own understandings ; without which observation,
they can have no notion of duration, whatever may happen in
the world.

§, 5. The idea of duration applicable to things whilst we
sleep. — Indeed, a man having, from reflecting on the succession
and number of his own thoughts, got the notion or idea of
duration, he can apply that notion to things which exist while
he does not think; as he that has got the idea of extension
from bodies by his sight or touch, can apply it to distances,
where no body is seen or felt. And, therefore, though a man
has no perception of the length of duration, which passed
whilst he slept or thought not, yet having observed the revo-
lution of days and nights, and found the length of their dura-
tion to be, in appearance, regular and constant, he can, upon the
supposition that that revolution has proceeded, after the same
manner, whilst he was asleep, or thought not, as it used to do
at other times ; he can, I say, imagine and make allowance for
the length of duration, whilst he slept. But if Adam and Eve
(when they were alone in the world) instead of their ordinary
night's sleep, had passed the whole twenty-four hours in one
continued sleep, the duration of^ that twenty-four hours had
been irrecoverably lost to them, and been for ever left out of
their account of time.

§. 6. The idea of succession 7iot from motion. — Thus by re-
flecting on the appearing of various ideas one after another in
our understandings, we get the notion of succession ; which if
any one would think we did rather get from our observation of
motion by our senses, he will, perhaps, be of my mind, when he
considers, that even motion produces in his mind an idea of suc-
cession no otherwise than as it produces there a continued train
of distinguishable ideas. For a man looking upon a body really
moving, perceives yet no motion at all, unless that motion pro-
duces a constant train of successive ideas, v. g. a man becalmed
at sea, out of sight of land, in a fair day, may look on the sun,
or sea, or ship, a whole hour together, and perceive no motion at
all in either ; though it be certain that two, and perhaps all of
them, have moved, during that time, a great way ; but as soon as
he perceives either of them to have changed distance with some
other body, as soon as this motion produces any new idea in him,
then he perceives that there has been motion. But wherever a
man is, with all things at rest about him, without perceiving any
motion at all ; if during this hour of quiet he has been thinking,
he will perceive the various ideas of his own thoughts, in his
own mind, appearing one after another, and thereby observe and
find succession, where he could observe no motion.

Ch. 14. DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. 120

§. 7. And this, I think, is the reason why motions very slow,
though they are constant, are not perceived by us ; because, in
their remove from one sensible part towards another, their
change of distance is so slow, that it causes no new ideas in us,
but a good while one after another ; and so not causing a con-
stant train of new ideas to follow one another immediately in
our minds, we have no perception of motion, which consisting
in a constant succession, we cannot perceive that succession,
without a constant succession of varying ideas arising from it.

§. 8. On the contrary, things that move so swift, as not to affect
the senses distinctly with several distinguishable distances of
their motion, and so cause not any train of ideas in the mind,
are not also perceived to move. For any thing that moves round
about in a circle, in less time than our ideas are wont to succeed
one another in our minds, is not perceived to move ; but seems
to be a perfect entire circle of that matter or colour^, and not a
part of a circle in motion.

§. 9. The train of ideas has a certain degree of quickness. —
Hence I leave it to others to judge, whether it be not probable,
that our ideas do, whilst we are awake, succeed one another in
our minds at certain distances, not much unlike the images in
the inside of a lanthorn, turned round by the heat of a candle.
This appearance of theirs in train, though, perhaps, it may be
sometimes faster, and sometimes slower ; yet, I guess, varies
not very much in a waking man: there seem to be certain
bounds to the quickness and slowness of the succession of those
ideas one to another in our minds, beyond which they can
neither delay nor hasten.

§. 10. The reason I have for this odd conjecture, is from
observing, that in the impressions made upon any of our senses,
we can, but to a certain degree, perceive any succession; which-
if exceeding quick, the sense of succession is lost, even in cases
where it is evident that there is a real succession. Let a cannon
bullet pass through a room, and in its way take with it any
limb, or fleshy parts of a man ; it is as clear as any demon-
stration can be, that it must strike successively the two sides of
the room. It is also evident, that it must touch one part of the'
flesh first, and another after, and so in succession : and yet, I
believe, nobody, who ever felt the pain of such a shot, or heard
the blow against the two distant walls, could perceive any suc-
cession, either in the pain or sound of so swift a stroke. Such
a part of duration as this, wherein we perceive no succession, is
that which we call an instant ; and is that which takes up the
time of only one idea in our minds, without the succession of
another,, wherein, therefore, we perceive no succession at all.

K

130 DL RATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. Book%

\. 11. This also happens where the motion is so slow, as not
to supply a constant train of fresh ideas to the senses, as fast as
the mind is capable of receiving new ones into it ; and so other
ideas of our own thoughts, having room to come into our minds,
between those offered to our senses by the moving body, there
the sense of motion is lost; and the body, though it really
moves, yet not changing perceivable distance with some other
bodies, as fast as the ideas of our own minds do naturally follow
one another in train, the thing seems to stand still, as is evident
in the hands of clocks, and shadows of sun-dials, and other
constant, but slow, motions, where, though after certain intervals,
we perceive, by the change of distance, that it hath moved, yet
the motion itself we perceive not.

§. 12. TJiis train, the measure of other successions. — So that
to me it seems, that the constant and regular successions of
ideas in a waking man, is, as it were, the measure and standard
of all other successions, whereof, if any one either exceeds the
pnce of our ideas, as where two sounds or pains, &c. take up in
iheir succession the duration of but one idea, or else where any
motion or succession is so slow, as that it keeps not pace with
the ideas in our minds, or the quickness in which they take their
turns ; as when any one or more ideas, in their ordinary course,
come into our mind between those which are offered to the sight
by the different perceptible distances of a body in motion, or
between sounds or smells following one another ; there, also,
the sense of a constant continued succession is lost, and we
perceive it not, but with certain gaps of rest between.

§. 13. The mind cannot fix long on one invariable idea. — If it
be so, that the ideas of our minds, whilst we have any there, do
constantly change and shift in a continual succession, it would
be impossible, may any one say, for a man to think long of any
one thing ; by which, if it be meant, that a man may have one
self-same single idea a long time alone in his mind, without any
variation at all, I think, in matter of fact, it is not possible, for
which (not knowing how the ideas of our minds are framed, of
what materials they are made, whence they have their light, and
how they come to make their appearances) I can give no other
reason but experience ; and I would have any one try whether
he can keep one unvaried single idea in his mind, without any
othcF, for any considerable time together.

§. 14. For trial, let him take any figure, any degree of light,
or whitenessj or what other he pleases ; and he will, 1 suppose, '
find it difficult to keep all other ideas out of his mind; but that
some, either of another kind, or various considerations of that
idea (each of which considerations is anew idea), will constantly

CA. 14. UUUATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. 131

succeed one another in his thoughts, let him be as wary as he
can.

§. 15. All that is in a man's power in this case, I think, is
only to mind and observe what the ideas are, that take their
turns in his understanding ; or else to direct the sort, and call
in such as he hath a desire or use of: but hinder the constant
succession of fresh ones, I think he cannot, though he may com-
monly choose, whether he will heedfully observe and consider
them.

§. 16. Ideas, however made, include no sense of motion. —
Whether these several ideas in a man's mind be made by certain
motions, I will not here dispute ; but this I am sure, that they
include no idea of motion in their appearance ; and if a man
had not the idea of motion otherwise, I think he would have
none at all, which is enough to my present purpose, and suffi-
ciently shows, that the notice we take of the ideas of our minds
appearing there one after another, is that which gives us the
idea of succession and duration, without which, we should have
no such ideas at all. It is not then motion, but the constant
train of ideas in our minds whilst we are waking, that furnishes
us with the idea of duration, whereof motion no otherwise gives
us any perception, than as it causes in our minds a constant
succession of ideas, as I have before shown : and we have as
clear an idea of succession and duration, by the train of other
ideas succeeding one another in our minds, without the idea of
any motion, as by the train of ideas caused by the uninterrupted
sensible change of distance between two bodies, which we have
from motion ; and, therefore, we should as well have the idea of
duration, were there no sense of motion at all.

§. 17. Time is duration set out by measures. — Having thus
got the idea of duration, the next thing natural for the mind to
do, is, to get some measure of this common duration, whereby
it might judge of its different lengths, and consider the distinct
order wherein several things exist, without which, a great part
of our knowledge would be confused, and a great part of history
be rendered very useless. This consideration of duration, as
set out by certain periods, and marked by certain measures or
epochs, is that, I think, which most properly we call time.

§. 18. A good measure of time must divide its whole duration
into equal periods. — In the measuring of extension, there is no-
thing more required but the application of the standard or
measure we make use of, to the thincr of whose extension we
would be informed. But in the measuring of duration, this can-
not be done, because no two ditferent parts of succession can
be put together to measure one another ; and nothing being a

K 2

1.3ji DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. Book 2.

measure of duration but duration, as nothing is of extension
but extension, we cannot keep by us any standing unvarying
measure of duration, which consists in a constant fleeting suc-
cession, as we can of certain lengths of extensions, as inches,
feet, yards, &c., marked out in permanent parcels of matter.
Nothing then could serve well for a convenient measure of time,
but what has divided the whole length of its duration into ap-
parently equal portions, by constantly repeated periods. What
portions of duration are not distinguished, or considered as
distinguished and measured by such periods, come not so
properly under the notion of time, as appears by such phrases
as these, viz. " Before all time, and when time shall be no more."

§. 19. The revolutions of the sun and moon the properest
measures of time. — The diurnal and annual revolutions of the sun,
as having been, from the beginning of nature, constant, regular,
and universally observable by all mankind, and supposed equal
to one another, having been with reason made use of for the
measure of duration. But the distinction of days and years,
having depended on the motion of the sun, it has brought this
mistake with it, that it has been thought that motion and dura-
tion were the measure one of another : for men, in the measuring
of the length of time, having been accustomed to the ideas of
minutes, hours, days, months, years, &c. which they found them-
selves, upon any mention of time or duration, presently to think
on, all which portions of time were measured out by the motion
of those heavenly bodies : they were apt to confound time and
motion, or at least to think that they had a necessary con-
nexion one with another : whereas any constant periodical ap-
pearance or alteration of ideas in seemingly equidistant spaces
of duration, if constantly and universally observable, would have
as well distinguished the intervals of time, as those that have
been made use of. For supposing the sun, which some have
taken to be a fire, had been lighted up at the same distance of
time that it now every day comes about to the same meridian,
and then gone out again about twelve hours after, and that, in
the space of an annual revolution, it had sensibly increased in
brightness and heat, and so decreased again ; would not such
regular appearances serve to measure out the distances of dura-
tion to all that could observe it, as well without, as with, motion ?
for if the appearances were constant, universally observable, and
in equidistant periods, they would serve mankind for measure of
time as well, were the motion away.

§. 20. But not hy their motion, hut jyeriodical appearances-
Vox the freezing of water, or the blowing of a plant, returning
at equidistant periods in all parts of the earth, would as well

Ch. 14. DURATION, AND 1T8 SIMPLE MODES. 138

serve men to reckon their years by, as the motions of the sun.
And, in effect, we see that some people in America counted their
years by the coming of certain birds amongst them at their cer-
tain seasons, and leaving them at others. For a fit of an ague,
the sense of hunger or thirst, a smell, or a taste, or any other
idea, returning constantly at equidistant periods, and making it-
self universally be takeu notice of, would not fail to measure
out the course of succession, and distinguish the distances of
time. Thus we see, that men, born blind, count time well
enough by years, whose revolutions yet they cannot distinguish
by motions that they perceive not. And I ask, whether a blind
man, who distinguished his years either by heat of summer, or
cold of winter ; by the smell of any flower of the spring, or
taste of any fruit of the autumn, would not have a better mea-
sure of time than the Romans had before the reformation of
their Calendar by Julius Caesar ; or many other people, whose
years, notwithstanding the motion of the sun, which they pre-
tend to make use of, are very irregular ? And it adds no small
difficulty to chronology, that the exact lengths of the years that
several nations counted by, are hard to be known, they differing
very much one from another, and I think I may say all of them
from the precise motion of the sun. And if the sun moved
from the creation to the flood, constantly in the equator, and so
equally dispersed its light and heat to all the habitable parts of
the earth, in days all of the same length, without its annual va-
riations to the tropics, as a late ingenious author supposes*, I do
not think it very easy to imagine, that (notwithstanding the mo-
tion of the sun) men should, in the antediluvian world, from the
beginning, count by years, or measure their time by periods,
that had no sensible marks very obvious to distinguish them by.
§. 21. No tioo parts of duration can he certainly known to be
equal. — But perhaps it will be said, withotxt a regular motion,
such as of the sun, or some other, how could it ever be known
that such periods were equal? To which I answer : The equality
of any other returning appearances might be known by the
same way that that of days was known, or presumed to be so at
first ; which was only by judging of them by the ti-ain .of ideas
which had passed in men's minds in the intervals, by which train of
ideas discovering inequality in the natural days, but none in the
artificial days, the artificial days, or ■nvy^^iif/.tfa,, were guessed to
be equal, which was sufficient to make them serve for a measure ;
though exacter search has since discovered inequality in the

* Dr. Burnet's Tlieory of tlic Earth.
K 3

134 DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. Bookl.

\ diurnal revolutions of the sun. and we know not whether the

annual also be not unequal ; these yet, by their presumed and
apparent equality, serve as well to reckon time by (though not
to measure the parts of duration exactly), as if they could be
proved to be exactly equal. We must, therefore, carefully dis-
tinguish betwixt duration itself, and the measures we make use
of to judge of its length. Duration in itself, is to be considered
as going on in one constant, equal, uniform course : but none
of the measures of it, which we make use of, can be known to
do so ; nor can we be assured, that their assigned parts or
periods are equal in duration one to another ; for two successive
lengths of duration, however measured, can never be demon-
strated to be equal. The motion of the sun, which the world
used so long, and so confidently, for an exact measure of du-
ration, has, as I said, been found in its several parts unequal :
and though men have of late made use of a pendulum, as a
more steady and regular motion than that of the sun, or (to
speak more truly) of the earth; yet if any one should be asked
how he certainly knows that the two successive swings of a
pendulum are equal, it would be very hard to satisfy himself,
that they are infallibly so. Since we cannot be sure that the
cause of that motion, which is unknown to us, shall always ope-
rate equally ; and we are sure that the medium in which the
pendulum moves, is not constantly the same : either of which
varying, may alter the equality of such periods, and thereby
destroy the certainty and exactness of the measure by motion,
as well as any other periods of other appearances ; the notion of
duration still remaining clear, though our measures of it cannot
any of them be demonstrated to be exact. Since, then, no two
portions of succession can be brought together, it is impossible
ever certainly to know their equality. All that we can do for a
measure of time, is to take such as have continual successive
appearances at seeming equidistant periods; of which seeming
equality, we have no other measure, but such as the train of our
own ideas have lodged in our memories, with the concurrence of
other probable reasons, to persuade us of their equality.

§. 22. Time not the measure of motion. — One thing seems
strange to me, that whilst all men manifestly measured time by
the motion of the great and visible bodies of the world, time
yet should be defined to be the measure of motion : whereas it
is obvious to every one who reflects ever so little on it, that to
measure motion, space is as necessary to be considered as time ;
and those who look a little farther, will find also the bulk of the
thing moved, necessary to be taken into the computation by any
one who will estimate or measure motion, so as to judge right of

Ch. 14. DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. 135

it. Nor, indeed, does motion any otherwise (-onduce to (he
measuring of duration, than as it constantly brings about the
return of certain sensible ideas, in seeming equidistant periods*
For if the motion of the sun were as unequal as of a ship driven
by unsteady winds, sometimes very slow, and at others, irregu-
larly very swift ; or 'if being equally swift, it yet was not circular,
and produced not the same appearances, it would not at all help
us to measure time, any more than the seeming unequal motion
of a comet does.

§. 23. Minnies, hows, days, and years, not necessary measures
of duration. — Minutes, hours, days, and years, are then no more
necessary to time or duration, than inches, feet, yards, and miles,
marked out in any matter, are to extension. For though we, in
this part of the universe, by the constant use of them, as of
periods set out by the revolutions of the sun, or as known j^arts
of such periods, have fixed the ideas of such lengths of duration
in our minds, which we apply to all parts of time, whose lengths
we should consider ; yet there may be other parts of the uni-
verse, where they no more use these measures of ours, than in
Japan they do our inches, feet, or miles. But yet something
analogous to them, there must be ; for without some regular pe-
riodical returns, we could not measure ourselves, or signify to
others the length of any duration, though, at the same time,
the world were as full of motion as it is now, but no part of it
disposed into regular and apparently equidistant revolutions.
But the different measures that may be made use of for the ac-
count of time, do not at all alter the notion of duration, which
is the thing to be measured, no more than the different stand-
ards of a foot and a cubit, alter the notion of extension to those
who make use of those different measures.

§. 24. One measure of titfie applicable to duration before
time. — The mind having once got such a measure of time, as the
annual revolution of the sun, can apply that measure to dura-
tion, wherein that measure itself did not exist, and with which,
in the reality of its being, it had nothing to do : for should one
say, that Abraham was born in the 2712 year of the Julian pe-
riod, it is altogether as intelligible, as reckoning from the begin-
ning of the world, though there were so far back no motion
of the sun, nor any motion at all. For though the Julian
period be supposed to begin several hundred years before there
were really either days, nights, or years, marked out by any re-
volutions of the sun, yet we reckon as right, and thereby mea-
sure durations as well, as if really at that time the sun had ex-
isted, and kept the same ordinary motion it doth now. The idea
of duration equal to an annual revolution of the sun, is as easily

K 4

13(1 DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MOliES. Seok2.

applicable in our thoughte to duration, where no sun nor motion
was, as the idea of a foot or yard taken from bodies here, can
be applied in our thoughts to distances beyond the confines of
the world, where are no bodies at alJ.

§. 23. For supposing it were 5639 miles, or millions of miles,
from this place to the remotest body of the universe (for being
<|nite, it must be at a certain distaijce), as v/e suppose it to be
6639 years from this time to the first existence of any body in
the beginning of the world, we can, in our thoughts, apply this
measure of a year to duration before the creation, or beyond the
duration of bodies or motion, as we can this measure of a mile
to space beyond the utmost bodies ; and by the one, measure
duration, where there was no motion ; as well as by the other,
measure space in our thoughts, where there is no body.

§. 26. If it be objected to me here, that in this way of ex-
plaining of time, I have begged what I should not, viz., that the
world is neither eternal nor infinite ; I answer, that to my pre-
sent purpose, it is not needful, in this place, to make use of ar-
guments to evince the world to be finite, both in duration and
extension ; but it being, at least, as conceivable as the contrary,
I have certainly the liberty to suppose it, as well as any one
hath to suppose the contrary ; and I doubt not but that every
one that will go about it, may easily conceive in his mind the
beginning of motion, though not of all duration ; and so riiay
come to a stop, and non ultra, in his consideration of motion ; so,
also, in his thoughts, he may set limits to body, and the exten-
sion belonging to it ; but not to space, where no body is, the
utmost bounds of space and duration being beyond the reach of
thought, as well as the utmost bounds of number are beyond
the largest comprehension of the mind, and all for the same
reason, as we shall see in another place.

§. 27. Eternity. — By the same means, therefore, and from
the same original that we come to have the idea of time, we
have also that idea which we call eternity, viz., having got the
idea of succession and duration, by reflecting on the train of
our own ideas, caused in us either by the natural appearances
of those ideas coming constantly of themselves into our waking
thoughts, or else caused by external objects successively affect-
ing our senses ; and having, from the revolutions of the sun,
got the ideas of certain lengths of duration, we can, in our
thoughts, add such lengths of duration to one another, as often
as we please, and apply them, so added, to durations past or to
come : and this we can continue to do on, without bounds or
limits, and proceed in infinitum, and apply thus the length of the
annual motion of the sun to duration, supposed before the sun's.

€h. 14. DURATKDN, and it* SIMPLE MODES. 13-7

or any other, motion had its 'being; which is iKDmore difficult or
absurd, than to apply the notion I have of the moving of a sha-
dow, one hour to day upon the sun-dial, to the duration of
something last night ; v. g. the burning of a candle, which is
now absolutely separate from all actual motion ; and it is -as im-
possible for the duration of that flame for an hour last night, to
co-exist with any motion that now is, or for ever shall be, aS
for any part of duration, that was before the beginning of the
world, to co-exist with the motion of the sun now. But ^et
this hinders not, but that having the idea of the length of the
motion of the shadow on a dial between the marks of two hours,
I can as distinctly measure in my thoughts the duration of that
candle-light last night, as I can the duration of any thing that
does now exist. And it is no more than to think, that had the sun
shone then on the dial, and moved after the same rate it doth
now, the shadow on the dial would have passed from one hour-
line to another, whilst that flame of the candle lasted.

§. 28. The notion of an hour, day, or year, being only the
idea I have of the length of certain periodical regular motions,
neither of which motions do ever all at once exist, but only of
the ideas I have of them in my memory, derived from my senses
or reflection, I can with the same ease, and for the same reason,
apply it in my thoughts to duration antecedent to all manner of
motion, as well as to any thing that is but a minute or a day
antecedent to the motion that at this very moment the sun is in.
All things past, are equally and perfectly at rest; and to this
way of consideration of them are all one, whether they were
before the beginning of the world, or but yesterday ; the
measuring of any duration by some motion, depending not at all
on the real co-existence of that thing to that motion, or any
other periods of revolution,^ but the having a clear idea of the
length of some periodical known motion, or other intervals of
duration in my mind, and applying that to the duration of the
thing I would measure. .

§. 29. Hence we see, that some men imagine the duration of
the world from its first existence, to this present year 1689, to
have been 5639 years, or equal to 5639 annual revolutions of the
sun ; and others a great deal more, as the Egyptians of old, who,
in the time of Alexander, counted 23,000 years from the reign of
the sun ; and the Chinese now, who account the world 3,269,000
years old, or more ; which longer duration of the world, accord-
ing to their computation, though I should not believe it to be
true, yet I can equally imagine it with them, and as truly
understand and say one is longer than the other, as I understand
that Methusalem's life was longer than Enoch's: and if the

im DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. Book 1.

common rockoning of 5639 should be true (as it may be, as well
as any other assigned), it hinders not at all my imagining
what others mean, when they make the world 1000 years older,
since every one may, with the same facility, imagine (I do not
say believe) the world to be 50,000 years old, as 5639 ; and may
as well conceive the duration of 50,000 years, as 5639, Whereby
it appears, that to the measuring the duration of any thing
by time, it is not requisite that that thing should be co-existent
to the motion we measure by, or any other periodical revolution;
l)ut it suffices to this purpose, that we have the idea of the length
of any regular periodical appearance, which we can in our
minds apply to duration, with which the motion or appearance
never co-existed.

§. 30. For as in the history of the creation delivered by
Moses, I can imagine that light existed three days before the
sun was, or had any motion, barely by thinking that the duration
of light before the sun was created, was so long as (if the sun
had moved then as it doth now) would have been equal to three
of his diurnal revolutions ; so, by the same way, I can have an
idea of the chaos or angels being created before there was either
light or any continued motion, a minute, an hour, a day, a year^
or 1000 years. For if I can but consider duration equal to onp
minute, before either the being or motion of any body, I can
add one minute more till I come to 60 : and by the same way of
adding minutes, hours, or years (i. e. such or such parts of the
sun's revolutions, or any other period, whereof I have the idea),
proceed in infinitum, and suppose a duration exceeding as many
such periods as I can reckon, let me add whilst I will, which 1
think is the notion we have of eternity, of whose infinity we
have no other notion than we have of the infinity of number, to
which we can add for ever without end.

§. 31. And thus I think it is plain, that from those two
fountains of all knowledge before-mentioned, viz., reflection
and sensation, we get the ideas of duration, and the measures
of it.

For, First, By observing what passes in our minds, how our
ideas there in train constantly some vanish, and others begin to
aj)pear, we come by the idea of succession.

Secondly, By observing a distance in the parts of this succes-
sion, we get the idea of duration.

Thirdly, By sensation, observing certain appearances at
certain regular and seeming equidistant periods, we get the
ideas of certain lengths or measures of duration, as minutes,
hours, days, years, &.c.

Fourthly, By being able to repeat those measures of time, or

Ch. 16. OF DURATION AND EXPANSION. 139

ideas of stuted length of duration in our minds, as often as we
will, we can come to imagine duration, where nothing does really
endure or exist; and thus we imagine to-morrow, next year, or
seven years hence.

Fifthly, By being able to repeat ideas of any length of
time, as of a minute, a year, or an age, as often as we will in
our own thoughts, and adding them one to another, without ever
coming to the end of such addition, any nearer than we can to
the end of number, to which we can always add, we come by
the idea of eternity, as the future eternal duration of our souls,
as well as the eternity of that infinite being, which must neces-
sarily have always existed.

Sixthly, By considering any part of infinite duration, as set
out by periodical measures, we come by the idea of what we
call time in general.

CHAPTER XV.

Ol- DliUATlON AND EX P A N SIO N , CONS 1 DER ED TOG ETH E 11.

§. 1. Both capable of greater and less. — Though we have in
the precedent chapters dwelt pretty long on the considerations
of space and duration; yet they being ideas of general concern-
ment, that have something very abstruse and peculiar in their
nature, the comparing them one with another, may, perhaps, be
of use for their illustration ; and we may have the more clear
and distinct conception of them, by taking a view of them
together. Distance or space, in its simple abstract conception,
to avoid confusion, I call expansion, to distinguish it from
extension, which by some is used to express this distance only
as it is in the solid parts of matter, and so includes, or at least
intimates, the idea of body : whereas the idea of pure distance
includes no such thing, I prefer also the word expansion to
space, because space is often applied to distance of fleeting
successive parts, which never exist together, as well as to those
which are permanent. In both these (viz., expansion and dura-
tion), the mind has this common idea of continued lengths,
capable of greater or less quantities : for a man has as clear an
idea of the difference of the length of an hour and a day, as of
an inch and a foot.

§. 2. Expansion not hounded hy matter . — The mind, having
got the idea of the length of any part of expansion, let it be a
span, or a pace, or what length you will, can, as has been said,
repeat that idea ; and so adding it to the former, enlarge its idea

1^ OF DURATION AND EXPANSION, Book 2.

of length, and mak« tt equal to two spans, or two paces, and so,
as often as it will, tiH it equals the distance of any parts of the
earth one from another, and increase thus, until it amounts to
the distance of the sun, or remotest star. By such a pro-
gression as this, setting out from the place where it is, or
any other place, it can proceed and pass beyond all those
lengths, and find nothing to stop it going on, either in or without
body. It is true, we can easily, in our thoughts, come to the
end of solid extension ; the extremity and bounds of all body,
we have no difficulty to arrive at ; but when the mind is there,
it finds nothing to hinder its progress into this endless expan-
sion ; of that it can neither find nor conceive any end. Nor let
any one say, that beyond the bounds of body there is nothing
at all, unless he will confine God within the limits of matter,
Solomon, whose understanding was filled and enlarged with
wisdom, seems to have other thoughts, when he says, " Heaven,
and the heaven of heavens, cannot contain thee ;" and he, I
think, very much magnifies to himself the capacity of his own
understanding, who persuades himself, that he can extend his
thoughts farther than God exists, or imagine any expansioH
where he is not.

§. 3. Nor duration hy motion. — Just so is it in duration ; the
mind having got the idea of any length of duration, can
double, multiply, and enlarge it, not only beyond its own, but
beyond the existence of all corporeal beings, and all the measures
of time, taken from the great bodies of the world, and theii-
motions. But yet every one easily admits, that though we make
duration boundless, as certainly it is, we cannot yet extend it
beyond all being. Godi every one easily allows, fills eternity ;
and it is hard to find a reason, why any one should doubt that
he likewise fills immensity. His infinite beihg is certainly as
boundless one way as another ; and methinks it ascribes a little
too much to matter, to say, where there is no body, there is
nothing.

§. 4. Why men more easily admit infinite duration, than infi-
nite expansion. — Hence, I think, we inay learn the reason why
every one familiarly, and without the least hesitation, speaks of,
and supposes, eternity, and sticks tibt to ascribe infinity to du-
ration ; but it is with more doubtihg and reserve, that many
admit, or suppose, the infinity of space. The reason whereof
seems to me to be this ; that duration and extension being used
as names of affections belonging to other beings, we easily con-
ceive in God, infinite duration, and we cannot avoid doing so ;
but not attributing to him extension, but only to matter, which is
finite, we are apter to doubt of the existence of expansion with-

Ck.lb, CONSIDERED TOGETHER. ^ 141,

out matter, of which alone we commonly suppose it an attribute.
And, therefore, when men pursue their thoughts of space, they
are apt to stop at the confines of body, as if space were there
at an end too, and reached no farther. Or if their ideas, upon
consideration, carry them farther, yet they term what is beyond
the limits of the universe, imaginary space ; as if it were no-
thing, because there is no body existing in it. AVhereas, dura-
tion, antecedent to all body, and to the motions which it is
measured by, they never term imaginary ; because it is never
supposed void of some other real existence. And if the names
of things may at all direct our thoughts towards the originals of
men's ideas (as I am apt to think they may very much).> one may
have occasion to think, by the name duration, that the conti-
nuation of existence, with a kind of resistance to any destructive,
force, and the continuation of solidity (which is apt to be con-
founded with, and if we will look into the minute anatomical
parts of matter, is little different from hardness), were thought
to have some analogy, and gave occasion to words so near of
kin, as durare and durum esse. And that durare is applied to
the idea of hardnes.s, as well as that of existence, we see in.
Horace, ^od. 16, ferro duravit seoula. But be. that as it will,
this is certain, that whoever pursues his own thoughts, will find
them sometimes launch out beyond the extent of body, into the
infinity of space qx expansion ; the idea whereof is distinct and
separate from body, and all other things : which may (to those
who please) be a subject of farther meditation.

§. 5. Time to duration, is as place to expansion. — Time in
general is to duration, as place to expansion. They are so;
much of those boundless oceans of eternity and immensity, as
is set out and distinguised from the rest, as it were, by land-;
marks ; and so are made use of, to denote the position of finite
real beings, in respect one to another, in those uniform infinite
oceans of duration and space. These rightly considered, are
only ideas of determinate distances from certain known
points fixed in distinguishable sensible things, and supposed to
keep the same distance one from another. From such points,
fixed in sensible beings, we reckon, and from them we measure
our portions of those infinite quantities ; which so considered,
are that which we call time and place. For duration and space
being in themselves uniform and boundless, the order and posi-
tion of things, without such known settled points, would be lost
in them ; and all things would lie jumbled in an incurable con-
fusion.

§. 6. Time and place are taken for so much of either, as are
set out Inf the existence and motion of bodies. — Time and place

142 DUUATION AND EXPANSION, Book^.

taken thus ibr determinate distinguishable portions of" those in-
finite abysses of space and duration, set out or supposed to be
distinguished from tlie rest by marks and known boundaries,
have each of them a two-fold acceptation.

First, Time in general is commonly taken for so much of in-
finite duration, as is measured by, and co-existent with, the
existence and motions of the great bodies of the universe, as
far as we know any thing of them : and in this sense, time be-
gins and ends with the frame of this sensible world, as in these
phrases before-mentioned, before all time, or when time shall
be no more. Place likewise is taken sometimes for that portion of
infinite space, which is possessed by, and comprehended within,
the material world ; and is thereby distinguished from the rest of
expansion, though this may more properly be called extension
than place. Within these two are confined, and by the ob-
servable parts of them are measured and determined, the particular
time or duration, and the particular extension and place, of all
corporeal beings.

§. 7. Sometimes for so much of either, as loe design by mea-
sures taken from the hulk or motion of bodies. — Secondly, Some-
times the word time is used in a larger sense, and is applied to
parts of that infinite duration, not that were really distinguished
and measured out by this real existence, and periodical motions
of bodies, that were appointed from the beginning to be for signs
and for seasons, and for days and years, and are accordingly
our measures of time ; but such other portions too of that infi-
nite uniform duration, which we, upon any occasion, do suppose
equal to certain lengths of measured time ; and so consider
them as bounded and determined. For if we should suppose
the creation, or fall, of the angels, was at the beginning of the
Julian period, we should speak properly enough ; and should be
understood, if we said, it is a longer time since the creation of
angels, than the creation of the world, by seven thousand, six hun-
dred, and forty years : whereby we would mark out so much of
that distinguished duration, as we suppose equal to, and would
have admitted, seven thousand, six hundred, and forty annual re-
volutions of the sun, moving at the rate it now does. And thus
likewise we sometimes speak of place, distance, or bulk, in the
great inane beyond the confir.es of the world, when we con-
sider so muc4i of that space as is equal to, or capable to, receive a
body of any assigned dimensions, as a cubic foot ; or do sup-
pose a point in it, at such a certain distance from any part of
the universe.

§. 8. They belong to all beings. — Where and when are ques-
tions belonging to all finite existences, and are by us always

CA. 15. CONSIDERED TOGETHKR. 143

i"eckoned from some known parts of" this sensible world, and from
some certain epochs marked out to us by the motions observable
in it. Without some such fixed parts or periods, the order of
things would be lost to our finite understandings, in the bound-
less invariable oceans of duration and expansion ; which com-
prehend in them all finite beings, and in their full extent, belong-
only to the Deity. And, therefore, we are not to wonder, that
we comprehend them not, and do so often find our thoughts at
a loss, when we would consider them, either abstractly in them-
selves, or as any way attributed to the first incomprehensible
being. But when applied to any particular finite beings, the
extension of any body is so much of that infinite space, as the
bulk of the body takes up. And place is the position of any
body, when considered at a certain distance from some other.
As the idea of the particular duration of any thing, is an idea
of that portion of infinite duration, which passes during the
existence of that thing ; so the time when the thing existed, is
the idea of that space of duration, which passed between some
known and fixed period of duration, and the being of that thing.
One shows the distance of the extremities of the bulk, or exist-
ence of the same thing, as that it is a foot square, or lasted two
years ; the other shows the distance of it in place, or existence,
from other fixed points of space or duration ; as that it was in
the middle of Lincoln's Inn Fields, or the first degree of Taurus,
and in the year of our Lord, 1671, or the 1000 year of the Julian
period : all which distances we measure by preconceived ideas
of certain lengths of space and duration, as inches, feet, miles,
and degrees ; and in the other, minutes, days, and years.

^. 9. All the parts of extension, are extension ; and all the
parts of duration, are duration. — There is one thingmore, wherein
space and duration have a great conformity, and that is ; though
they are justly reckoned amongst our simple ideas ; yet none of
the distinct ideas we have of either, is without all manner of
composition * ; it is the very nature of both of them to consist

* It lias been objected to Mr. Locke, that if space consists of parts, as it is confessed
in this place, lie should not have reckoned it in tlie number of simple ideas : because it
seems 4o be inconsistent witii what he says elsewhere, that a simple idea is nncompounded,
and contains in it nothing but one uniform appearance or conception of the mind, and is
not distinguishable into difi'erent ideas. It is farther objected, that Mr. Locke has not
given in the eleventh chapter of the second book, where he begins to speak of simple
ideas, an exact definition of what he understands by the word sinijile ideas. To these
difficulties, Mr. Locke answers thus : To begin with the last, he declares, that he has not
treated his subject in an order perfectly scholastic, liaving not had much familiarity witli
those sort of books during tlie writing of his, and not remembering at all tlie method in
which they are wriiten ; and, therefore, his readers ought not to expect definitions regu-
larly placed at the beginning of each new subject. Mr. Locke contents himself to employ
the principal term; that he uses, so that from his use of them, the reader may easily com-

144 DURATION AND EXPANSION, Book 2.

of parts : but their parts being all of the same kind, and without
the mixture of any other idea, hinder them not from having a
place amongst simple ideas. Could the mind, as in number,
come to so small a part of extension or duration, as excluded
divisibility, that would be, as it were, the indivisible unit, or
idea ; by repetition of which, it would make its more enlarged
ideas of extension and duration. But since the mind is~.not
able to frame an idea of any space without parts, instead thereof
it makes use of the common measures, which, by familiar use, in
each country, have imprinted themselves on the memory (as inches
and feet; or cubits and parasangs ; and so seconds, minutes,
hours, days, and years in duration) : the mind; makes use, I say,
of such ideas as these, as simple ones ; and these are the com-
ponent parts of larger ideas,, which the mind, upon occasion,
makes by the addition of such known lengths, which it is ac-
quainted with. On the other side, the ordinary smallest measure
we have of either, is looked on as an unit in number, when the
mind, by division, would. reduce them into less fractions. Though
on both sides, both in addition and division, either space or
duration, when the idea under consideration becomes very big,
or very small, its precise bulk; becomes very obscure and con-

prehended what he means by tbeni. But with respect to the terra simple idea, lie has had
the good luck to dehne. thai: in tlie place cited in the objection ; and, therefore, there is no
reason to supply that defect. Xiie question theniis to know, wliether the idea of exten-
sion agrees with this definition ? which will effectually agree to it, if it be understood in
the sense which Mr. Locke liad principally in his view : for that composition which lie
designed to exclude in that definition, was a composition of dift'erent ideas in the mind,
and not a composition of the same kind in a thing whose essence consists in having parts
of the same kind, where you can never come to a part entirely exempted from this com-
position. So that if the idea of extension consists in having partem extra partes (as the
schools speak), it is always, in the sense of Mr. Locke, a simple idea ; because the idea of
having partes extra partes, cannot be resolved into two other ideas. For the remainder of
the objection made to Mr. Locke, with respect to the nature of extension, Mr. Locke was
aware of it, as may be seen in $ 9, chap. 15, of the second book, where he says, that " the
least portion of space or extension, whereof we have a clear and distinct idea, may per-
haps be the fittest to be considered by us as a simple idea of that kind, out of which, our
complex modes of space and extension are made up." So that, according to Mr. Locke,
it may very fitly be called a simple idea, since it is the least idea of space that the mind
can form to itself, and that cannot be divided by the mind into any less, whereof it has in
itself any determined perception. From whence it follows, that it is to the mind one
simple idea ; and that is sufficient to take away this objection : for it is not the design of
Mr. Locke, in this place, to discourse of any thing but concerning the idea of tlie mind.
But if this is not sufficient to clear the difficulty, Mr. Locke hath nothing more to add,
but that the idea of extension is so peculiar, that it cannot exactly agree with the definition
that he has given of those simple ideas, so that it differs in some manner from hH others
of that kind, he thinks it is better to leave it there exposed to this difficulty, than to make
a new division in his favour. It is enough for Mr. Locke, that his meaning can be under-
stood. It is very common to observe intelligible discourses spoiled by too much subtilty
in nice divisions. We ought to put things together as well as we can, doctriwE causd;
but after all, several things will not be bundled:up together under our terms and ways of
speaking.

Ck,lo, CONSlUEUliD TOGETHER. 145

fused ; and it is the number of its repeated additions, or divisions,
that alone remains clear and distinct, as will easily appear to
any one, who will let his thoughts loose in the vast expansion
of space, or divisibility of matter. Every part of duration, is
duration too ; and every part of extension, is extension, both
of them capable of addition or division in hifitiitum. But the
least portions of either of them, whereof we have clear and dis-
tinct ideas, may perhaps be fittest to be considered by us, as
the simple ideas of that kind, out of which our complex modes
of space, extension, and duration, are made up, and into which
they can again be distinctly revolved. Such a small part of
duration, may be called a moment, and is the time of one idea
in our minds, in the train of their ordinary succession there.
The other, wanting a proper name, I know not whether I may
be allowed to call a sensible point, meaning thereby the least
particle of matter or space we can discern, which is ordinarily
about a minute, and to the sharpest eyes, seldom less than thirty
seconds of a circle, whereof the eye is the centre.

§. 10. Their parts inseparable. — Expansion and duration have
this farther agreement, that though they are both considered by
us as having parts, yet their parts are not separable one from
another, no not even in thought ; though the parts of bodies,
from whence we take our measure of the one, and the parts of
motion, or rather a succession of ideas in our minds, from
whence we take the measure of the other, may be interrupted
and separated ; as the one is often by rest, and the other is by
sleep, which we call rest too.

§. 11. Duration is as a line, expansion as a solid. — But yet
there is this manifest difference between them, that the ideas of
length, which we have of expansion, are turned every way, and
so make figure, and breadth, and thickness ; but duration is but
as it were the length of one straight line, extended in infinitum^
not capable of multiplicity, variation, or figure ; but is one
common measure of all existence whatsoever, wherein all things,
whilst they exist, equally partake. For this present moment is
common to all things that are now in being, and equally com-
prehends that part of their existence, as much as if they were
all but one single being ; and we may truly say, they all exist
in the same moment of time. Whether angels and spirits have
any analogy to this, in respect to expansion, is beyond my com-
prehension ; and, perhaps, for us, who have understandings and
comprehensions suited to our own preservation, and the ends of
our own being, but not to the reality and extent of all other
beings, it is near as hard to conceive any existence, or to have
an idea of any real being, with a perfect negation of all manner

L

14<; DURATION AND EXPANSION, &c. Bookl.

of expansion ; as it is to have the idea of any real existence,
with a perfect negation of all manner of duration. And, there-
fore, what spirits have to do with space, or how they communi-
cate in it, we know not. All that we know is, that bodies do
each singly possess its proper portion of it, according to the ex-
tent of solid parts ; and thereby exclude all other bodies
from having any share in that particular portion of space, whilst
it remains there.

§. 12. Duration has never two parts together, expansion
altogether. — Duration, and time, which is a part of it, is the idea
we have of perishing distance, of which no two parts exist
together, but follow each other in succession ; as expansion is
the idea of lasting distance, all whose parts exist together,
and are not capable of succession. And, therefore, though
we cannot conceive any duration without succession, nor
can put it together in our thoughts, that any being does now
exist to-morrow, or possess at once more than the present
moment of duration ; yet we can conceive the eternal duration
of the Almighty far different from that of man, or any other
finite being. Because man comprehends not in his knowledge
or power, all past and future things ; his thoughts are but of
vesterdav, and he knows not what to-morrow will bring forth.
What is once passed, he can never recal ; and what is yet to
come, he cannot make present. What I say of man, I say of
all finite beings, who, though they may far exceed man in know-
ledge and power, yet are no more than the meanest creature, in
comparison with God himself. Finite, of any magnitude, holds
not any proportion to infinite. God's infinite duration being ac-
companied with infinite knowledge and infinite power, he sees
all things past and to come ; and they are no more distant from
his knowledge, no farther removed from his sight, than the pre-
sent ; they all lie under the same view ; and there is nothing
which he cannot make exist each moment he pleases. For the
existence of all things depending upon his good pleasure, all
things exist every moment that he thinks fit to have them exist.
To conclude : expansion and duration do mutually embrace and
comprehend each other; every part of space being in every
part of duration ; and every part of duration in every part of
expansion. Such a combination of two distinct ideas, is, I sup-
pose, scarce to be found in all that great variety we do or can-
conceive, and may aftbrd matter to farther speculation.

(A. 16. NUMl^KR. 147

CHAPTER XVI.

OK NUMBKR.

§. 1. TSumhey, the simplest and most universal kha. — Amoni;st
all the ideas we have, as tlicre is none sug-^ested to the mind by
more ways, so there is none more simple, than that of unity, or
one. It has no shadow of variety or composition in it ; every
object our seilses are employed about ; every idea in our under-
standings j every thought of our minds, bring this idea along
with it. And, therefore, it is the most intimate to our thoughts,
as well as it is in its agreement to all other thinos, the most
universal idea we have. For number applies itself to men,
angels, actions, thoughts, every thing that either doth exist, or
can be imao-ined.

§. 2. Its modes made hy addition. — By repeating this idea in
our minds, and adding the repetitions together, we come by the
complex ideas of the modes of it. Thus by adding one to one,
we have the complex idea of a couple ; but putting twelve units
together, we have the complex idea of a dozen ; and so of a
score, or a million, or any other number.

§. 3. Each mode distinct. — The simple modes of numbers are
of all other the most distinct ; every the least variation, which
is an unit, making each combination as clearly different from
that which approacheth nearest to it, as the most remote ; two
being as distinct from one, as two hundred; and the idea of
two, as distinct from the idea of three, as the magnitude of the
whole darth, is from that of a mite. This is not so in other
simple modes, in which it is not so easy, nor perhaps possible,
for us to distinguish betwixt two approaching ideas, which yet
are really different. For who will undertake to find a difference
between the white of this paper, and that of the next degree to
it ? Or can form distinct ideas of every the least excess in
extension?

§. 4. Therefore demonstrations in numbers the most precise. —
The clearness and distinctness of each mode of number from
all others, even those that approach nearest, makes me apt to
think, that demonstrations in numbers, if they are not more
evident and exact than in extension, yet they are more general
in their use, and more determinate in their application. Because
the ideas of numbers are more precise and distinguishable than
m extension, where every equality and excess are not so easy to
be observed or measured ; because our thoughts cannot in space
iiTive at ahy determined smallness, beyond which it cannot go,

L 2

148 NUMIJEU. Book 2.

as an unit ; and, therefore, the quantity or proportion of any the
least excess cannot be discovered : which is clear otherwise in
number ; where, as has been said, ninety-one is as distinguish-
able from ninety, as from nine thousand, though ninety-one be
the next immediate excess to ninety. But it is not so in exten-
sion, where whatsoever is more than just a foot, or an inch, is
not distinguishable from the standard of a foot, or an inch ; and
in lines, which appear of an equal length, one may be longer
than the other by innumerable parts ; nor can any one assign
an angle, which shall be the next biggest to a right one.

§, 5. Names necessary to numbei's. — By the repeating, as has
been said, of the idea of an unit, and joining it to another unit,
we make thereof one collective idea, marked by the name two.
And whosoever can do this, and proceed on, still adding one
more to the last collective idea which he had of any number,
and give a name to it, may count, or have ideas for, several col-
lections of units, distinguished one from another, as far as he
hath a series of names for following numbers, and a memory to
retain that series, with their several numbers ; all numeration
being but still the adding of one unit more, and giving to the
whole together, as comprehended in one idea, a new or distinct
name or sign, whereby to know it from those before and after,
and distinguish it from every smaller or greater multitude of
units. So that he that can add one to one, and so to two, and
so go on with his tale, taking still with him the distinct names
belonging to every progression ; and so again, by subtracting
an unit from each collection, retreat and lessen them, is capable
of all the ideas of numbers within the compass of his language,
or for which he hath names, though not, perhaps, of more. For
the several simple modes of numbers, being in our minds but so
many combinations of units, which have no variety, nor are
capable of any other difference but more or less, names or
marks for each distinct combination seem more necessary than
in any other sort of ideas. For without such names or marks,
we can hardly well make use of numbers in reckoning, especially
where the combination is made up of any great multitude of
units ; which put together without a name or mark, to distin-
guish that precise collection, will hardly be kept from being a
heap in confusion.

^. 6. This I think to be the reason why some Americans I
have spoken with (who were otherwise of quick and rational
parts enough), could not, as we do, by any means, count to one
thousand ; nor had any distinct idea of that number, though
they could reckon very well to twenty. Because their language
being scanty, and accommodated only to the few necessaries of

Ch. Hi. NUMBER. 149

a needy simple life, unacquainted either with trade or mathe-
matics, had no words in it to stand for one thousand ; so that when
they were discoursed with of those great numbers, they would
show the hairs of their head, to express a great multitude, which
they could not number ; which inability, I suppose, proceeded
from their want of names. The Tououpinambos had no names
for numbers above five ; any number beyond that, they made out
by showing their fingers, and the fingers of others who were
present*. And I doubt not but we ourselves might distinctly
number in words, a great deal farther than we usually do, would
we find out but some fit denominations to signify them by ;
whereas in the way we take now to name them, by millions of
millions of millions, &c., it is hard to go beyond eighteen, or at
most four and twenty, decimal progressions, without confusion.
But to show how much distinct names conduce to our well
reckoning, or having useful ideas of numbers, let us set all these
following figures in one continued line, as the marks of one
number : v. g.

Nonillions. Octillions. Septillions. Sextillions. Quintrillions.

857324. 162486. 345896. 437918. 423147.

Quatrillions. Trillions. Billions. Millions. Units.

248106. 235421. 261731. 368149. 623137.

The ordinary way of naming this number in English, will be
the often repeating of millions, of millions, of millions, of mil-
lions, of millions, of millions, of millions, of millions (which
is the denomination of the second six figures). In which way,
it will be very hard to have any distinguishing notions of this
number : but whether, by giving every six figures a new and
orderly denomination, these, and perhaps a great many more,
figures, in progression, might not easily be counted distinctly,
and ideas of them both got more easily to ourselves, and more
plainly signified to others, I leave it to be considered. This I
mention only to show how -necessary distinct names are to
numbering, without pretending to introduce new ones of my
invention.

^. 7. Why children number not earlier. — Thus children, either
for want of names to mark the several progressions of numbers,
or not having yet the faculty to collect scattered ideas into com-
plex ones, and range them in a regular order, and so retain them
in their memories, as is necessary to reckoning, do not begin to
number very early, nor proceed in it very far or steadily, until a

Ilistoire d'uii Vti_yau<.', I lit en V.x teirc du Drasil, par JtHti «le Lery, t. -0, jj^.

L 3

l&O INFINITY. Book 2

good wliile after they are well furnished with good store of
other ideas ; and one may often observe them discourse and rea^-
son pretty well, and have very clear conceptions of several other
things, before they can tell twenty. And some, through the de-
fault of their memories, who cannot retain the several combina-
tions of numbers, with their names . annexed in their distinct
orders, and the dependance of so long a train of numeral pro-
gressions, and their relation to one another, are not able, all
their life time, to reckon, or regularly go over, any moderate
series, of numbers. For he that will count twenty, or have any
idea of that number, must know, that nineteen went before, with
the distinct name or sign of every one of them, as they stand
marked in their order ; for wherever this fails, a gap is made,
the chain breaks, and the progress in numbering can go no
farther. So that to reckon right, it is required, 1, That the mind
distinguishes carefully tw^o ideas, which are different one from
another, only by the addition or subtraction of one unit. 2,
That it retain in memory the names or marks of the several com-
binations from an unit to that number ; and that not confusedly,
and at random, but in that exact order, that the numbers follow
one another ; in either of which, if it trips, the whole business
of numbering will be disturbed, and there w^ill remain only the
confused idea of multitude ; but the ideas necessary to distinct
numeration, will not be attained to.

§. 8. Number measures all measurahles. — This farther is ob-
servable in number, that it is that which the mind makes use
of in measuring all things that by us are measurable, which
principally are expansion and duration ; and our idea of infinity,
even when applied to those, seems to be nothing but the infinity
of number. For what else are our ideas of eternity and im-
mensity, but the repeated additions of certain ideas of imagined
parts of duration and expansion, with the infinity of number, in
which we can come to no end of addition ? For such an inex-
haustible stock, number (of all other ideas) most clearly fur-
nishes us with, as is obvious to every one. For let a man collect
into one sum, as great a number as he pleases, this multitude,
how great soever, lessens not one jot the power of adding to it,
or brings him any nearer the end of the inexhaustible stock of
number, where still there remains as much to be added, as if
none were taken out. And this endless addition, or addibility
(if any one like the word better), of numbers, so apparent to the
mind, is that, I think, which gives us the clearest and most
distinct idea of infinity : of which, more in the following chapter.

CVt. 17. INFINITY. lal

CHAPTER XVII.

OF INFINITY.

^. I. Infinity, in its original intention, attributed to space,
duration, and number. — He that would know what kind of idea
it is to which we give the name of infinity, cannot do it better
than by considering to what infinity is by the mind more imme-
diately attributed, and then how the mind comes to frame it.

Finite and infinite, seem to me to be looked upon by the mind,
as the modes of quantity ; and to be attributed primarily, in
their first designation, only to those things which have parts,
and are capable of increase or diminution, by the addition or
subtraction of any the least part 5 and such are the ideas of
space, duration, and number, which we have considered in the
foregoing chapters. It is true, that we cannot but be assured,
that the great God, of whom, and from whom, are all things, is
incomprehensibly infinite. But yet, when we apply to that first
and supreme Being, our idea of infinite, in our weak and narrow
thoughts, we do it primarily in respect to his duration and ubi-
quity; and, I think, more figuratively to his power, wisdom, and
goodness, and other attributes, which are properly inexhaustible
and incomprehensible, &:c. For when we call them infinite, we
have no other idea of this infinity, but what carries with it some
reflection on, and intimation of, that number or extent of the
acts or objects of God's power, wisdom, and goodness, which
can never be supposed so great, or^ so many, which these attri-
butes will not always surmount and exceed, let us multiply them
in our thoughts as far as we can, with all the infinity of endless
number. I do not pretend to say how these attributes are in
God, who is infinitely beyond the reach of our narrow capq,-
cities : they do, without doubt, contain in them all possible per-
fection : but this, I say, is our way of conceiving them, and
these our ideas of their infinity.

§. 2. The idea of finite easily found. — Finite, then, and in-
finite, being by the mind looked on as modifications of expan-
sion and duration, the next thing to be considered, is, how the
mind comes by them. As for the idea of finite, there is no great
difficulty. The obvious portions of extension that affect our
senses, carry with them into the mind the idea of finite : and
the ordinary periods of succession, whereby we measure time
and duration, as hours, days, and years, are bounded lengths.
The difficulty is, how we come by those boundless ideas of
eternity and immensity, since the objects we converse with

L 4

162 INFINITY Book '2.

come so mucli short of any approach or proportion to that
largeness.

§. 3. Hov) we come hy the idea of infinity. — Every one that
has any idea of any stated lengths of space, as a foot, finds that
he can repeat the idea ; and joining it to the former, make the
idea of two feet ; and by the addition of a third, three feet ; and
so on, without ever coming to an end of his addition, whether
of the same idea of a foot, or if he pleases of doubling it, or
any other idea he has of any length, as a mile, or diameter of
the earth, or of the orhis viagnus ; for whichsoever of these he
takes, and how often soever he doubles, or any otherwise mul-
tiplies it, he finds, that after he has continued this doubling in
his thoughts, and enlarged his idea as much as he pleases, he
has no more reason to stop, nor is one jot nearer the end of such
addition, than he was at first setting out ; the power of enlarging
his idea of space by farther additions, remaining still the same,
he hence takes the idea of infinite space.

§. 4, Our idea of space, boundless. — This, I think, is the way
whereby the mind gets the idea of infinite space. It is a quite
different consideration to examine, whether the mind has the
idea of such a boundless space actually existing, since our ideas
are not always proof of the existence of things ; but yet, since
this comes here in our way, I suppose I may say, that we are
apt to think that space in itself is actually boundless ; to which
imagination, the idea of space or expansion of itself naturally
leads us. For it being considered by us either as the extension
of body, or as existing by itself, without any solid matter taking
it up (for of such a void space, we have not only the idea, but
I have proved, as I think, from the motion of body, its neces-
sary existence), it is impossible the mind should be ever able to
find or suppose any end of it, or be stopped any where in its
progress in this space, how far soever it extends its thoughts.
Any bounds made with body, even adamantine walls, ace so far
from putting a stop to the mind in its farther progress in space
and extension, that it rather facilitates and enlarges it : for so
far as that body reaches, so far no one can doubt of extension ;
and when we are come to the utmost extremity of body, what is
there that can there put a stop, and satisfy the mind that it is
at the end of space, when it perceives it is not ; nay, when it is
satisfied that body itself can move into it ? For if it be neces-
sary for the motion of body, that there should be an empty
space, though ever so little, here amongst bodies ; and it be
possible for body to move in or through that empty space ; nay,
it is impossible for any particle of matter to move but into an
empty space ; the same possibility of a body's moving into a

Ch. 17. INFINITY. 153

void space, beyond the utmost bounds of body, as well as into a
void space interspersed amongst bodies, will always remain clear
and evident, the idea of empty pure space, whether within, or
beyond, the confines of all bodies, being exactly the same, dif-
fering not in nature, though in bulk ; and there being nothing to
hinder body from moving into it. So that wherever the mind
places itself by any thought, either amongst, or remote from all
bodies, it can, in this uniform idea of space, no where find any
bounds, any end ; and so must necessarily conclude it, by the
very nature and idea of each part of it, to be actually infinite.

§. 5. And so of duration. — As by the power we find in our-
selves of repeating, as often as we \\'\\\, any idea of space, we
get the idea of immensity ; so, by being able to repeat the idea
of any length of duration we have in our minds, wnth all the
endless addition of number, we come by the idea of eternity.
For we find in ourselves, we can no more come to the end of
such repeated ideas, than we can come to the end of number,
which every one perceives he cannot. But here again it is
another question, quite different from our having an idea of
eternity, to know whether there were any real being, whose
duration has been eternal. And as to this, I say, he that con-
siders something now existing, must necessarily come to some-
thing eternal. But having'spoke of this in another place, I shall
here say no more of it, but proceed on to some other consider-
ations of our idea of infinity.

§. 6. Wliy other ideas are not capable of infinity. — If it be
so, that our idea of infinity be got from the power we observe
in ourselves, of repeating without end our own ideas, it may be
demanded, " Why we do not attribute infinity to other ideas,
as well as those of space and duration ; since they may be as
easily, and as often, repeated in our minds as the other; and yet
nobody ever thinks of infinite sweetness, or infinite whiteness,
though he can repeat the idea of sweet or white, as frequently
as those of a yard or a day ?" To which I answer, all the ideas
that are considered as having parts, and are capable of increase
by the addition of any equal or less parts, afford us, by their
repetition, the idea of infinity ; because, with this endless repe-
tition, there is continued an enlargement, of which there can be
no end. But in other ideas, it is not so ; for to the largest idea
of extension or duration, that I at present have, the addition of
any the least part, makes an increase ; but to the perfectest
idea I have of the whitest whiteness, if I add another of a less
or equal whiteness (and of a whiter than I have, I cannot add
the idea), it makes no increase, and enlarges not my idea at all;
and, therefore, the different ideas of whiteness, ^kc, are called

lo4 INFINITY. Bookl.

degrees;. For tlio>;e ideas that consist ot" parts, are capable of"
being augmented by every addition of the least part ; but if you
take the idea of white, which one parcel of snow yielded
yesterday to your sight, and another idea of white, from another
parcel of snow you see to day, and put them together in your
mind, they embody, as it were, and run into one, and the idea of
whiteness is not at all increased ; and if we add a less degree of
whiteness to a greater, we are so far from encreasing, that we
diminish it. Those ideas that consist not of parts, cannot be
augmented to what proportion men please, or be stretched beyond
what they have received by their senses ; but space, duration,
and number, being capable of increase by repetition, leave in
the mind an idea of an endless room for more ; nor can we con-
ceive any where a stop to a farther addition or progression, and
so those ideas alone lead our minds towards the thought of
infinity,

§. 7. Difference hetioeen infinity of space, (md space infinite. —
Though our idea of infinity arise from the contemplation of
quantity, and the endless increase the mind is able to make in
quantity, by the repeated additions of what portions thereof it
pleases ; yet I guess we cause great confusion in our thoughts,
when we join infinity to any supposed idea of quantity the mind
can be thought to have, and so discourse or reason about an
infinite quantity, viz., an infinite space, or an infinite duration.
For our idea of infinity being, as I think, an endless growing
idea, by the idea of any quantity the mind has, being at that
time terminated in that idea (for be it as great as it will, it can
be no greater than it is), to join infinity to it, is to adjust a
standing measure to a growing bulk ; and, therefore, I think it
is not an insignificant subtiity, if I say, that we are carefully to
distinguish between the idea of the infinity of space, and the
idea of a space infinite. The first is nothing but a supposed
endless progression of the mind, over what repeated ideas of
space it pleases ; but to have actually in the mind the idea of a
space infinite, is to suppose the mind already passed over, and
actually to have a view of all those repeated ideas of space
which an endless repetition can never totally represent to it ;
which carries in it a p in contradiction.

§. 8. We have no idea of infinite space. — This, perhaps, will
be a little plainer, if we consider it in numbers. The infinity of
numbers, to the end of whose addition every one perceives
there is no approach, easily appears to any one that reflects on
it ; but how clear soever this idea of the infinity of number be,
there is nothing yet more evident, than the absurdity of the
actual idea of an infinite number. Whatsoever positive ideas

Ck. 17. INFINITY. 155

we have in our minds of any space, duration, or number, let
them be ever so great, they are still finite ; but when we sup-
pose an inexhaustible remainder, from which we remove all
bounds, and wherein we allow the mind an endless progression
of thought, without ever completing the idea, there we have
our idea of infinity ; which though it seems to be pretty clear,
when we consider nothing else in it but the negation of an end,
yet when we would frame in our minds the idea of an infinite
space or duration, that idea is very obscure, and confused,
because it is made up of two parts, very different, if not incon-
sistent. For let a man frame in his mind an idea of any space
or number, as great as he will \ it is plain, the mind rests and
terminates in that idea, which is contrary to the idea of infinity,
which consists in a supposed endless progression. And, there-
fore, I think it is, that we are so easily confounded, when we
come to argue and reason about infinite space or duration, &,c. :
because the parts of such an idea, not being perceived to be, as
they are, inconsistent, the one side or other always perplexes,
whatever consequences we draw from the other, as an idea of
motion not passing on, would perplex any one who should argue
from such an idea, which is not better than an idea of motion at
rest ; and such another seems to me to be the idea of a space,
or (which is the same thing) a number infinite, i. e. of a space or
number, which the mind actually has, and so views and ter-
minates in ; and of a space or number, which, in a constant and
endless enlarging and progression, it can in thought never attain
to. For how large soever an idea of space 1 have in my mind,
it is no larger than it is that instant that I have it, though I be
capable, the next instant, to double it ; and so on in infinitum ;
for that alone is infinite, which has no bounds ; and that the idea
of infinity, in which our thoughts can find none.

§. 9. Number affords us the clearest idea of infinity. — But of
all other ideas, it is number, as I have said, which, 1 think, fur-
nishes us with the clearest and most distinct idea of infinity we
are capable of. For even in space and duration, when the mind
pursues the idea of infinity, it there makes use of the ideas and
repetitions of numbers, as of millions and millions of miles, or
years, which are so many distinct ideas kept best by nimiber
from running into a confused heap, wherein the mind loses
itself ; and when it has added together as many millions, &c.
as it pleases, of known lengths of space or duration, the clearest
idea it can get of infinity, is the confused incomprehensible
remainder of endless addiljle numbers, which affords no pros-
pect of stop or bomidarji.

§. 10. Our different conceptioH fif the infinity of number, du-

156 INFINITY. Book 2.

ration, and expansion. — It will, perhaps, give us a little farther
light into the idea we have of intinity, and discover to us, that
it is nothing but the infinity of number applied to determinate
parts, of which we have in our minds the distinct ideas, if we
consider that number is not generally thought by us infinite,
whereas duration and extension are apt to be so ; which arises
from hence, that in number we are at one end as it were ; for
there being in number nothing less than an unit, we there stop,
and are at an end ; but in addition, or increase of number, we
can set no bounds ; and so it is like a line, whereof one end
terminating with us, the other is extended still forwards, beyond
all that we can conceive ; but in space and duration it is other-
wise. For in duration, we consider it as if this line of number
were extended both ways to an unconceivable, undeterminate,
and infinite length ; which is evident to any one that will but
reflect on what consideration he hath of eternity ; which, I sup-
pose, he will find to be nothing else but the turning this infinity
of number both ways, d parte ante, and cl parte post, as they
speak. For when we would consider eternity « parte ante, what
do we but, beginning from ourselves, and the present time we
are in, repeat in our minds the ideas of years, or ages, or any
other assignable portion of duration past, with a prospect of
proceeding, in such addition, with all the infinity of number ?
and when we would consider eternity, ct parte post, we just after
the same rate begin from ourselves, and reckon by multiplied
periods yet to come, still extending that line of number as
before ; and these two being put together, are that infinite dura-
tion we call eternity ; which, as we turn our view either way,
forwards or backwards, appears infinite, because we still turn
that way the infinite end of number, i. e. the power still of
adding more.

§. 11. The same happens also in space, wherein conceiving
ourselves to be as it were in the centre, we do on all sides pur-
sue those indeterminable lines of number ; and reckoning any
way from ourselves, a yard, mile, diameter of the earth, or orUs
ma()nus, by the infinity of number, we add others to them as
often as we will ; and having no more reason to set bounds to
those repeated ideas, than we have to set bounds to number, we
have that indeterminable idea of immensity.

§. 12. Infinite divisibility. — And since, in any bulk of matter,
our thoughts can never arrive at the utmost divisibility, there-
fore there is an apparent infinity to us also in that, which has
the infinity also of number ; but with this difference, that in the
I'ormer considerations of the infinity of space and duration, we
only use addition of numbers ; whereas this is like the division

Ch. 17. INFINITY. 157

of an unit into its fractions, wherein tlie mind also can proceed
in infinitum, as well as in the former additions, it being indeed
but the addition still of new numbers : though, in the addition
of the one, we can have no more the positive idea of a space in-
finitely great ; than in the division of the other, we can have the
idea of a body infinitely little ; our idea of infinity being, as I
may say, a growing or fugitive idea, still in a boundless pro-
gression, that can stop no where.

§. 13. No positive idea of infinity. — Though it be hard, I
think, to find any one so absurd as to say, he has the positive
idea of an actual infinite number ; the infinity whereof lies only
in a power still of adding any combination of units to any former
number, and that as long, and as much, as one will ; the like
also being in the infinity of space and duration, which power
leaves always to the mind room for endless additions ; yet there
be those who imagine they have positive ideas of infinite dura-
tion and space. It would, I think, be enough to destroy any
such positive idea of infinite, to ask him that has it, whether he
could add to it or no ; which would easily show the mistake of
such a positive idea. We can, I think, have no positive idea of
any space or duration, which is not made up of, and commensu-
rate to, repeated numbers of feet or yards, or days and years,
which are the common measures whereof we have the ideas in
our minds, and whereby we judge of the greatness of this sort
of quantities. And, therefore, since an idea of infinite space or
duration must needs be made up of infinite parts, it can have no
other infinity than that of number, capable still of farther addi-
tion ; but not an actual positive idea of a number infinite. For,
I think, it is evident, that the addition of finite things together
(as are all lengths, whereof we have the positive ideas), can
never otherwise produce the idea of infinity, than as number does ;
which consisting of additions of infinite units one to another,
suggests the idea of infinite, only by a power we find we have
of still increasing the sum, and adding more of the same kind,
without coming one jot nearer the end of such progression.

§. 14. They who would prove their idea of infinite to be po-
sitive, seem to me to do it by a pleasant argument, taken from
the negation of an end, which being negative, the negation of
it is positive. He that considers that the end is, in body, but
the extremity or superficies of that body, will not, perhaps, be
forward to grant, that the end is a bare negative : and he that
perceives the end of his pen is black or white, will be apt to
think, that the end is something more than a pure negation.
Nor is it, when applied to duration, the bare negation of exist-
ence, but more properly the last moment of it. But if they will

158 INFINITV. Booh S.

have the end to be nothing but the bare negation of existence, I
am sure they cannot deny but the beginning is the first in-
stant of being, and is not by any body conceived to be a bare
negation ; and, therefore, by their own argument, the idea of
eternal, d parte ante, or of a duration without a beginning, is but
a negative idea.

§. 15. What is positive, tvhat negative, in our idea of infinite.
— The idea of infinite, has, I confess, soniethinjj of positive in
all those things we apply to it. When we would think of infi-
nite space or duration, we, at first step, usually make some veiy
large idea, as, perhaps, of millions of ages or miles, which pos-
sibly we double and multiply several times. All that we thus
amass together in our thoughts, is positive, and the assemblage
of a great number of positive ideas of space or duration. But
what still remains beyond this, we have no more a positive dis-
tinct notion of, than a mariner has of the depth of the sea,
where having let down a large portion of his sounding-line, he
reaches no bottom : whereby he knows the depth to be so many
fathoms and more ; but how much that more is, he hath no dis-
tinct notion at all : and could he always supply new line, and
find the plummet always sink, without ever stopping, he would
be something in the posture of the mind reaching after a com-
plete and positive idea of infinity. In which case, let this line
be ten, or ten thousand, fathoms long, it equally discovers Avhat rs
beyond it ; and gives only this confused and comparative idea,
that this is not all, but one may yet go farther. So much as
the mind comprehends of any space, it has a positive idea of :
but in endeavouring to make it infinite, it being always enlarg-
ing, always advancing, the idea is still imperfect and incom-
plete. So much space as the mind takes a view of in its con-
templation of greatness, is a clear picture, and positive in the
understanding : but infinite is still greater. 1, Then the idea of
so much, is positive and clear. 2, The idea of greater, is also
clear, but it is but a comparative idea, viz., the idea of so much
greater as cannot be comprehended ; and this is plainly negative,
not positive. For he has no positive clear idea of the largeness
of any extension (which is that sought for in the idea of infinite),
that has not a comprehensive idea of the dimensions of it : and
sucli, nobody, I think, pretends to in what is infinite. For to
say a man has a positive clear idea of any quantity, without
know ing how great it is, is as reasonable as to say, he has the
positive clear idea of the number of the sands on the sea-shore,
who knows not how many there be ; but only that they are more
than twenty. For just such a perfect and positive idea has he
of an infinite space or duration, who says, it is larger than the
i

Ch. 17. INFINITY. 159

extent or duration of ten, one hundred, one thousand, or any other
number of miles, or years, whereof he has, or can have, a positive
idea; which is all the idea, 1 think, we have of infinite. So
that what lies beyond our positive idea towards infinity, lies in
obscurity ; and has the indeterminate confusion of a negative
idea, wherein I know I neither do nor can comprehend- all I
would, it being too large for a finite and narrow capacity : and
that cannot but be very far from a positive complete idea,
wherein the greatest part of what I would comprehend, is left
out, under the undeterminate intimation of being still greater.
For to say, that having in any quantity measured so much, or
gone so far, you are not yet at the end, is only to say, that that
quantity is greater. So that the negation of an end, in any
quantity, is, in other words, only to say, that it is bigger : and
a total negation of an end, is but carrying this bigger still
with you, in all the progressions your thoughts shall make in
quantity ; and adding this idea of still greater, to all the ideas
you have, or can be supposed to have, of quantity. Now,
whether such an idea as that be positive, I leave any one to
consider. j

§. 16. We have no positive idea of an infinite duration. —
I ask those who say they have a positive idea of eternity,
whether their idea of duration includes in it succession or not?
If it does not, they ought to show the difference of their notion
of duration, when applied to an eternal being, and to a finite :
since, perhaps, there may be others, as well as I, who will own
to them their weakness of understanding in this point ; and ac-
knowledge that the notion tbey have of duration, forces them
to conceive, that whatever has duration, is of a longer conti-
nuance to-day than it was yesterday. If to avoid succession in
external existence, they recur to ihepunctum stans of the schools,
I suppose they will thereby very little mend the matter, or help
us to a more clear and positive idea of infinite duration, there
being nothing more inconceivable to me, than duration without
succession. Besides, ih?it pimctu7n stans, if it signify any thing,
being 7ion quantum, finite or infinite, cannot belong to it. But
if our weak apprehensions cannot separate succession from any
duration whatsoever, our idea of eternity can be nothino- but of
infinite succession of moments of duration, wherein any thing
does exist ; and whether any one has, or can have, a positive
idea of an actual infinite number, I leave him to consider, till
his infinite number be so great, that he himself can add no more
to it; and as long as he can increase it, I doubt he himself will
think the klea he hath of it, a little too scantv for positive
infinity.

160 INFINITY. Book'l.

§. 17. I think it unavoidable for every considering rational
creature, that will but examine his own, or any other, existence,
to have the notion of an eternal wise Being, who had no beginning :
and such an idea of infinite duration, I am sure I have. But
this negation of a beginning, being but the negation of a posi-
tive thing, scarce gives me a positive idea of infinity ; which
whenever I endeavour to extend my thoughts to, I confess myself
at a loss, and I find I cannot attain any clear comprehension of it.

§. 18. No positive idea of infinite space. — He that thinks he
lias a positive idea of infinite space, will, when he considers it,
find that he can no more have a positive idea of the greatest,
than he has of the least, space : for in this latter, which seems
the easier of the two, and more within our comprehension, we
are capable only of a comparative idea of smallness, which will
always be less than any one, whereof we have the positive idea.
All our positive ideas of any quantity, whether great or little,
have always bounds ; though our comparative idea, whereby
we can always add to the one, and take from the other, hath
no bounds. For that which remains either great or little, not
being comprehended in that positive idea which we have, lies in
obscurity ; and we have no other idea of it, but of the power
of enlarging the one, and diminishing the other, without ceasing.
A pestle and mortar will as soon bring any particle of matter to
indivisibility, as the acutest thought of a mathematician ; and
a surveyor may as soon, with his chain, measure out infinite space,
as a philosopher, by the quickest flight of mind, reach it ; or by
thinking, comprehend it ; which is to have a positive idea of it.
He that thinks on a cube of an inch diameter, as a clear and
positive idea of it in his mind, and so can frame one of a 2 i y,
and so on, until he has the ideas in his thoughts of something
very little ; but yet reaches not the idea of that incomprehen-
sible littleness which division can produce. What remains of
smallness, is as far from his thoughts, as when he first began ;
and, therefore, he never comes at all to have a clear and po-
sitive idea of that smallness which is consequent to infinite
divisibility.

§. 19. What is positive, what negative, in our idea of infinite
— Every one that looks towards infinity, does, as I have said, at
first glance, make some very large idea of that which he applies
it to, let it be space or duration ; and possibly he wearies his
thoughts, by multiplying in his mind that first large idea ; but
yet by that he comes no nearer to the having a positive clear
idea of what remains to make up a positive infinite, than the
country-fellow had of the water, which was yet to come, and
pass the channel of the river where he stood :

Ch. 17. INFINITY. 161

" Rusticus expectat dum transeat amnis, at illc
Labitur, et labetur in omne volubilis fevum."

§. 20. Some think they have a positive idea of eternity , and not
of infinite space. — There are some I have met with, that put so much
difference between infinite duration, and infinite space, that they
persuade themselves, that they have a positive idea of eternity ;
but that they have not, nor can have, any idea of infinite space.
The reason of which mistake, I suppose to be this : that finding by
a due contemplation of causes and effects, that it is necessary to
admit some eternal being, and so to consider the real existence
of that being, as taken up, and commensurate to, their idea of
eternity ; but on the other side, not finding it necessary, but, on
the contrary, apparently absurd, that body should be infinite,
they forwardly conclude, that they have no idea of infinite space,
because they can have no idea of infinite matter. Which conse-
quence, I conceive, is very ill collected ; because the existence
of matter is no ways necessary to the existence of space, no
more than the existence of motion, or the sun, is necessary to
duration, though duration uses to be measured by it : and I
doubt not but that a man may have the idea of 10,000 miles square,
without any body so big, as well as the idea of 10,000 years,
without any body so old. It seems as easy to me to have the
idea of space empty of body, as to think of the capacity of a
bushel without corn, or the hollow of a nutshell without a kernel
in it : it being no more necessary that there should be existing a
solid body infinitely extended, because we have an idea of the
infinity of space,' than it is necessary that the world should be
eternal, because we have an idea of infinite duration. And why
should we think our idea of infinite space requires the real
existence of matter to support it, when we find, that we have as
clear an idea of an infinite duration to come, as we have of infinite
duration past? Though, I suppose, nobody thinks it con-
ceivable, that any thing does, or has existed in that future
duration. Nor is it possible to join our idea of future duration
with present or past existence, any more than it is possible to
make the ideas of yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow, to be the
same ; or bring ages past and future together, and make them
contemporary. But if these men are of the mind that they
have clearer ideas of infinite duration, than of infinite space,
because it is past doubt, that God has existed from all eternity,
but there is no real matter co-extended with infinite space ; yet
those philosophers who are of opinion, that infinite space is
possessed by God's infinite omnipresence, as well as infinite
duration, by his eternal existence, must be allowed to have as
clear an idea of infinite space, as of infinite duration ; though

M

4(12 INFINITY. Book 2.

neither of them, I think, has any positive idea of infinity in
either case : for whatsoever positive idea a man has in his
mind of any quantity, he can repeat it, and add it to the former,
as easy as he can add together the ideas of two days or two
paces, which are positive ideas of lengths he has in his mind,
and so on, as long as he pleases : whereby, if a man had a
positive idea of infinite, either duration or space, he could add
two infinites together ; nay, make one infinite infinitely bigger
than another: absurdities too gross to be confuted.

§. 21. Supposed positive ideas of infinity, cause of mistakes.
— But yet, if after all this, there be men who persuade themselves
that they havie clear positive comprehensive ideas of infinity, it is
fit they enjoy their privilege : and I should be very glad (with
some others that I know, who acknowledge they have none such)
to be better informed by their communication. For I have been
hitherto apt to think, that the great and inextricable difficulties
which perpetually involve all discourses concerning infinity,
whether of space, duration, or divisibility, have been the certain
marks of a defect in our ideas of infinity, and the disproportion
the nature thereof has to the comprehension of our narrow
capacities. For whilst men talk and dispute of infinite space
or duration, as if they had as complete and positive ideas of
them as they have of the names they use for them, or as they
have of a yard or an hour, or any other determinate quantity, it
is no wonder if the incomprehensible nature of the thing they
discourse of, or reason about, leads them into perplexities and
contradictions ; and their minds be overlaid by an object too
large and mighty to be surveyed and managed by them.

§. 22. All these ideas from sensation and reflection. — If I have
dwelt pretty long on the consideration of duration, space, and
number ; and what arises from the contemplation of them,
infinity ; it is possibly no more than the matter requires, there
being few simple ideas, whose modes give more exercise to
the thoughts of men than these do. I pretend not to treat
of them in their full latitude : it suffices to my design, to
show how the mind receives them, such as they are, from
sensation and reflection; and how even the idea we have of
infinity, how remote soever it may seem to be from any object
of sense, or operation of our mind, has nevertheless, as all our
other ideas, its original there. Some mathematicians, perhaps,
of advanced speculations, may have other ways to introduce into
their minds ideas of infinity : but this hinders not, but that they
themselves, as well as all other men, got the first ideas which
they had of infinity, from sensation and reflection, in the method
we have here set down.

Ch. 18. OF OTHER SIMPLE MODES. 163

CHAPTER XVIII.

OF OTHER SIMPLE MODES.

§, 1. Modes of motion. — Though I have, in the foregoing
chapters, shown how from simple ideas taken in by sensation,
the mind comes to extend itself even to infinity ; which, however,
it may, of all others, seem most remote from any sensible
perception, yet at last hath nothing in it, but what is made out
of simple ideas, received into the mind by the senses, and
afterwards there put together by the faculty the mind has to
repeat its own ideas : though, I say, these might be instances
enough of simple modes of the simple ideas of sensation, and
suffice to show how the mind comes by them ; yet I shall, for
method's sake, though briefly, give an account of some few
more, and then proceed to more complex ideas.

§.2. To slide, roll, tumble, walk, creep, run, dance, leap,
skip, and abundance of others that might be named, are words
which are no sooner heard, but every one who understands
English, has presently in his mind distinct ideas, which are all
but the different modifications of motion. Modes of motion
answer those of extension : swift and slow, are two different ideas
of motion, the measures whereof are made of the distances of
time and space put together; so they are complex ideas compre-
hending time aud space with motion.

§. 3. Modes of sounds. — The like variety have we in sounds.
Every articulate word is a different modification of sound : by
which we see, that from the sense of hearing by such modifications,
the mind maybe furnished with distinct ideas, to almost an infinite
number. Sounds also, besides the distinct cries of birds and
beasts, are modified by diversity of notes of different length put
together, which make that complex ideaScalled a tune, which a
musician may have in his mind, when he hears or makes no
sounds at all, by reflecting on the ideas of those sounds, so put
together, silently in his own fancy.

§. 4. Modes of colours. — Those of colours are also very
various : some we take notice of as the different degrees, or as
they are termed, shades of the same colour. But since we very
seldom make assemblages of colours, either for use or delight,
but figure is taken in also, and has its part in it, as in painting,
weaving, needle-works, &c., those which are taken notice of, do
most commonly belong to mixed modes, as being made up of
ideas of divers kinds, viz., figure and colour, such as beauty,
rainbow, &c.

M 2

164 OF OTHER SIMPLE MODES. Book-l.

§. 5. Modes of taste. — All compounded tastes and smells,
are also modes made up of the simple ideas of those senses.
But they being such as generally we have no names for, are less
taken notice of, and cannot be set down in writing ; and,
therefore, must be left without enumeration, to the thoughts and
experience of ray reader,

§. 6. Some simple modes have no names. — In general it may be
observed, that those simple modes which are considered but as
different degrees of the same simple idea, though they are in
themselves many of them very distinct ideas ; yet have ordinarily
no distinct names, nor are much taken notice of, as distinct ideas,
where the difference is but very small between them. Whether
men have neglected these modes, and given no names to them, as
wanting measures nicely to distinguish them ; or because when
they were so distinguished, that knowledge would not be of
general or necessary use, I leave it to the thoughts of others; it
is sufficient to my purpose to show, that all our simple ideas come
to our minds only by sensation and reflection ; and that when
the mind has them, it can variously repeat and compound them,
and so make new complex ideas. But though white, red, or
sweet, &c., have not been modified, or made into complex ideas,
by several combinations, so as to be named, and thereby ranked
into species; yet some others of the simple ideas, viz., those of
imity, duration, motion, &c. above instanced in, as also power
and thinking, have been thus modified to a great variety of
complex ideas, with names belonging to them.

§. 7. Why some modes have, and others have not, names. — The
reason whereof, I suppose, has been this, that the great concern-
ment of men being with men one amongst another, the knowledge
of men and their actions, and the signifying of them to one
another, was most necessary ; and, therefore, they made ideas of
actions very nicely modified, and gave those complex ideas
names, that they migl^the more easily record and discourse of
those things they were daily conversant in, without long
ambages and circumlocutions ; and that the things they were
continually to give and receive information about, might be the
easier and quicker understood. That this is so, and that men
in framing different complex ideas, and giving them names, have
been much governed by the end of speech in general, (which
is a very short and expedite way of conveying their thoughts
one to another) is evident in the names, which in several arts
have been found out, and applied to several complex ideas of
modified actions, belonging to their several trades, for dispatch
sake, in their direction or discourses about them. Which ideas
are not generally framed in the minds of men not conversant

Ck. 19. OF THE MODES OF THINKING. 165

about these operations. And thence the words that stand for
them, by the greatest part of men of the same language, are not
understood : v. g. colshire, drilling, filtration, cohobation,
are words standing for certain complex ideas, which being
seldom in the minds of any but those few, whose particular
employments do at every turn suggest them to their thoughts,
those names of them are not generally understood but by smiths
and chymists, who having framed the complex ideas which these
words stand for, and having given names to them, or received
them from others, upon hearing of these names in communica-
tion, readily conceive those ideas in their minds ; as by
cohobation, all the simple ideas of distilling, and the pouring
the liquor distilled from any thing, back upon the remaining
matter, and distilling it again. Thus we see, that there are
great varieties of simple ideas, as of tastes and smells, which
have no names, and of modes many more : which either not
having been generally enough observed, or else not being of any
great use to be taken notice of, in the affairs and converse of
men, they have not had names given to them, and so pass not
for species. This we shall have occasion hearafter to consider
more at large, when we come to speak of words.

CHAPTER XIX.

OF THE MODES OF THINKING.

§. 1, Sensation, remembrance, contemplation, Syc. — When the
mind turns its view inwards upon itself, and contemplates its
own actions, thinking is the first that occurs. In it the mind
observes a great variety of modifications, and from thence
receives distinct ideas. Thus the perception which actually
accompanies, and is annexed to, any impression on the body,
made by an external object, being distinct from all other modi-
fications of thinking, furnishes the mind with a distinct idea,
which we call sensation ; which is, as it were, the actual
entrance of any idea into the understanding by the senses.
The same idea, when it again recurs without the operation of
the like object on the external sensory, is remembrance : if it
be sought after by the mind, and with pain and endeavour
found, and brought again in view, it is recollection : if it be
held there long under attentive consideration, it is contem-
plation : when ideas float in our mind, without any reflection or
regard of the understanding, it is that which the French call
reverie ; our language has scarce a name for it. When the

M 3

\6G OF THE MODES OF THINKING. Book2.

ideas that offer themselves (for, as I have observed in another
place, whilst we are awake, there will always be a train of ideas
succeeding one another in our minds), are taken notice of, and,
as it were, registered in the memory, it is attention : when the .
mind, with great earnestness, and of great choice, fixes its view
on any idea, considers it on all sides, and will not be called off
by the ordinary solicitation of other ideas, it is that we call in-
tention, or study ; sleep, without dreaming, is rest from all these ;
and dreaming itself, is the having of ideas (whilst the outward
senses are stopped, so that they receive not outward objects with
their usual quickness) in the mind, not suggested by any external
objects, or known occasion, nor under any choice or conduct
of the understanding at all : and whether that, which we call
extacy,benot dreaming with the eyes open. Heave to be examined.
§. 2. These are some few instances of those various modes
of thinking, which the mind may observe in itself, and so have
as distinct ideas of, as it hath of white and red, a square or a
circle. I do not pretend to enumerate them all, nor to treat at
large of this set 'of ideas, which are got from reflection : that
would be to make a volume. It suffices to my present purpose,
to have shown here, by some few examples, of what sort these
ideas are, and how the mind comes by them ; especially since I
shall have occasion hereafter to treat more at large of reasoning,
judging, volition, and knowledge, which are some of the most
considerable operations of the mind, and modes of thinking.

§. 3. The various attention of the mind in thinking. — But,
perhaps, it may not be an unpardonable digression, nor wholly
impertinent to our present design, if we reflect here upon the
different state of the mind in thinking, which those instances of
attention, reverie, and dreaming, 8lc. before-mentioned, natu-
rally enough suggest. That there are ideas, some or other, always
present in the mind of a waking man, every one's experience
convinces him ; though the mind employs itself about them
with several degrees of attention. Sometimes the mind fixes
itself with so much earnestness on the contemplation of some
objects, that it turns their ideas on all sides, remarks their
relations and circumstances, and views every part so nicely, and
with such intention, that it shuts out all other thoughts, and
takes no notice of the ordinary i2nf)ressions made then on the
senses, which at another season would produce very sensible
perceptions : at other times, it barely observes the train of ideas
that succeed in the understanding, without directing and pur-
suing any of them ; and at other times, it lets them pass almost
quite unregarded, as faint shadows that make no impression.
§. 4. Hence it is probable that thinking is the action, not

C/i. 20. MODES OF PLHASURE AND PAIN, \61

essence, of the soul. — This difference of intention and remission
of the mind in thinking, with a great variety of degrees, between
€arnest study, and very near minding nothing at all, every one,
r think, has experimented in himself. Trace it a little farther,
and you find the mind in sleep, retired as it were from the senses,
and out of the reach of those motions made on the organs of
sense, which at other times produce very vivid and sensible ideas.
I need not, for this, instance in those who sleep out whole stormy
nights, without hearing the thunder, or seeing the lightning, or
feeling the shaking of the house, which are sensible enough to
those who are waking-. But in this retirement of the mind from
the senses, it often retains a yet more loose and incoherent
manner of thinking, which we call dreaming ; and last of all,
sound sleep closes the scene quite, and puts an end to all ap-
pearances. This, I think, almost every one has experience of
in himself, and his own observation without difficulty leads him
thus far. That w^hich I would farther conclude from hence, is,
that since the mind can sensibly put on, at several times, several
degrees of thinking ; and be sometimes even in a waking man
so remiss, as to have thoughts dim and obscure to that degree,
that they are very little removed from none at all ; and at last,
in the dark retirements of sound sleep, loses the sight perfectly
of all ideas whatsoever ; since, I say, this is evidently so in
matter of fact, and constant experience, I ask, whether it be not
probable, that thinking is the action, and not the essence, of the
soul ? Since the operations of agents will easily admit of in-
tention and remission ; but the essences of things, are not con-
ceived capable of any such variation. But this by the by-

CHAPTER XX.

OF MODES OF PLEASURE AND PAIN.

§. 1. Pleasure and pain simple ideas. — Amongst the simple
ideas which we receive both from sensation and reflection, pain
and pleasure are two very considerable ones. For as in the
body, there is sensation barely in itself, or accompanied with
pain or pleasure ; so the thought, or perception of the mind, is
simply so, or else accompanied also with pleasure or pain, delight
or trouble, call it how you please. These, like other simple
ideas, cannot be described, nor their names defined ; the way
of knowing them, is, as of the simple ideas of the senses, only
by experience. For to define them by the presence of good or

M 4

168 MODES OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. Book^>.

evil, is no otherwise to make them known to us, than by makino-
us reflect on what we feel in ourselves, upon the several and
various operations of good and evil upon our minds, as they
are differently applied to, or considered by us.

§. 2. Good and evil, what. — Things then are good or evil,
only in reference to pleasure or pain. That we call good, which
is apt to cause or increase pleasure, or diminish pain in us ; or
else to procure, or preserve, us the possession of any other good,
or absence of any evil. And, on the contrary, we name that
evil, which is apt to produce or increase any pain, or diminish
any pleasure in us ; or else to procure us any evil, or deprive us
of any good. By pleasure and pain, I must be understood to
mean of body or mind, as they are commonly distinguished ;
though, in truth, they be only different constitutions of the mind,
sometimes occasioned by disorder in the body, sometimes by
thoughts of the mind.

§. 3. Our passions moved hy good and evil. — Pleasure and
pain, and that which causes them, good and evil, are the hinges
on which our passions turn ; and if we reflect on ourselves, and
observe how these, under various considerations, operate in us ;
wliat modifications or tempers of mind, what internal sensations
(if I may so call them), they produce in us, we may thence form
to ourselves the ideas of our passions.

§. 4. Love. — Thus any one reflecting upon the thought he
has of the delight which any present or absent thing is apt to
produce in him, has the idea we call love. For when a man
declares in autumn, when he is eating them, or in spring, when
there are none, that he loves grapes, it is no more but that the
taste of grapes delights him ; let an alteration of health or con-
stitution destroy the delight of their taste, and he then can be
said to love grapes no longer.

§. 5. Hatred. — On the contrary, the thought of the pain
which any thing present or absent is apt to produce in us, is
what we call hatred. Were it my business here to enquire any
farther than into the bare ideas of our passions, as they depend
on different modifications of pleasure and pain, I should remark,
that our love and hatred of inanimate insensible beings, is com-
monly founded on that pleasure and pain which we receive from
their use and application any way to our senses, though with
their destruction : but hatred or love, to beings capable of hap-
piness or misery, is often the imeasiness or delight which we
find in ourselves, arising from a consideration of their very
being or happiness. Thus the being and welfare of a man's
children or friends producing constant delight in him, he is said
constantly to love them. But it suffices to note, that our ideas

CA. 20. MODES OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. 109

of love and hatred, are but the dispositions of the mind, in
respect of pleasure and pain in general, however caused in us.

§. 6. Desire. — The uneasiness a man finds in himself upon
the absence of any thing, whose present enjoyment carries the
idea of delight with it, is that we call desire, which is greater
or less, as that uneasiness is more or less vehement. Where,
by the by, it may perhaps be of some use to remark, that the
chief, if not only spur to human industry and action, is uneasi-
ness. For whatsoever good is proposed, if its absence carries no
displeasure or pain with it; if a man be easy and content with-
out it, there is no desire of it, nor endeavour after it ; there is
no more but a bare velleity, the term used to signify the lowest
degree of desire, and that which is next to none at all, Avhen
there is so little uneasiness in the absence of any thing, that it
carries a man no farther than some faint wishes for it, without
any more effectual or vigorous use of the means to attain it.
Desire also is stopped or abated by the opinion of the impossi-
bility or unattainableness of the good proposed, as far as the
uneasiness is cured or allayed by that consideration. This
might carry our thoughts farther, were it seasonable in this
place.

§. 7. Joy. — Joy is a delight of the mind, from the considera-
tion of the present or assured approaching possession of a good;
and we are then possessed of any good, when we have it so in
our power, that we can use it when we please. Thus a man
almost starved, has joy at the arrival of relief, even before he
has the pleasure of using it : and a father, in whom the very
well-being of his children causes delight, is always, as long as
his children are in such a state, in the possession of that good ;
for he needs but to reflect on it, to have that pleasure.

§. 8. Sorrow. — Sorrow is uneasiness in the mind, upon the
thought of a good lost, which might have been enjoyed longer;
or the sense of a present evil.

§. 9. Hope. — Hope is that pleasure in the mind which every
one finds in himself, upon the thought of a profitable future en-
joyment of a thing which is apt to delight him.

§. 10. Fear. — Fear is an uneasiness of the mind, upon the
thought of future evil likely to befal us.

§. 11. Despair. — Despair is the thought of the unattain-
ableness of any good, which works differently in men's minds,
sometimes producing uneasiness or pain, sometimes rest and
indolency.

§. 12. Anger. — Anger is uneasiness or discomposure of the
mind, upon the receipt of any injury, with a present purpose of
revenge.

170 MODES OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. Bookl.

§. 13. Envy. — Envy is an uneasiness of the mind, caused by
the consideration of a good we desire, obtained by one we think
should not have had it before us.

§. 14. What passions all men have. — These two last, envy
and anger, not being caused by pain and pleasure simply in
themselves, but having in them some mixed considerations of
ourselves and others, are not, therefore, to be found in all men,
because those other parts of valuing their merits, or intending
revenge, is wanting in them : but all the rest terminating purely
in pain and pleasure, are, I think, to be found in all men. For
we love, desire, rejoice, and hope, only in respect of pleasure;
we hate, fear, and grieve, only in respect of pain ultimately : in
fine, all these passions are moved by things, only as they appear
to be the causes of pleasure and pain, or to have pleasure or
pain some way or other annexed to them. Thus we extend our
hatred usually to the subject (at least if a sensible or voluntary
agent) which has produced pain in us, because the fear it leaves
is a constant pain : but we do not so constantly love what has
done us good, because pleasure operates not so strongly on us
as pain, and because we are riot so ready to have hope it will
do so again. But this by the by.

§• 15. Pleasure and pain, what. — By pleasure and pain, de-
light and uneasiness, I must all along be understood (as I have
above intimated) to mean, not only bodily pain and pleasure,
but whatsoever delight or uneasiness is felt by us, whether
arising from any grateful or unacceptable sensation or reflection.

§. 16. It is farther to be considered, that in reference to the
passions, the removal or lessening of a pain is considered, and
operates as a pleasure : and the loss or diminishing of a pleasure,
as a pain.

§. 17. Shame. — The passions, too, have most of them in most
persons operations' on the body, and cause various changes in
it ; which not being always sensible, do not make a necessary part
of the idea of each passion. For shame, which is an uneasiness
of the mind, upon the thought of having done something which
is indecent, or will lessen the valued esteem which others have
for us, has not always blushing accompanying it.

§. 18. These instances to show how our ideas of the passions
are got from sensation and reflection. — I would not be mistaken
here, as if I meant this as a discourse of the passions ; they are
many more than those I have here named : and those I have
taken notice of, would each of them require a much larger and
more accurate discourse. I have only mentioned these here, as
so many instances of modes of pleasure and pain resulting in
our minds from various considerations of good and evil. I

Ch.<2.\. OF POWER. 171

mio-ht, perhaps, have instanced in other modes of pleasure and
pain more simple than these, as the pain of hunoer and thirst,
and the pleasure of eating and drinking to remove them ; the
pain of tender eyes, and the pleasure of music ; pain from
captious uninstructive wrangling, and the pleasure of rational
conversation with a friend, or of well directed study in the
search and discovery of truth. But the passions being of much
more concernment to us, I rather made choice to instance in
them, and show how the ideas we have of them are derived from
sensation and reflection.

CHAPTER XXI.

OF rowER.

§. 1. This idea how got.— The mind being every day in-
foi-med by the senses, of the alteration of those simple ideas it
observes in thino;s without, and taking notice how one comes to an
end and ceases to be, and another begins to exist, which was
not before ; reflecting also on what passes within itself, and ob-
serving a constant change of its ideas, sometimes by the im-
pression of outward objects on the senses, and sometimes by
the determination of its own choice ; and concluding from what
it has so constantly observed to have been, that the like changes
will for the future be made in the same things, by like agents,
and by the like ways ; considers in one thing the possibility of
having any of its simple ideas changed, and in another the pos-
sibility of making that change ; and so comes by that idea which
we call power. Thus we say, fire has a power to melt gold, i. e.
to destroy the consistency of its insensible parts, and conse-
quently its hardness, and make it fluid ; and gold has a power to
be melted : that the sun has a power to blanch wax, and wax a
power to be blanched by the sun, whereby the yellowness is
destroyed, and whiteness made to exist in its room. In which,
and the like cases, the power we consider, is in reference to the
change of perceivable ideas. For we cannot observe any altera-
tion to be made in, or operation upon, any thing, but by the ob-
servable change of its sensible ideas ; nor conceive any alteration
to be made, but by conceiving a change of some of its ideas.

§. 2. Power active and passive. — Power, thus considered, is
two-fold, viz., as able to make, or able to receive, any change ;
the one may be called active, and the other passive, power.
Whether matter be not wholly destitute of active power, as its
author, God, is truly above all passive power ; and whether the

172 OF POWEK. Book 2

intermediate state of created spirits be not that alone which is
capable of both active and passive power, may be worth consi-
deration. I shall not now enter into that enquiry, my present
business being not to search into the original of power, but how
we come by the idea of it. But since active powers make so
great a part of our complex ideas of natural substances (as we
shall see hereafter), and I mention them as such, according to
common apprehension ; yet they being not, perhaps, so truly
active powers, as our hasty thoughts are apt to re))resent them,
I judge it not amiss, by this intimation, to direct our minds to
the consideration of God and spirits, for the clearest idea of
active powers.

§. 3. Poioer includes relation. — I confess, power includes in
it some kind of relation (a relation to action or change), as, in-
deed, which of our ideas, of what kind soever, when attentively
considered, does not ? For our ideas of extension, duration, and
number, do they not all contain in them a secret relation of the
parts? Figure and motion have something relative in them
much more visibly : and sensible qualities, as colours and
smells, Slc, what are they but the powers of different bodies,
in relation to our perception ? &c. And if considered in the
things themselves, do they not depend on the bulk, figure, tex-
ture, and motion of the parts ? All which include some kind of
relation in them. Our idea, therefore, of power, I think, may
well have a place amongst other simple ideas, and be considered
as one of them, being one of those that make a principal ingre-
dient in our complex ideas of substances, as we shall hereafter
have occasion to observe.

§. 4. The clearest idea of active power had from sjnrit. — Wu
are abundantly furnished with the idea of passive power, by
almost all sorts of sensible things. In most of them we cannot
avoid observing their sensible qualities, nay, their very sub-
stances, to be in a continual flux : and, therefore, with reason
we look on them as liable still to the same change. Nor have
we of active power (which is the more proper signification of
the word power) fewer instances. Since whatever change is
observed, the mind must collect a power somewhere able to
make that change, as well as a possibility in the thing itself to
receive it. But yet, if we will consider it attentively, bodies,
by our senses, do not afford us so clear and distinct an idea of
active power, as we have from reflection on the operations of
our minds. For all power relating to action, and there being
but two sorts of action whereof we have any idea, viz., thinking
and motion, let us consider whence we have the clearest ideas
of the powers which produce these actions. 1, Of thinking,

C/t. 21. OF POWER. 173

body affords us no idea at all ; it is only from reflection that
we have that. 2, Neither have we from body any idea of the
beginning of motion. A body at rest, affords us no idea of any
active power to move ; and when it is set in motion itself, that
motion is rather a passion, than an action in it. For when the
ball obeys the stroke of a billiard-stick, it is not any action of
the ball, but bare passion : also when by impulse it sets another
ball in motion, that lay in its way, it only communicates the
motion it had received from another, and loses in itself so much
as the other received ; which gives us but a very obscure idea
of an active power of moving in body, whilst we observe it only
to transfer, but not produce, any motion. For it is but a very
obscure idea of power, which reaches not the production of the
action, but the continuation of the passion. For so is motion
in a body impelled by another ; the continuation of the altera-
tion made in it from rest to motion being little more an action,
than the continuation of the alteration of its figure by the same
blow, is an action. The idea of the beginning of motion, we
have only from reflection on what passes in ourselves, where we
find by experience, that barely by willing it, barely by a
thought of the mind, we can move the parts of our bodies which
were before at rest. So that it seems to me, we have, from the
observation of the operation of bodies by our senses, but a very
imperfect obscure idea of active power, since they afford us not
any idea in themselves of the power to begin any action, either
motion or thought. But if from the impulse bodies are observed
to make one upon another, any one thinks he has a clear idea of
power, it serves as well to my purpose, sensation being one of
those ways whereby the mind comes by its ideas : only I
thought it worth while to consider here by the way, whether the
mind doth not receive its idea of active power clearer from re-
flection on its own operations, than it doth from any external
sensation.

§. 5. Will and understanding, two powers. — This at least 1
think evident, that we find in ourselves a power to begin or
forbear, continue or end, several actions of our minds, and
motions of our bodies, barely by a thought or preference of the
mind ordering, or, as it were, commanding the doing or not
doing, such or such a particular action. This power which the
mind has thus to order the consideration of any idea, or the
forbearing to consider it; or to prefer the motion of any part,
of the body to its rest, and vice versa, in any particular instance,
is that which we call the will. The actual exercise of that
power, by directing any particular action, or its forbearance, is
that which we call volition or willmir. The forbearance of that

174 OF POWER. Book -1.

action, consequent to such order or command of the mind, is
called voluntary. And whatsoever action is performed without
such a thought of the mind, is called involuntary. The power
of perception is that which we call the understanding. Per-
ception, which w^e make the act of the understanding, is of
three sorts : 1, The perception of ideas in our minds. 2, The
perception of signification of signs. 3, The perception of the
connection or repugnancy, agreement or disagreement, that
there is between any of our ideas. All these are attributed to
the understanding, or perceptive power, though it be the two
latter only that use allows us to say we understand.

§. 6. Faculties. — These powers of the mind, viz., of per-
ceiving, and of preferring, are usually called by another name ;
and the ordinary way of speaking is, that the understanding and
will are two faculties of the mind : a word proper enough, if it
be used as all words should be, so as not to breed any confusion
in men's thoughts, by being supposed (as I suspect it has been)
to stand for some real beings in the soul, that performed those
actions of understanding and volition. For when we say, the
will is the commanding and superior faculty of the soul ; that
it is, or is not, free; that it determines the inferior faculties;
that it follows the dictates of the understanding, Sec. ; though
these and the like expressions, by those that carefully attend to
their own ideas, and conduct their thoughts more by the evidence
of things, than the sound of words, may be understood in a
clear and distinct sense ; yet I suspect, I say, that this way of
speaking of faculties has misled many into a confused notion
of so many distinct agents in us, which had their several pro-
vinces and authorities, and did command, obey, and perform,
several actions, as so many distinct beings, which has been no
small occasion of wrangling, obscurity, and uncertainty in
questions relating to them.

§. 7. Whence the ideas of liberty and necessity, — Every one,
I think, finds in himself a power to begin or forbear, continue
or put an end to, several actions in himself. From the consider-
ation of the extent of this power of the mind over the action of
the man, which every one finds in himself, arise the ideas of
liberty and necessity.

§. 8. Liberty, what. — All the actions that we have any idea
of, reducing themselves, as has been said, to these tw^o, viz.,
thinking and motion ; so far as a man has power to think, or
not to think ; to move, or not to move, according to the pre-
ference or direction of his own mind ; so far is a man free.
Wherever any performance or forbearance are not equally in a
man's power ; wherever doing, or not doing, will not equally

Ck. 21. OF POVVEK. 17u

iollow upon the preference of his mind directing it, there he is
not free, though, perhaps, the action may be voluntary. So that
the idea of liberty, is the idea of a power in any agent to do or
forbear any particular action, according to the determination or
thought of the mind, whereby either of them is preferred to the
other ; where either of them is not in the power of the agent to
be produced by him, according to his volition, there he is not at
liberty ; that agent is under necessity. So that liberty cannot
be where there is no thought, no volition, no will; but there
may be thought, there may be will, there may be volition, where
there is no liberty. A little consideration of an obvious instance
or two, may make this clear.

§. 9. Supposes the understanding and will. — A tennis-ball,
whether in motion by the stroke of a racket, or lying still at
rest, is not, by any one, taken to be a free agent. If we enquire
into the reason, we shall find it is because we conceive not a
tennis-ball to think, and consequently not to have any volition,
preference of motion to rest, or vice v>ersa ; and, therefore, has
not liberty, is not a free agent ; but all its both motion and rest,
come under our idea of necessary, and are so called. Likewise,
a man falling into the water (a bridge breaking under him), has
not herein liberty, is not a free agent. For though he has
volition, though he prefers his not falling to falling ; yet the for-
bearance of that motion not being in his power, the stop or ces-
sation of that motion follows not upon his volition ; and, there-
fore, therein he is not free. So a man striking himself, or his
friend, by a compulsive motion of his ann, which it is not in his
power, by volition, or the direction of his mind, to stop, or
forbear; nobody thinks he has, in this, liberty; every one
pities him, as acting by necessity and constraint.

§. 10. Belongs not to volition. — Again, suppose a man be
carried, whilst fast asleep, into a room, where is a person he
longs to see and speak with; and be there locked fast in,
beyond his power to get out ; he awakes, and is glad to find
himself in so desirable company, which he stays willingly in,
1. e. prefers his stay to going array. I ask, is not this stay
voluntary? I think nobody will doubt it; and yet, being
locked fast in, it is evident he is not at liberty not to stay, he
has not freedom to be gone. So that liberty is not an idea
belonging to volition, or preferring, but to the person having
the power of doing, or forbearing to do, according as the mind
shall choose or direct. Our idea of liberty reaches as far as
that power, and no farther. For wherever restraint comes to
check that power, or compulsion takes away that indifferency of

176 OF POWER. Book2.

ability on either side, to act, or to forbear acting, there liberty,
and our notion of it, presently ceases.

§. 11. Voluntary opposed to involuntary, not to necessary. —
We have instances enough, and often more than enough, in our
own bodies. A man's heart beats, and the blood circulates,
which it is not in his power, by any thought or volition, to stop ;
and, therefore, in respect to these motions, where rest depends
not on his choice, nor would follow the determination of his
mind, if it should prefer it, he is not a free agent. Convulsive
motions agitate his legs, so that though he wills it ever so
much, he cannot, by any power of his mind, stop their motion
(as in that odd disease called chorea sancti viti), but he is
perpetually dancing ; he is not at liberty in this action, but
under as much necessity of moving, as a stone that falls, or a
tennis-ball struck with a racket. On the other side, a palsy or
the stocks hinder his legs from obeying the determination of
his mind, if it would, thereby, transfer his body to another
place. In all these there is want of freedom, though the sitting-
still even of a paralytic, whilst he prefers it to a removal, is truly
voluntary. Voluntary then is not opposed to necessary, but to
involuntary. For a man may prefer what he can do, to what
he cannot do ; the state he is in, to its absence or change, though
necessity has made it, in itself, unalterable.

§. 12. Liberty, what. — As it is in the motions of the body, so
it is in the thoughts of our minds ; where any one is such, that
we have power to take it up, or lay it by, according- to the pre-
ference of the mind, there we are at liberty. A waking man
being under the necessity of having some ideas constantly in
his mind, is not at liberty to think, or not to think, no more
than he is at liberty whether his body shall touch any other
or no ; but whether he will remove his contemplation from one
idea to another, is many times in his choice ; and then he is, in
respect of his ideas, as much at liberty, as he is in respect of
bodies he rests on : he can, at pleasure, remove himself from one
to another. But yet some ideas to the mind, like some motions
to the body, are such, as in certain circumstances, it cannot
avoid, nor obtain their absence by the utmost effort it can use.
A man on the rack is not at liberty to lay by the idea of pain,
and divert himself with other contemplations ; and sometimes a
boisterous passion hurries our thoughts, as a hurricane does our
bodies, without leaving us the liberty of thinking on other
things, which we would rather choose. But as soon as the mind
regains the power to stop or continue, begin or forbear, any of
these motions of the body without, or thoughts within, according

Ch. 21. OF POWER. 177

as it thinks fit to prefer either to the other, we then consider the
man as a free agent again.

§. 13. Necessity, xohat. — Wherever thought is only wanting,
or the power to act or forbear, according to the direction of
thought, there necessity takes places. This, in an agent capable
of volition, when the beginning or continuation of any action is
contrary to that preference of his mind, is called compulsion ;
when the hindering or stopping any action is contrary to his
volition, it is called restraint. Agents that have no thought, no
volition at all, are, in every thing, necessary agents.

§. 14. Liberty belongs not to the wilL—W this be so (as I
imagine it is), I leave it to be considered, whether it may not
help to put an end to that long agitated, and, I think, unreason-
able, because unintelligible, question, viz., whether man's will be
free or no ? For if I mistake not, it follows, from what I have
said, that the question itself is altogether improper; and it is as
insignificant to ask whether man's will be free, as to ask, whether
his sleep be swift, or his virtue square ; liberty being as little
applicable to the will, as swiftness of motion is to sleep, or
squareness to virtue. Every one would laugh at the absurdity
of such a question as either of these ; because it is obvious,
that the modifications of motion belong not to sleep, nor the
difference of figure to virtue; and when any one well considers
it, I think he will as plainly perceive, that liberty, which is but
a power, belongs only to agents, and cannot be an attribute or
modification of the will, which is also but a power.

§. 15. Volition.— ^nch is the difficulty of explaining and
giving clear notions of internal actions by sounds, that I must
here warn my reader, that ordering, directing, choosing, pre-
ferring, &c., which I have made use of, will not distinctly enough
express volition, unless he will reflect on what he himself does,
when he wills. For example, preferring, which seems perhaps
best to express the act of volition, does it not precisely. For
though a man would prefer flying to walking, yet who can say
he ever wills it? Volition, it is plain, is an act of the mind,
knowingly exerting that dominion it takes itself to have over
any part of the man, by employing it in, or withholding it from,
any particular action. And what is the will, but the faculty to do
this ? And is that faculty any thing more in effect than a power,
the power of the mind to determine its thoughts, to the pro-
ducing, continuing, or stopping any action, as far as it depends
on us ? For can it be denied, that whatever agent has a power
to think on its own actions, and to prefer their doing or omission
either to other, has that faculty called will ? Will then is nothing
but such a power. Liberty, on the other side, is the power a

N

178 OF POWER. Booh 2.

man has to do or forbear doing- any particular action, according
as its doing or forbearance has the actual preference in the
mind, which is the same thing as to say, according as he himself
wills it.

§. 16. Powers belonging to agents. — It is plain then, that the
will is nothing but one power or ability, and freedom another
power or ability ; so that to ask, whether the will has freedom ?
is to ask, whether one power has another power, one ability
another ability ? a question at first sight too grossly absurd to
make a dispute, or need an answer. For who is it that sees not
that powers belong only to agents, and are attributes only of
substances, and not of powers themselves ? so that this way of
putting the question, viz., whether the will be free ? is, in effect,
to ask, whether the will be a substance, an agent ? or at least
to suppose it, since freedom can properly be attributed to nothing
else. If freedom can, with any propriety of speech, be applied to
power, it may be attributed to the power that is in a man to
produce, or forbear producing, motion in parts of his body, by
choice or preference ; which is that which denominates him free,
and is freedom itself. But if any one should ask, whether
freedom were free, he would be suspected not to understand well
what he said ; and he would be thought to deserve Midas's ears,
who knowing that rich was a denomination for the posses-
sion of riches, should demand whether riches themselves were
rich.

§. 17. However, the name faculty, which men have given to
this power called the will, and whereby they have been led into
a way of talking of the will as acting, may, by an appropriation
that disguises its true sense, serve a little to palliate the absur-
dity ; yet the will, in truth, signifies nothing but a power or
ability to prefer or choose ; and when the will, under the name
of a faculty, is considered, as it is, barely as an ability to do
something, the absurdity in saying it is free, or not free, will
easily discover itself. For if it be reasonable to suppose and
talk of faculties, as distinct beings, that can act (as we do, when
we say the will orders, and the will is free), it is fit that we
should make a speaking faculty, and a walking faculty, and a
dancing faculty, by which those actions are produced, which are
but several modes of motion ; as well as we make the will and
understanding to be faculties, by which the actions of choosing
and perceiving are produced, which are but several modes of
thinking ; and we may as properly say, that it is the singing
faculty sings, and the dancing faculty dances, as that the will
chooses, or that the understanding- conceives : or, as is usual,
that the will directs the understanding, or the understanding

Ch.2\. OF POWER. 179

obeys, or obeys not, the will ; it being altogether as proper and
intelligible to say, that the power of speaking directs the power
of singing, or the power of singing obeys, or disobeys, the power
of speaking.

§. 18. This way of talking, nevertheless, has prevailed, and,
as I guess, produced great confusion. For these being all
different powers in the mind, or in the man, to do several actions,
he exerts them as he thinks fit ; but the power to do one action,
is not operated on by the power of doing another action. For
the power of thinking, operates not on the power of choosing ;
nor the power of choosing, on the power of thinking ; no more
than the power of dancing operates on the power of singing ; or
the power of singing on the power of dancing, as any one who
reflects on it will easily perceive ; and yet this is it, which we
say, when we thus speak, that the will operates on the under-
standing, or the understanding on the will.

§, 19. I grant, that this or that actual thought may be the
occasion of volition, or exercising the power a man has to
choose ; or the actual choice of the mind, the cause of actual
thinking on this or that thing ; as the actual singing of such
a tune, may be the cause of dancing such a dance ; and the
actual dancing of such a dance, the occasion of singing such a
tune. But in all these, it is not one power that operates on
another; but it is the mind that operates and exerts these
powers ; it is the man that does the action, it is the agent that
has power, or is able, to do. For powers are relations, not
agents ; and that which has, the power, or not the power, to
operate, is that alone which is, or is not, free, and not the power
itself; for freedom, or not freedom, can belong to nothing but
what has, or has not, a power to act.

§. 20. Libert}/ belongs not to the will. — The attributing to fa-
culties that which belonged not to them, has aiven occasion to
this way of talking; but the introducing into discourses con-
cerning the mind, with the name of faculties, a notion of their
operating, has, I suppose, as little advanced our knowledge in that
part of ourselves, as the great use and mention of the like inven-
tion of faculties, in the operations of the body, has helped us in
the knowledge of physic . Not that I deny there are faculties, both
in the body and mind ; they both of them have their powers of ope-
rating, else neither the one nor the other could operate. For
nothing can operate, that is not able to operate ; and that is not
able to operate, that has no power to operate. Nor do I deny, that
those words, and the like, are to have their place in the common use
of languages that have made them current. It looks like too much
affectation wholly to lay them by; and philosophy itself, though

n" 2

180 OF POWER. Bookl.

it likes not a gaudy dress, yet, when it appears in public, must
have so much complacency, as to be clothed in the ordinary
fashion and language of the country, so far as it can consist
with truth and pe/spicuity. But the fault has been, that facul-
ties have been spoken of, and represented, as so many distinct
agents. For it being asked, what it was that digested the meat
in our stomachs ? It was a ready and very satisfactory answer,
to say, that it was the digestive faculty. What was it that
made any thing come out of the body ? The expulsive faculty.
What moved ? The motive faculty ; and so in the mind, the
intellectual faculty, or the understanding understood ; and the
elective faculty, or the will, willed or commanded. This is, in
short, to say, that the ability to digest, digested ; and the ability
to move, moved ; and the ability to understand, understood.
For faculty, ability, and power, I think, are but different names
of the same things ; which ways of speaking, when put into
more intelligible words, \\\\\, I think, amount to thus much ;
that digestion is performed by something that is able to digest ;
motion, by something able to move ; and understanding, by
something able to understand. And, in truth, it would be very
strange, if it should be otherwise ; as strange as it would be for
a man to be free, without being able to be free.

§. 21. But to the afjent or jnan. — To return then to the
enquiry about liberty, I think the question is not proper, whether
the will be free, but whether a man be free. Thus I think :

First, That so far as any one can, by the direction or choice
of his mind, preferring the existence of any action to the non-ex-
istence of that action, and vice versa, make it to exist, or not exist,
so far he is free. For if I can, by a thought, directing the motion
of mv finger, make it move when it was at rest, or vice versa,
it is evident, that in respect of that, I am free ; and if I can, by
a light thought of my mind, preferring one to the other, produce
either words or silence, I am at liberty to speak, or hold my
peace ; and as far as this power reaches, of acting, or not acting,
by the determination of his own thought preferring either, so far
is a man free. For how can we think any one freer, than to have
the power to do what he will ? And so far as any one can, by
preferring any action to its not being, or rest to any action, pro-
duce that action or rest, so far can he do what he will. For such
a preferring of action to its absence, is the willing of it ; and we
can scarce tell how to imagine any being freer, than to be able to
do what he wills.': So that in respect of actions, within the reach
of sueh a power in him, a man seems as free as it is possible
for freedom to make him.

§. 22. In respect of tvilHng, a man is not free. — But the in-

CA.21. OF POWER. 181

quisitive mind of man, willing to shift oft' from himself, as far as
he can, all thoughts of guilt, though it be by putting himself
into a worse state than that of fatal necessity, is not content with
this : freedom, unless it reaches farther than this, will not serve
the turn ; and it passes for a good plea, that a man is not free at
all, jf he be not as free to will, as he is to act what he wills.
Concerning a man's liberty, there yet, therefore, is raised this
farther question, whether a man be free to will ? which, I think,
is what is meant when it is disputed, whether the will be free.
And as to that I imagine,

§. 23. Secondly, That willing, or volition, being an action, and
freedom consisting in a power of acting, or not acting, a man, in
respect of willing, or the act of volition, when any action in his
power is once proposed to his thoughts, as presently to be done,
cannot be free. The reason whereof, is very manifest; for it
being unavoidable that the action depending on his will, should
exist, or not exist ; and its existence, or not existence, fol-
lowing perfectly the determination and preference of his will,
he cannot avoid willing the existence, or not-existence, of that
action; it is absolutely necessary that he will the one, or the
ether, i. e. prefer the one to the other, since one of them must
necessarily follow ; and that which does follow, follows by the
choice and determination of his mind, that is, by his willing it ;
for if he did not will it, it would not be. So that in respect of
the act of willing, a man, in such a case, is not free ; liberty
consisting in a power to act, or not to act, which, in regard of
volition, a man, upon such a proposal, has not. For it is una-
voidably necessary to prefer the doing or forbearance of an
action in a man's power, which is once so proposed to his
thoughts ; a man must necessarily will the one or the other of
them, upon which preference or volition, the action, or its for-
bearance, certainly follows, and is truly voluntary ; but the act
of volition, or preferring one of the two, being that which he
cannot avoid, a man, in respect of that act of willing, is under a
necessity, and so cannot be free ; unless necessity and freedom
can consist together, and a man can be free and bound at once.

§. 24. This then is evident, that in all proposals of present
action, a man is not at liberty to will, or not to will, because
he cannot forbear willing ; liberty consisting in a power to act,
or to forbear acting, and in that only. For a man that sits still, is
said yet to be at liberty, because he can walk if he wills it. But
if a man sitting still, has not a power to remove himself, he is
not at liberty ; so likewise, a man's falling down a precipice,
though in motion, is not at liberty, because he cannot stop that
motion if he would. This being so, it is plain that a man that

N 3

182 OF POWER. Bdok I.

is walking, to whom it is proposed to give ofi walking, is not at
liberty, whether he will determine himself to walk, or give ofF
walking, or no : he must necessarily prefer one or the other of
them, walking, or not walking ; and so it is in regard of all
other actions in our power so proposed, which are the far greater
number. For considering the vast number of voluntary actions
that succeed one another every moment that we are awake, in
the course of our lives, there are but few of them that are
thought on, or proposed to the will, until the time they are to
be done : and in all such actions, as I have shown, the mind, in
respect of willing, has not a power to act, or not to act, wherein
consists liberty : the mind, in that case, has not a power to for-
bear willing ; it cannot avoid some determination concerning
them, let the consideration be as short, the thought as quick, as
it will ; it either leaves the man in the state he was before
thinking, or changes it ; continues the action, or puts an end to
it. Whereby it is manifest, that it orders and directs one in
preference to, or with neglect of, the other, and thereby either
the continuation or change becomes unavoidably voluntary.

§. 25. The will determined hy something without it. — Since
then it is plain that in most cases a man is not at liberty,
whether he will will, or no ; the next thing demanded is, whether
a man be at liberty to will which of the two he pleases, motion
or rest ."* This question carries the absurdity of it so manifestly
in itself, that one might thereby sufficiently be convinced, that
liberty concerns not the will. For to ask, whether a man be at
liberty to will either motion or rest, speaking or silence, which
he pleases, is to ask, whether a man can will what he wills, or
be pleased with what he is pleased with ? A question which I
think needs no answer ; and they who can make a question of
it, must suppose one will to determine the acts of another, and
another to determine that ; and so on in infinitum.

\. 26. To avoid these and the like absurdities, nothing can
be of greater use, than to establish in our minds determined
ideas of the things under consideration. If the ideas of liberty
and volition were well fixed in our understandings, and carried
along with us in our minds, as they ought, through all the
questions that are raised about them, I suppose a great part of
the difficulties that perplex men's thoughts, and entangle their
understandings, would be much easier resolved ; and we should
perceive where the confused signification of terms, or where the
nature of the thing, caused the obscurity.

§. 27. Freedom. — First, then, it is carefully to be remem-
bered, that freedom consists in the dependance of the existence,
or not existence, of any action, upon our volition of it ; and not
in the dependance of any action, or its contrary, on our pre-

Ch. 21. OF POWER. 183.

ference. A man standing on a cliff, is at liberty to leap twenty
yards downwards into the sea ; not because he has a power to
do the contrary action, which is to leap twenty yards upwards,
for that he cannot do : but he is therefore free, because he has
a power to leap, or not to leap. But if a greater force than
his, either holds him fast, or tumbles him down, he is no longer
free in that case : because the doing, or forbearance, of that
particular action, i,s no longer in his power. He that is a close
prisoner in a room twenty feet square, being at the north side
of his chamber, is at liberty to walk twenty feet southward,
because he can walk, or not walk it ; but is not at the same
time at liberty to do the contrary, i. e. to walk twenty feet:
northward.

In this then consists freedom, viz., in our being able to act,
or not to act, according as we shall choose or will.

§. 28. Volition, what.— Secondly, We must remember, that
volition, or willing, is an act of the mind directing its thought
to the production of any action, and thereby exerting its power
to produce it. To avoid multiplying of words, I would crave
leave here, under the word action, to comprehend the forbear-
ance too of any action proposed ; sitting still, or holding one's
peace, when walking or speaking are proposed, though mere
forbearances requiring as much the determination of the will,
and being as often weighty in their consequences, as the con-
trary actions, may, on that consideration, well enough pass for
actions too : but this I say, that I may not be mistaken, if, for
brevity's sake, I speak thus.

§. 29. What determines the will. — Thirdly, The will being
nothing but a power in the mind to direct the operative faculties
of man to motion or rest, as far as they depend on such direc-
tion : to the question, what is it determines the will ? The
true and proper answer is, the mind. For that which determines
the general power of directing to this or that particular direction,
is nothing but the agent itself exercising the power it has that
particular way. If this answer satisfies not, it is plain the
meaning of the question, what determines the will ? is this,
what moves the mind in every particular instance, to determine
its general power of directing to this or that particular motion
or rest ? And to this, I answer, the motive for continuing in the
same state or action, is only the present satisfaction in it : the
motive to change, is always some uneasiness : nothing setting
us upon the change of state, or upon any new action, but some
uneasiness. This is the great motive that works on the mind,
to put it upon action, which, for .shortness sake, we will call
determining of the will, which I shall more at large explain.

N 4

184 OF POWER. Book 2.

§. 30. Will and desire must not he confounded. — But in the
way to it, it will be necessary to premise, that though I have
above endeavoured to express the act of volition, by choosing,
preferring, and the like terms, that signify desire, as well as
volition, for want of other words to mark that act of the mind^
whose proper name is willing, or volition ; yet it being a very
simple act, whosoever desires to understand what it is, will better
find it, by reflecting on his own mind, and observing what it
does when it wills, than by any variety of articulate sounds
whatsoever. This caution of being careful not to be mis-
led by expressions that do not enough keep up the differ-
ence between the will and several acts of the mind that are
quite distinct from it, I think the more necessary ; because I
find the will often confounded with several of the affections,
especially desire; and one put for the other, and that by men
who would not willingly be thought not to have had very dis-
tinct notions of things, and not to have writ very clearly about
them. This, I imagine, has been no small occasion of obscurity
and mistake in this mutter, and therefore is, as much as may be,
to be avoided. For he that shall turn his thoughts inwards
upon what passes in his mind when lie wills, shall see that the
will or power of volition is«conversant about nothing but that
particular determination of the mind, whereby, barely by a
thought, the mind endeavours to give rise, continuation, or stop,
to any action which it takes to be in its power. This, well con-
sidered, plainly shows that the will is perfectly distinguished
from desire, which, in the very same action, may have a quite
contrary tendency from that which our wills sets us upon. A
man, whom I cannot deny, may oblige me to use persuasions to
another, which, at the same time I am speaking, I may wish
may not prevail on him. In this case, it is plain, the will and
desire run counter. I will the action that tends one way, whilst
my desire tends another, and that the direct contrary way.
A man, who, by a violent fit of the gout in his limbs, finds a
doziness in his head, or a want of appetite in his stomach,
removed, desires to be eased too of the pain of his feet or hands
(for wherever there is pain, there is a desire to be rid of it),
though yet, whilst he apprehends that the removal of the pain
may translate the noxious humour to a more vital part, his will
is never determined to any one action that may serve to remove
this pain. Whence it is evident, that desiring and willing are
two distinct acts of the mind ; and consequently that the will,
which is but the power of volition, is much more distinct from
desire.

§.31. Uneasiness determines the will. — To return then to the

Ch. 21. OF POWER. 185

enquiry, what is it that xletermines the will in regard to our
actions ? And that, upon second thoughts, I am apt to imagine
is not, as is generally supposed, the greater good in view; but
some (and for the most part the most pressing) uneasiness a man
is at present under. This is that which successively determines
the will, and sets us upon those actions we perform. This un-
easiness we may call, as it is, desire, which is an uneasiness of
the mind, for want of some absent good. All pain of the body,
of what sort soever, and disquiet of the mind, is uneasiness :
and with this is always joined desire, equal to the pain or un-
easiness felt ; and is scarce distinguishable from it. For desire
being nothing but an uneasiness in the want of an absent good,
in reference to any pain felt, ease is that absent good ; and until
that ease be attained, we may call it desire, nobody feeling
pain, that he wishes not to be eased of, with a desire equal to
that pain, and inseparable from it. Besides this desire of ease
from pain, there is another, of absent positive good, and here
also the desire and uneasiness are equal. As much as we desire
any absent good, so much are we in pain for it. But here all
absent good does not, according to the greatness it has, or is
acknowledged to have, cause pain equal to that greatness ; as all
pain causes desire equal to itself: because the absence of good
is not always a pain, as the presence of pain is. And, therefore,
absent good may be looked on, and considered, without desire.
But so much as there is any where of desire, so much there is
of uneasiness.

§. 32. Desire is uneasiness. — That desire is a state of un-
easiness, every one w^ho reflects on himself, will quickly find.
Who is there that has not felt in desire, what the wise man says
of hope (which is not much different from it), that " it being-
deferred, makes the heart sick ;" and that still proportionable to-
the greatness of the desire, which sometimes raises the uneasi-
ness to that pitch, that it makes people cry out, give me chil-
dren, give me the thing desired, or I die ! Life itself, and all
its enjoyments, is a burden cannot be borne under the lasting^
and unremoved pressure of such an uneasiness.

§. 33. The uneasiness of desire determines the will. — Good and
evil, present and absent, it is true, work upon the mind ; but
that which immediately determines the will, from time to time^
to every voluntary action, is the uneasiness of desire, fixed on
some absent good, either negative, as indolency to one in pain ;
or positive, as enjoyment of pleasure. That it is this uneasiness
that determines the will to the successive voluntary actions,
whereof the greatest part of our lives is made up, and by which we
are conducted through different courses to different ends, I shall

18« OF POWER. Book2.

endeavour to show both. from experience, and the reason of the
thine^.

§. 34. This is the spring of action. — When a man is perfectly
content with the state he is in, which is, when he is perfectly
without any uneasiness, what industry, what action, what will, is
there left, but to continue in it ? Of this every man's observation
will satisfy him. And thus we see our all-wise Maker, suitable
to our constitution and frame, and knowino; what it is that
determines the will, has put into man the uneasiness of hunger
and thirst, and other natural desires, that return at their seasons, •
to move and determine their wills, for the preservation of them-
selves, and the continuation of -tjieir species. For I think we
may conclude, that if the bare contemplation of these good ends,
to which we are carried by these several uneasinesses, had been
sufficient to determine the will, and set us on work, we should
have had none of these natural pains, and perhaps in this world,
little or no pain at all. " It is better to marry than to burn,"
says St. Paul ; where we may see what it is that chiefly drives
men into the enjoyments of a conjugal life. A little burning
felt, pushes us more powerfully, than greater pleasures in
prospect draw or allure.

§. 35. The greatest positive good determines not the will, hut
uneasiness. — It seems so established and settled a maxim by
the general consent of all mankind, that good, the greater good,
determines the will, that I do not at all wonder, that when I
first published my thoughts on this subject, I took it for granted ;
and I imagine, that by a great many I shall be thought more
excusable, for having then done so, than that now I have ven-
tured to recede from so received an opinion. But yet, upon a
stricter enquiry, I am forced to conclude, that good, the greater
good, though apprehended and acknowledged to be so, does not
determine the will, until our desire, raised proportionably to it,
makes us uneasy in the want of it. Convince a man ever so
much, that plenty has an advantage over poverty ; make him
see and own, that the handsome conveniences of life are better
than nasty penury ; yet as long as he is content with the latter,
and finds no uneasiness in it, he moves not ; his will never is
determined to any action that shall bring him out of it. Let a
man be ever so well persuaded of the advantages of virtue, that
it is as necessary to a man who has any great aims in this world,
or hopes in the next, as food to life ; yet until he hungers and
thirsts after righteousness, until he feels an uneasiness in the
want of it, his will will not be determined to any action in
pursuit of this confessed greater good ; but any other uneasi-
ness he feels in himself, shall take place, and carry his will to

Ch. -21. OF POWER. 187

other actions. On the other side, let a drunkard see that his
health decays, his estate wastes ; discredit and diseases, and the
want of all things, even of his beloved drink, attends him in the
course he follows ; yet the returns of uneasiness to miss his
companions, the habitual thirst after his cups at the usual time,
drives him to the tavern, though he has in his view the loss of
health and plenty, and perhaps of the joys of another life ; tlie
least of which is no inconsiderable good, but such as he con-
fesses, is far greater than the tickling of his palate with a glass
of wine, or the idle chat of a soaking club. It is not want
of viewing the greater good ; for he sees, and acknowledges, it,
and in the intervals of his drinking hours, will take resolution
to pursue the greater good ; but when the uneasiness to miss his
accustomed delight returns, the greater acknowledged good
loses its hold, and the present uneasiness determines the will to
the accustomed action ; which thereby gets stronger footing
to prevail against the next occasion, though he, at the same time,
makes secret promises to himself, that he will do so no more ;
this is the last time he will act against the attainment of those
greater goods. And thus he is, from time to time, in the state
of that unhappy complainer. Video meliora prohoque, deteriora
sequor : which sentence, allowed for true, and made good by
constant experience, may this, and possibly no other, way, be
easily made intelligible.

§. 36. Because the removal of uneusiness is the first step to
happiness. — If we enquire into the reason of what experience
makes so evident in fact, and examine why it is uneasiness alone
operates on the will, and determines it in his choice, we shall
find, that we being capable but of one determination of the will
to one action at once, the present uneasiness that we are under,
does naturally determine the will, in order to that happiness
which we all aim at in all our actions ; forasmuch, as whilst we
are under any uneasiness, we cannot apprehend ourselves happy,
or in the way to it : pain and uneasiness being, by eveiy one,
concluded, and felt to be inconsistent with happiness ; spoiling
the relish even of those good things which we have : a little
pain serving to mar all the pleasure we rejoiced in. And, there-
fore, that which of course determines the choice of our will to
the next action, will always be the removing of pain, as long as
we have any left, as the first and necessary step towards
happiness.

§. 37. Because uneasiness alone is present. — Another reason
why it is uneasiness alone determines the will, may be this :
because that alone is present, and it is against the nature of
things, that what is absent should operate where it is not. It

188 OF POWER. Book 2.

may be said, that absent good may, by contemplation, be brought
iiome to the mind, and made present. The idea of it indeed
may be in the mind, and viewed as present there: but nothing
will be in the mind as a present good, able to counter-balance
the removal of any uneasiness which we are under, till it raises
our desire, and the uneasiness of that has the prevalency in
determining the will. Till then, the idea in the mind of
whatever good, is there only, like other ideas, the object of bare
inactive speculation ; but operates not on the will, nor sets us
on work : the reason whereof I shall show by and by. How
many are to be found, that have had lively representations set
before their minds of the unspeakable joys of heaven, which
they acknowledge both possible and probable too, who yet
would be content to take up with their happiness here ? and so
the prevailing uneasiness of their desires, let loose after the
enjoyments of this life, take their turns in the determining their
wills, and all that while they take not one step, are not one jot
moved, towards the good things of another life, considered as
ever so great.

§.38. Because all who allow the joys of heaven jjossible, pursue
ihein not. — Were the will determined by the views of good, as
it appears in contemplation greater or less to the understanding,
which is the state of all absent good, and that which in the
received Opinion the will is supposed to move to, and to be
moved by, I do not see how it could ever get loose from the
infinite eternal joys of heaven, once proposed and considered as
possible. For all absent good, by which alone barely proposed,
and coming in view, the will is thought to be determined, and
so to set us on action, being only possible, but not infallibly
certain, it is unavoidable, that the infinitely greater possible
good, should regularly and constantly determine the will in all
the successive actions it directs ; and then we should keep
constantly and steadily in our course tow^ards heaven, without
ever standing still, or directing our actions to any other end :
the eternal condition of a future state, infinitely outweighing the
expectation of riches or honour, or any other worldly pleasure,
which we can propose to ourselves, though we should grant
these the more probable to be attained : for nothing future is
yet in possession, and so the expectation even of these may
deceive us. If it were so, that the greater good in view
determines the will, so great a good once proposed, could not
but seize the will, and hold it fast to the pursuit of this infinitely
greatest good, without ever letting it go again : for the will
having a power over, and directing, the thoughts as well as other
actions, would, if it were so, hold the contemplation of the mind
fixed to that trood.

Ch. 21. OF POWER. 180

But any great uneasiness is never neglected. — This would be
the state of the mind, and regular tendency of the will in all its
determinations, were it determined by that which is considered,
and in view, the greater good; but that it is not so, is visible in
experience. The infinitely greatest confessed good, being often
neglected to satisfy the successive uneasiness of our desires
pursuing trifles. But though the greatest allowed, even ever-
lasting unspeakable good, which has sometimes moved, and
affected the mind, does not steadfastly hold the will, yet we see
any very great and prevailing uneasiness, having once laid hold
on the will, lets it not go ; by which we may be convinced, what
it is that determines the will. Thus any vehement pain of the
body ; the ungovernable passion of a man violently in love ; or
the impatient desire of revenge, keeps the will steady and intent:
and the will thus determined, never lets the understanding lay
by the object, but all the thoughts of the mind, and powers of
the body, are uninterruptedly employed that way, by the
determination of the will, influenced by that topping uneasiness,
as long as it lasts; whereby it seems to me evident, that the
will, or power, of setting us upon one action in preference to all
others, is determined in us by uneasiness : and whether this be
not so, I desire every one to observe in himself.

§. 39. Desire accompanies all uneasiness. — I have hitherto
chiefly instanced in the uneasiness of desire, as that which
determines the will : because that is the chief, and most sensible;
and the will seldom orders any action, nor is there any voluntary
action performed, without some desire accompanying it; which,
I think, is the reason why the will and desire are so often
confounded. But yet we are not to look upon the uneasiness
which makes up, or at least accompanies, most of the other
passions, as wholly excluded in the case. Aversion, fear, anger,
envy, shame, &c., have each their uneasiness too, and thereby
influence the will. These passions are scarce any of them
in life and practice, simple and alone, and wholly unmixed
with others ; though usually in discourse and contemplation,
that carries the name, which operates strongest, and appears
most in the present state of the mind. Nay, there is, I think,
scarce any of the passions to be found without desire joined
with it. I am sure, wherever there is uneasiness, there is desire :
for we constantly desire happiness ; and whatever we feel of
uneasiness, so much, it is certain, we want of happiness, even in
our own opinion, let our state and condition otherwise be what
it will. Besides, the present moment not being our eternitj%
whatever our enjoyment be, we look beyond the present, and
■desire goes with our foresight, and that still carries the will with

190 OF POWER. Book '2.

it. So that even in joy itself, tliat which keeps up the action,
whereon the enjoyment depends, is the desire to continue it, and
fear to lose it ; and whenever a greater uneasiness than that
takes place in the mind, the will presently is by that determined
to some new action, and the present delight neglected.

§. 40. The most pressing uneasiness naturally determines the
will. — But we being in this world beset with sundry uneasinesses,
distracted with different desires, the next enquiry naturally will
be, which of them has the precedency in determining the will
to the next action ? and to that the answer is, that, ordinarily,
which is the most pressing of those that are judged capable of
being then removed. For the will being the power of directing
our operative faculties to some action, for some end, cannot, at
any time, be moved towards what is judged, at that time, unat-
tainable ; that would be to suppose an intelligent being design-
edly to act for an end, only to lose its labour ; for so it is to act
for what is judged not attainable ; and, therefore, very great
uneasinesses move not the will, when they are judged not
capable of a cure ; they, in that case, put us not upon endea-
vours. But these set apart the most important and urgent
uneasiness we at that time feel, is that which ordinarily deter-
mines the will, successively, in that train of voluntary actions
which make up our lives. The greatest present uneasiness, is
the spur to action that is constantly felt, and, for the most part,
determines the will in its choice of the next action. For this
we must carry along with us, that the proper and only object of
the will, is some action of ours, and nothing else. For we
produce nothing by our willing it, but some action in our
power, it is there the will terminated, and reaches no farther.

§. 41. All desire happiness. — If it be farther asked, what it is
moves desire ? I answer, happiness, and that alone. Happiness
and misery are the names of two extremes, the utmost bounds
whereof we know not ; it is what " eye hath not seen, ear not
heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive."
But of some degrees of both, we have very lively impressions
made by several instances of delight and joy on the one side,
and torment and sorrow on the other ; which, for shortness
sake, I shall comprehend under the names of pleasure and pain,
there being pleasure and pain of the mind as well as the body ;
" with him is fulness of joy, and pleasure for evermore." Or,
to speak truly, they are all of the mind ; though some have
their rise in the mind from thought, others in the body, from
certain modifications of motion.

§. 42. Happiness, what. — Happiness then in its full extent, is
the utmost pleasure we are capable of; and misery the utmost

Ch. 21. OF POWER. 191

pain : and the lowest degree of what can be called happiness, is
so much ease from all pain, and so much present pleasure, as
without which, any one cannot be content. Now because
pleasure and pain are produced in us by the operation of cer-
tain objects, either on our minds or our bodies, and in different
degrees ; therefore what has an aptness to produce pleasure in
us, is that we call good, and what is apt to produce pain in us,
we call evil, for no other reason, but for its aptness to produce
pleasure and pain in us, wherein consists our happiness and
misery. Farther, though what is apt to produce any degree of
pleasure be in itself good ; and what is apt to produce any degree
of pain, be evil ; yet it often happens, that we do not call it so,
when it comes in competition with a greater of its sort ; because
when they come in competition, the degrees also of pleasure and
pain have justly a preference. So that if Ave will rightly esti-
mate what we call good and evil, we shall find it lies much in
comparison : for the cause of every less degree of pain, as well
as every greater degree of pleasure, has the nature of good, and
vice versa.

§. 43. What good is desired, what not. — Though this be that
which is called good and evil ; and all good be the proper object
of desire in general ; yet all good, even seen and confessed to
be so, does not necessarily move every particular man's desire ;
but only that part, or so much of it, as is considered, and taken
to make, a necessary part of his happiness. All other good,
however great in reality or appearance, excites not a man's de-
sires who looks not on it to make a part of that happiness
wherewith he, in his present thoughts, can satisfy himself.
Happiness, under this view, every one constantly pursues, and
desires what makes any part of it : other things, acknowledged
to be good, he can look upon without desire, pass by, and be
content without. There is nobody, I think, so senseless, as to
deny that there is pleasure in knowledge : and for the pleasure
of sense, they have too many followers to let it be questioned
whether men are taken with them or no. Now let one man place
his satisfaction in sensual pleasures, another in the delight of
knowledge : though each of them cannot but confess, there is
great pleasure in what the other pursues ; yet neither of them
making the other's delight a part of his happiness, their desires
are not moved, but each is satisfied without what the other en-
joys, and so his will is not determined to the pursuit of it. But
yet as soon as the studious man's hunger and thirst makes him
uneasy, he whose will was never determined to any pursuit of
good cheer, poignant sauces, delicious wine, by the pleasant taste
he has found in them, is, by the uneasiness of hunger and thirst.

19-2 OF POWER. Book 2-

presently determined to eating and drinking; though possibly
with great indifFerency what wholesome food comes in his way.
And on the other side, the epicure buckles to study, when shame,
or the desire to recommend himself to his mistress, shall make
him uneasy in the want of any sort of knowledge. Thus, how
much soever men are in earnest, and constant in pursuit of hap-
piness ; yet they niay have a clear view of good, great and con-
fessed good, without being concerned for it, or moved by it, if
they think they can make up their happiness without it. Though
as to pain, that they are always concerned for ; they can feel no
uneasiness without being moved. And, therefore, being uneasy
in the want of whatever is judged necessary to their happiness,
as soon as any good appears to make a part of their portion of
happiness, they begin to desire it.

§. 44. WJiy the greatest good is not always desired. — This, I
think, any one may observe in himself and others, that the
greater visible good does not always raise men's desires in pro-
portion to the greatness it appears, and is acknowledged to have :
though every little trouble moves us, and sets us on work to get
rid of it. The reason whereof is evident from the nature of our
happiness and misery itself. All present pain, whatever it be,
makes a part of our present misery : but all absent good does
not at any time make a necessary part of our present happmess,
nor the absence of it make a part of our misery : if it did, we
should be constantly and infinitely miserable ; there being infi-
nite degrees of happiness, which are not in our possession. All
uneasiness, therefore, being removed, a moderate portion of
good serves at present to content men ; and some few degrees
of pleasure in a succession of ordinary enjoyments, make up
a happiness wherein they can be satisfied. If this were
not so, there could be no room for those indifferent and vi-
sible trifling actions, to which our wills are so often determined ;
and wherein we voluntarily waste so much of our lives ; which
remissness could by no means consist with a constant determi-
nation of will or desire to the greatest apparent good. That this
is so, I think few people need go far from home to be convinced.
And indeed in this life, there are not many, whose happiness
reaches so far, as to afford them a constant train of moderate
mean pleasures, without any mixture of uneasiness ; and yet
they could be content to stay here for ever : though they cannot
deny, but that it is possible there may be a state of eternal
durable joys after this life, far surpassing all the good that is to be
found here. Nay, they cannot but see, that it is more possible
than the attainment and continuation of that pittance of honour,
riches, or pleasure, which they pursue ; and for which they

Ch. 21. OF POWER. 193

neglect that eternal state : but yet in full view of this difference,
satisfied of the possibility of a perfect, secure, and lasting hap-
piness in a future state, and under a clear conviction, that it is
not to be had here whilst they bound iheir happiness within
some little enjoyment or aim of this life, and exclude the joys of
heaven from making any necessary part of if, their desires are
not moved by this greater apparent good, nor their wills deter-
mined to any action, or endeavour, for its attainment.

§. 45. Why not being desired, it moves not the will. — The or-
dinary necessities of our lives, fill a great part of them with the
uneasiness of hunger, thirst, heat, cold, weariness with labour, and
sleepiness in their constant returns, &c. To which, if, besides
accidental harms, we add the fantastical uneasiness (as itch
after honour, power, or riches, &c.) which acquired habits by
fashion, example, and education, have settled in us, and a thou-
sand other irregular desires, which custom has made natural to
us, we shall find, that a very little part of our life is so vacant
from these uneasinesses, as to leave us free to the attraction of
remoter absent (rood. We are seldom at ease, and free enouoh
from the solicitation of our natural or adopted desires ; but a con-
stant succession of uneasinesses out of that stock which natural
wants^ or acquired habits, have heaped up, take the will in their
turns ; and no sooner is one action dispatched, which by such a
determination of the will we are set upon, but another uneasiness
is ready to set us on work. For the removing of the pains we
feel, and are at present pressed with, being the getting out of
misery, and consequently the first thing to be done in order to
happiness, absent good, though thought on, confessed, and ap-
pearing to be good, not making any part of this unhappiness in
its absence, is jostled out, to make way for the removal of those
uneasinesses we feel : until due and repeated contemplation
has brought it nearer to our minds, given some relish of it, and
raised in us some desire ; which then beginning to make a part
of our present uneasiness, stands upon fair terms with the rest,
to be satisfied, and so according to its greatness and pressure,
comes in its turn to determine the will.

§. 46. Due consideration raises desire. — And thus, by a due
consideration, and examining any good proposed, it is in our
power to raise our desires in a due proportion to the value of
that good, whereby, in its turn and place, it may come to work
upon the will, and be pursued. For good, though appearing,
and allowed ever so great, yet till it has raised desires in our
minds, and thereby made us uneasy in its want, it reaches not
our wills ; we are not within the sphere of its activity ; our wills
being under the determination only of those mieasinesses which

o

194 OF POWER. Bookl.

are present to us, which (whilst we have any) are always soli-
citing, and ready at hand, to give the will its next determination.
The balancing, when there is any in the mind, being only which
desire shall be next satisfied, which uneasiness first removed.
Wh-ereby comes to pass, that as long as any uneasiness, any desire,
r-emains in our mind, there is no room for good, barely as such, to
come at the will, or at all to determine it. Because, as has been
said, the first step in our endeavours after hap])iness, being to
get wholly out of the confines of misery, and to feel no part of
it, the will can be at leisure for nothing else, till every uneasi-
ness we feel be perfectly removed : which, in the multitude of
wants and desires we are beset with in this imperfect state, we
are not like to be ever free from in this world.

§. 47. The jwiver to suspend the prosecution of any desire,
makes waxj for consideration. — There being in us a great many
uneasinesses always soliciting, and ready to determine, the will.
It is natural, as I have said, that the greatest and most pressing
should determine the will to the next action ; and so it does
for the most part, but not always. For the mind having in most
cases, as is evident in experience, a power to suspend the exe-
cution and satisfaction of any of its desires, and so all, one after
another ; is at liberty to consider the objects of them, examine
them on all sides, and w^eigh them with others. In this lies the
liberty man has : and from the not using of it right, comes all
that variety of mistakes, errors, and faults w^hich we run into in
the conduct of our lives, and our endeavours after happiness,
whilst we precipitate the determination of our wills, and engage
too soon before due examination. To prevent this, we have a
power to suspend the prosecution of this or that desire, as every
one may daily experiment in himself. This seems to me the
source of all liberty ; in this seems to consist that which is (as
I think, improperly) called free will. For, during this suspen-
sion of any desire, before the will be determined to action, and
the action (which follows that determination) done, we have
opportunity to examine, view, and judge of the good or evil of
what we are going to do ; and when, upon due examination, we
have judged, we have done our duty, all that we can or ought to
do, in pursuit of our happiness ; and it is not a fault, but a per-
fection of our nature, to desire, wall, and act, according to the
last result of a fair examination.

§. 48. To he determined by our own judgment, is no restraint
to liberty. — This is so far from being a restraint or diminution of
freedom, that it is the very improvement and benefit of it ; it is
not an abridgment, it is the end and use of our liberty ; and the
farther we are removed from such a determination, the nearer we
are to misery and slavery. A perfect indifferehcy in tlie mind.

Ch.'2\. OF POWER. 195

not determinable by its last judgment of the good or evil that
is thouglit to attend its choice, would be so far from being an
advantage and excellency of any intellectual nature, that it
would be as great an imperfection, as the want of indifferency to
act, or not to act, until determined by the will, would be an
imperfection on the other side. A man is at liberty to lift up
his hand to his head, or let it rest quiet ; he is perfectly indif-
ferent in either ; and it would be an imperfection in him, if he
wanted that power, if he were deprived of that indifferency.
But it would be as great an imperfection, if he had the same
indifferency, whether he would prefer the lifting up his hand, or
its remaining in rest, when it would save his head or eyes from
a blow he sees coming : it is as much a perfection, that desire,
or the power of preferring, should be determined by good, as
that the power of acting should be determined by the will ; and
the more certain such determination is, the greater is the perfection.
Nay, were we determined by any thing but the last result of our
own minds, judging of the good or evil of any action, we were
not free. The very end of our freedom being, that we may
attain the good we choose. And, therefore, every man is put
under a necessity by his constitution, as an intelligent being, to
be determined in willing by his own thought and judgment,
what is best for him to do ; else he would be under the deter-
mination of some other than himself, which is want of liberty.
And to deny, that a man's will, in every determination, follows
his own judgment, is to say, that a man wills and acts for an
end that he would not have at the time that he wills and acts
for it. For if he prefers it in his present thoughts before any
other, it is plain he then thinks better of it, and would have it
before any other, unless he can have and not have it, will and
not will it, at the same time ; a contradiction too manifest to be
admitted.

§. 49. The freest nf/ents are so determined. — If we look upon
those superior beings above us, who enjoy perfect haj)piness,
we shall have reason to judge, that they are more steadily
determined in their clunce of good, than we; and yet we have
no reason to think they are less happy, or less free, than we are.
And if it were fit for such poor finite -creatures as we are, to
pronounce what infinite wisdom and goodness could do, I think
we might say, that God himself cannot choose what is not
good ; the freedom of the Almighty hinders not his being deter-
mined by what is best.

§.. 50. A constant determination to a pursuit of happiness,
no ahridyinent of liberty. — But to give a riglit view of this
mistaken part of liberty ; let me ask, " would any one be a

o 2

10« , OF FOWEK. Bookl.

changeling, because he is less determined by wise considerations
than a wise man ? Is it worth the name of freedom, to be at
liberty to play the fool, and draw shame and misery upon a
man's self?" If to break loose from the conduct of reason, and
to want that restraint of examination and judgment, which keeps
us from choosing or doing the w'orse, be liberty, true liberty,
madmen and fools are the only free men ; but yet, I think,
nobody would choose to be mad for the sake of such liberty,
but he that is mad already. The constant desire of happiness,
and the constraint it puts upon us to act for it, nobody, I think,
accounts an abridgment of liberty, or at least, an abridgment of
liberty to be complained of. God Almighty himself is under
the necessity of being happy ; and the more any intelligent
being is so, the nearer is its approach to perfection and
happiness. That in this state of ignorance we short-sighted
creatures might not mistake true felicity, we are endowed with
a power to suspend any particular desire, and keep it from deter-
mining the will, and engaging us in action. This is standing-
still, where we are not sufficiently assured of the way ; exa-
mination, is consulting a guide ; the determination of the will,
upon enquiry, is following the direction of that guide ; and he
that has a power to act, or not to act, according as such determina-
tion directs, is a free agent ; such determination abridges not that
power wherein liberty consists. He that has his chains knocked
off, and the prison doors set open to him, is perfectly at liberty,
because he may either go or stay, as he best likes ; though his
preference be determined to stay, by the darkness of the night,
or illness of the weather, or want of other lodging. He ceases
not to be free, though the desire of some convenience to be had
there, absolutely determines his preference, and makes him stay
in his prison.

§. 51. The necessity of pursuing true happiness, the founda-
tion of liberty. — As, therefore, the highest perfection of intel-
lectual nature, lies in a careful and constant pursuit of true and
solid happiness ; so the care of ourselves, that we mistake not
imaginary for real happiness, is the necessary foundation of
our liberty. The stronger ties we have to an unalterable pursuit
of happiness in general, which is our greatest good, and which,
as such, our desires always follow, the more are we free from
any necessary determination of our will to any particular action,
and from a necessary compliance with our desire, set upon any
particular, and then appearing preferable good, until we have
duly examined whether it has a tendency to, or be inconsistent
with, our real happiness ; and, therefore, until we are as much
informed upon this enquiry, as the weight of the matter, and the

C7t. 21. OF POWER. 197

nature of the case, demands, we are, by the necessity of pre-
ferring and pursuing- true happiness as our greatest good,
oblio-ed to suspend the satisfaction of our desires in particular
cases.

§. 52. The reason of it. — This is the hinge on which turns
the liberty of intellectual beings in their constant endeavours after,
and a steady prosecution of, true felicity, that they can suspend
this prosecution, in particular cases, until they have looked
before them, and informed themselves whether that particular
thing, which is then proposed or desired, lie in the way to their
main end, and make a real part of that which is their greatest
good ; for the inclination and tendency of their nature to hap-
piness, is an obligation and motive to them to take care not
to mistake or miss it ; and so, necessarily, puts them upon
caution, deliberation, and wariness, in the direction of their
particular actions, which are the means to obtain it. Whatever
necessity determines to the pursuit of real bliss, the same
necessity, with the same force, establishes suspense, deliberation,
and scrutiny of each successive desire, whether the satisfaction of
it does not interfere with our true happiness, and mislead us from
it. This, as seems to me, is the great privilege of finite intel-
lectual beings ; and I desire it may be well considered, whether
the great inlet and exercise of all the liberty men have, are
capable of, or can be useful to, them, and that whereon depends
the turn of their actions, does not lie in this, that they can
suspend their desires, and stop them from determining their wills
to any action, until they have duly and fairly examined the good
and evil of it, as far forth as the weight of the thing requires.
This we are able to do, and when we have done it, we have done
our duty, and all that is in our power, and indeed all that needs.
For since the will supposes knowledge to guide its choice, all
that we can do, is to hold our v»'ills undetermined, until we have
examined the good and evil of what we desire. What follows
after that, follows in a chain of consequences linked one to
another, all depending on the last determination of the judgment ;
which, whether it shall be upon an hasty and precipitate view,
or upon a due and mature examination, is in our power ; expe-
rience showing us, that, in most cases, we are able to suspend
the present satisfaction of any desire.

§. 53. Government of our j)assions, the right improvement of
liberty. — But if any extreme disturbance (as sometimes it happens)
possesses our whole mind, as when the pain of the rack, an impe-
tuous uneasiness, as of love, anger, or any other violent passion,
running away with us, allows us not the liberty of thought, and
we are not masters enough of our own minds to consider

o 3

]C8 OF rOVVKR. Book'!,

thoroughly, and examine fairly ; God, who knows our frailty,
pities our weakness, and requires of us no more than we are
able to do, and sees what was, and what was not, in our power,
will judge as a kind and merciful father. But the forbear-
ance of a too hasty compliance with our desires, the moderation
and restraint of our passions, so that our understandings may be
free to examine, and reason unbiassed give its judgment, being
that whereon a right direction of our conduct to true happiness
depends : it is in this we should employ our chief care and
endeavours. In this we should take pains to suit the relish of
our minds, to the true intrinsic good or ill that is in things, and
not permit an allowed or supposed possible great and weighty
good to slip out of our thoughts, without leaving any relish,
any desire, of itself there, till, by a due consideration of its true
worth, we have formed appetites in our minds suitable to it, and
made ourselves uneasy in the want of it, or in the fear of
losincr it. And how much this is in every one's power, by
making resolutions to himself, such as he may keep, is easy for
every one to try. Nor let any one say, he cannot govern his
passions, nor hinder them from breaking out, and carrying him
into action ; for what he can do before a prince, or a great man,
he can do alone, or in the presence of God, if he will.

5;. 64. How men come to pursue different courses. — From what
has been said, it is easy to give an account, how it comes to pass
that though all men desire happiness, yet their wills carry them
so contrarily, and, consequently, some of them to what is evil.
And to this I say, that the various and contrary choices that
men make in the world, do not argue that they do not all pursue
good : but that the same thing is not good to every man alike.
This variety of pursuit shows that every one does not place his
happiness in the same thing, or choose the same way to it.
Were all the concerns of man terminated in this life, why one
followed study and knowledge, and another hawking and
huntino- ; why one chose luxury and debauchery, and another
sobriety and riches, would not be because every one of these
did not aim at his ow n happiness ; but because their happiness was
placed in different things. And, therefore, it was a right answer
of the physician to his patient that had sore eyes ; if you have
more pleasure in the taste of wine, than in the use of your
sight, wine is good for you ; but if the pleasure of seeing be
greater to you than that of drinking, wine is naught.

§. 55. the mind has a different relish, as well as the palate ;
and you will as fruitlessly endeavour to delight all men with
riches or glory (which yet some men place their happiness in),
as you would to satisfy all men's hunger with cheese or lobsters ;

Ch. 21. OF POWEK. 15)'.)

which though very agreeable and delicious tare tu some, are to
others extremely nauseous and offensive : and many people
AvoaUl.with reason, prefer the griping of an hungry belly, to those
dislies which are a feast to others. Hence it wus, 1 think, that
the philosophers of old did in vain enquire, whether summum
honum consisted in riches or bodily delights, or virtue, or
contemplation? And they might have as reasonably disputed
whether the best relish were to be found in apples, plums, or
nuts ; and have divided themselves into sects upon it. For as
pleasant tastes depend not on the things themselves, but their
agreeableness to this or that particular palate, wherein there is
great variety ; so the greatest happiness consists in the having
those things which produce the greatest pleasure ; and in the
absence of those which cause any disturbance, any pain. Now
these, to difierent men, are very ditl'erent things. If therefore
men in this life only have hope, if in this life they can only
enjoy, it is not strange nor unreasonable, that they should seek
their happiness by avoiding all things that disease them here,
and by pursuing all that delight them; wherein it will be no
wonder to find variety and dillerence. For if there be no
prospect beyond the grave, the inference is certainly right, " let
us eat and drink," let us enjoy what we delight in, " for to-morrow
we shall die." This, I think, may serve to shov/ us the reason,
why, though all men's desires tend to happiness, yet they are
not moved by the same object. Men may choose difi'erent
things, and yet all choose riglit, supposing them only like a
company of poor insects, whereof some are bees, deliglited with
flowers and their sweetness ; others beetles, delighted with other
kind of viands ; which having enjoyed for a season, they would
cease to be, and exist no more for ever.

§. 56. Hoic men come to choose ill. — These things duly
weighed, will give us, as I think, a clear view into the state of
human liberty. Liberty, it is plain, consists in a power to do,
or not to do; to do, or forbear doing, as we will. This cannot
be denied. But this seeming to comprehend only the actions
of a man consecutive to volition, it is farther enquired, "whether
he be at liberty to will or no?" And to this it has been answered,
that in most cases a man is not at liberty to forbear the act of
volition ; he must exert an act of hiai will, whereby the action
proposed is made to exist, or not to exist. But yet there is a
case wherein a man is at liberty in respect of willing, and that is
the choosing of a remote good as an end to be pursusd. Here a
man may suspend the act of his choice from being determined
for or against the thing proposed, till he has examined whether
it be really of a nature in itself and consequences to make him

o 4

■200 OF POWER. Book 2,

happy or no. For when he has once chosen it, and thereby it
is become a part of his happiness, it raises desire, and that
proportionably gives him uneasiness, which determines his will,
and sets him at work in pursuit of his choice on all occasions
that ofJer. And here we may see how it comes to pass, that a
man may justly incur punishment, though it be certain that in
all the particular actions that he wills, he does, and necessarily
does, wdli that which he then judges to be good. For though
his will be always determined by that which is judged good by
his understanding, yet it excuses him not : because, by a too
hasty choice of his own making, he has imposed on himself wrong
measui'es of good and evil; which, however false and fallacious,
have the same influence on all his future conduct, as if they
were true and right. He has vitiated his own palate, and must
be answerable to himself for the sickness and death that follows
from it. The eternal law and nature of things must not be
altered to comply with his ill-ordered choice. If the neglect
or abuse of the liberty he had to examine what would really and
truly make for his happiness, misleads him, the miscarriages
that follow on it, must be imputed to his own election. He had
a power to suspend his determination : it was given him, that
he might examine, and take care of his own happiness, and
look that he were not deceived. And he could never judge,
that it was better to be deceived, than not, in a matter of so
great and near concernment.

What has been said, may also discover to us the reason why
men in this world prefer different things, and pursue happiness
by contrary courses. But yet since men are always constant,
and in earnest, in matters of happiness and misery, the question
still remains. How men come often to prefer the worse to the
better ; and to choose that, which, by their own confession, has
made them miserable ?

§.57. To account for the various and contrary ways men
take, though all aim at being happy, we must consider whence
the various uneasinesses that determine the will in the preference
of each voluntary action, have their rise.

1. From bodily pain. — Some of them come from causes not
in our power, such as are often the pains of the body from want,
disease, or outward injuries, as the rack, &;c., wdiich, when
present and violent, operate for the most part forcibly on the
will, and turn the courses of men's lives from virtue, piety, and
religion, and what before they judged to lead to happiness ;
every one not endeavouring, or through disuse, not being able,
by the contemplation of remote and future good, to raise in
himself desires of them strong enough to counterbalance the

Ch. 21. OF POWER. 201

uneasiness he feels in those bodily torments, and to keep his
will steady in the choice of those actions which lead to future
happiness. A neighbour country has been of late a tragical
theatre, from which we might fetch instances, if there needed
any, and the world did not in all countries and ages furnish
examples enough to confirm that received observation, Necessi-
tas cogit ad turpia ; and therefore there is great reason for us to
pray, " Lead us not into temptation."

2. From wrong desires, arising from wrong judgmeiit. — Other
uneasinesses arise from our desires of absent good; which desires
always bear proportion to, and depend on, the judgment we
make, and the relish we have of any absent good ; in botli
which we are apt to be variously misled, and that by our own
fault.

§. 58. Our judgment of present good or evil always right. —
In the first place, I shall consider the wrong judgments men
make of future good and evil, whereby their desires are misled.
For as to present happiness and misery, v/hen that alone comes
into consideration, and the consequences are quite removed, a man
never chooses amiss ; he knows what best pleases him, and that
he actually prefers. Things in their present enjoyment, are
what they seem; the apparent and real good are, in this case,
always the same. For the pain or pleasure being just so great,
and no greater than it is felt, the present good or evil is really
so much as it appears. And, therefore, were every action of ours
concluded within itself, and drew no consequences after it, we
should undoubtedly never err in our choice of good ; we should
always infallibly prefer the best. Were the pains of honest
industry, and of starving with hunger and cold, set together
before us, nobody would be in doubt which to choose : were
the satisfaction of a lust, and the joys of heaven, offered at once
to any one's present possession, he would not balance or err in
the determination of his choice.

§. 59. But since our voluntary actions carry not all the
happiness and misery that depend on them, along with them in
their present performance, but are the precedent causes of good
and evil, which they draw after them, and bring upon us when
they themselves are passed and cease to be ; our desires look
beyond our present enjoyments, and carry the mind out to
absent good, according to the necessity which we think there is
of it, to the making or increase of our happiness. It is our
opinion of such a necessity that gives it its attraction : without
that, we are not moved by absent good. For in this narrow
scantling of capacity which we are accustomed to, and sensible
of, here, wherein we enjoy but one pleasure at once, which when

202 OF POWER. Book 2.

all uneasiness is away, is, whilst it lasts, sufficient to make us
think ourselves happy ; it is not all remote, and even apparent
good, that affects us. Because the indolency and enjoyment we
have, sufficing for our present happiness, we desire not to ven-
ture the change ; since we judge that we are happy already,
being content, and that is enough. For who is content, is
happy. But as soon as any new uneasiness comes in, this
happiness is disturbed, and we are set afresh on work in the
pursuit of happiness.

§. 60. From a wrong judgment of what makes a necessary
part of their happiness. — Their aptness therefore to conclude,
that they can be happy without it, is one great occasion that
men often are not raised to the desire of the greatest absent
good. For whilst such thoughts possess them, the joys of a
future state move them not ; they have little concern or uneasiness
about them ; and the will, free from the determination of such
desires, is left to the pursuit of nearer satisfactions, and to the
removal of those uneasinesses which it then feels in its w^ant of,
and longings after, them. Change but a man's view of these
things ; let him see that virtue and religion are necessary to his
happiness ; let him look into the future state of bliss or misery,
and see there God, the righteous Judge, ready to " render to
every man according to his deeds ; to them who by patient con-
tinuance in well-doing, seek for glory, and honour, and immor-
tality, eternal life ; but unto every soul that dotli evil, indigna-
tion, a.nd wrath, tribulation and anguish :" to him, I say, who
hath a prospect of the different state of perfect happiness or
misery that attends all men after this life, depending on their
behaviour here, the measures of good and evil, that govern his
choice, are mightily changed. For since nothing of pleasure
and pain in this life, can bear any proportion to the endless hap-
piness, or exquisite misery, of an immortal soul hereafter, actions
in his power will have their preference, not according to the
transient pleasure or pain that accompanies or follows them
here, but as they serve to secure that perfect durable happiness
hereafter.

§.61. A more particular account of wrong judgments. — But
to account more particularly for the misery that men often bring
on themselves, notwithstanding that they do all in earnestpursue
happiness, we must consider how things come to be represented
to our desires, under deceitful appearances ; and that is by the
judgment pronouncing wrongly concerning them. To see how
far this reaches, and what are the causes of wrong judgment,
we must remember that things are judged good or bad in a
double sense.

C'/i. 21. OF IV^WER. 203

First, That whicli is properly good or bad, is nothing' but
barely pleasure or pain,

SecoiuUij, But bfecause not only present pleasure and pain,
but that also which is apt, by its efficacy or consequences, to
bring it upon us at a distance, is a proper object of our desires,
and apt to move a creature that has foresight ; therefore things
also that draw after them pleasure and pain, are considered as
good and evil.

§. 62. The wrong judgment that misleads us, and makes the
will often fasten on the worse side, lies in misreporting upon the
various comparisons of these. The wrong judgment I am here
speaking of, is not what one man may think of the determination
of another ; but what every man himself must confess to be
wrong. For since I lay it for a certain ground, that every in-
telligent being really seeks happiness, which consists in the
enjoyment of ))leasure, without any considerable mixture of
uneasiness ; it is impossible any one should willingly put into
his own draught any bitter ingredient, or leave out any thing in
his power, that would tend to his satisfaction, and the com-
pleting of his happiness, but only by wrong judgment. I shall
not here speak of that mistake which is the consequence of in-
vincible error, which scarce deserves the name of wrong judg-
ment ; but of that wrong judgment which every man himself
must confess to be so.

§. 63. In comj)aring present and future. — If, therefore, as to
present pleasure and pain, the mind, as has been said, never
mistakes that which is really good or evil ; that which is the
greater pleasure, or the greater pain, is really just as it appears.
But though present pleasure and pain show their difference and
degrees so plainly, as not to leave room for mistake ; yet when
we compare present pleasure or pain with future (which is usually
the case in the most important determinations of the will), we
often make wrong judgments of them, taking our measures of
them in different positions of distance. Objects, near our view,
are apt to be thought greater than those of a larger size, that
are more remote; and so it is with pleasures and pains; the
present is opt to carry it, and those at a distance have the dis-
advantage in the comparison. Thus most men, like spend-thrift
heirs, are apt to judge a little in hand better than a great deal
to come ; and so for small matters in possession, part with greater
ones in reversion. But that this is a wrong judgment, every one
must allow, let his pleasure consist in whatever it will : since
that which is future, will certainly come to be ]iresent ; and
then having the same advantage of nearness, will show itself in
its full dimensions, and discover his wilful mistake, who judged

204 OF PUWKR. Book 'I.

uf it by unequal measures. Were the pleasure of drinking ac-
companied, the very moment a man takes off his glass, with that
sick stomach and aching- head, which, in some men, are sure to
follow not many hours afier, I think nobody, whatever pleasure
he had in his cups, would, on these conditions, ever let wine touch
his lips ; which yet he daily swallows, and the evil side comes
to be chosen only by the fallacy of a little difference in time.
But if pleasure or pain can be so lessened only by a few hours
removal, how much more will it be so, by a farther distance, to
a man that will not, by a right judgment, do what time wall, i. e.
bring it home upon himself, and consider it as present, and there
take its true dimensions ? This is the way we usually impose
on ourselves, in respect of bare pleasure and pain, or the true
degrees of happiness or misery; the future loses its just pro-
portion, and what is present, obtains the preference as the greater.
I mention not here the wrong judgment, whereby the absent are
not only lessened, but reduced to perfect nothing ; w^hen men enjoy
what they can in present, and make sure of that, concluding-
amiss that no evil will thence follow. For that lies not in com-
paring the greatness of future good and evil, which is that we are
here speaking of; but in another sort of wrong judgment, which is
conc,erning good or evil, as it is considered to be the cause and
procurement of pleasure or pain that will follow from it.

§ 64. Causes of this. — The cause of our judging amiss, when
we compare our present pleasure or pain with future, seems to
me to be the weak and narrow constitution of our minds ; we
cannot well enjoy two pleasures at once, much less any pleasure
almost, whilst pain possesses us. The present pleasure, if it
be not very languid, and almost none at all, fills our narrow
souls, and so takes up the whole mind, that it scarce leaves any
thought of things absent ; or if among our pleasures, there are
some which are not strong enough to exclude the consideration
of things at a distance ; yet we have so great an abhorrence of
pain, that a little of it extinguishes all our pleasures : a little
bitter mingled in our cup, leaves no relish of the sweet. Hence
it comes, that at any rate we desire to be rid of the present
evil, which we are apt to think nothing absent can equal ;
because under the present pain, we find not ourselves capable
of any the least degree of happiness. Men's daily complaints
are a loud proof of this ; the pain that any one actually feels,
is still of all other the worst ; and it is with anguish they cry
out, " Any rather than this ; nothing can be so intolerable as
what I now suffer." And, therefore, our whole endeavours and
thoughts are intent to get rid of the present evil, before all
things, as the first necessary condition to our happiness, let what

Ch. 21. OF POWER. 205

will follow. Nothing, as we passionately think, can exceed, or
almost equal, the uneasiness that sits so heavy upon us. And
because the abstinence from a present pleasure, that offers itself,
is a pain, nay, oftentimes a very great one, the desire being in-
flamed by a near and tempting object ; it is no wonder that that
operates after the same manner pain does, and lessens in our
thoughts what is future ; and so forces us, as it were, blindfold
into its embraces.

§. 65. Add to this, that absent good, or which is the same
thing, future pleasure, especially if of a sort we are unac-
quainted with, seldom is able to counterbalance any uneasiness,
either of pain or desire, which is present. For its greatness
being no more than what shall be really tasted when enjoyed,
men are apt enough to lessen that, to make it give place to any
present desire ; and to conclude with themselves, that when it
comes to trial, it may possibly not answer the report or opinion
that generally passes of it, they having often found, that not
only what others have magnified, but even what they themselves
have enjo)'ed with great pleasure and delight at one time, has
proved insipid or nauseous at another ; and therefore they see
nothing in it for which they should forego a present enjoyment.
But that this is a false way of judging, when applied to the
happiness of another life, they must confess, unless they will
say, "God cannot make those happy he designs to be so." For
that being intended for a state of happiness, it must certainly
be agreeable to every one's wish and desire ; could we suppose
their relishes as different there, as they are here, yet the manna
in heaven will suit every one's palate. Thus much of the wrong
judgment we make of present and future pleasure and pain, when
they are compared together, and so the absent considered as
future.

§. 66. In consideritifj consequences of actions. — As to things
good or bad in their consequences, and by the aptness that is
in them to procure us good or evil in the future, we judge
amiss several ways.

1, When we judge that so much evil does not really depend
on them, as in truth there does.

2, When we judge, that though the consequence be of that
moment, yet it is not of that certainty, but that it may other-
wise fall out ; or else by some means be avoided, as by industry,
address, change, repentance, &c. That these are wrong ways of
judging, were easy to show in every particular, if I would exa-
mine them at large singly : but I shall only mention this in ge-
neral, viz., that it is a very wrong and irrational way of proceed-
ing, to venture a greater good for a less, upon uncertain guesses.

206 OF POWEIl. Book 1.

and before a due examination be made, proportionable to the
weightincss of the matter, and the concernment it is to us not to
mistake. This, I think, every one must confess, especially if he
considers the usual causes of his wrong judgment, whereof these
following are some.

§. 67. Causes of this. — \,Ignorcmce: he that judges without
informing himself to the utmost that he is capable, cannot
acquit himself of judging amiss.

2, Inadvertency : when a man overlooks even that which he
does know. This is an affected and present ignorance, which
misleads our judgments as much as the other. Judging is, as it
were, balancing an account, and determining on which side t!ie
odds lies. If therefore either side be huddled up in haste, and
several of the sums that should have gone into the reckoning,
be overlooked, and left out, this precipitancy causes as wrong a
judgment, as if it were a perfect ignorance. That which most
commonly causes this, is the prevalency of some present plea-
sure or pain, heightened by our feeble passionate nature, most
strongly wrought on by what is present. To check this preci-
pitancy, our understanding and reason was given us, if we will
make a right use of it, to search and see, and then judge there-
upon. Without liberty, the understanding would be to no pur-
pose : and without understanding, liberty (if it could be) would
signify nothing. If a man sees what would do him good or
harm, what would make him happy or miserable, without being-
able to move himself one step towards or from it, what is he the
better for seeing? and he that is at liberty to ramble in jierfect
darkness, what is his liberty better than if he were driven up
and down as a bubble by the force of the wind ? the being
acted by a blind impulse from without or from within, is little
odds. The first, therefore, and great use of liberty, is to hiiuler
blind precipitancy ; the principal exercise of freedom, is to stand
still, open the eyes, look about, and take a view of the conse-
quence of what we are going to do, as much as the weight of the
matter requires. How much sloth and negligence, heat and
passion, the prevalency of fashion, or acquired indispositions, do
severally contribute on occasion, to these wrong judgments, I
shall not here farther enquire. I shall only add one other false
judgment, which I think necessary to mention, because perhaps
it is little taken notice of, though of great influence.

^. 68. Wi'onfj judgment of n: hat is necessary to our happiness.
— AH men desire happiness, that is past doubt : bixt, as has been
already observed, when they are rid of pain, they are apt to take
up with any pleasure at hand, or that custom has endeared to
them, to rest satisfied in that ; and so being happy till some

Ch. '21. OF POWER. 207

new desire, by making them uneasy, disturbfi that happiness^
and shows them that they are not so, they look no farther ; nor
is the will determined to any action in pursuit of any other
known or apparent good. For since we find that we cannot
enjoy all sorts of good, but one excludes another; we do not
fix our ideas on every apparent greater good, unless it be judged
to be necessary to our happiness ; if we think we can be happy
without it, it moves us not This is another occasion to men of
judging wrong, when they take not that to be necessary to their
liappiness, which really is so. This mistake misleads us both in
the choice of the good we aim at, and very often in the means
to it, when it is a remote good. But which way ever it be,
either by placing it where really it is not, or by neglecting
the means, as not necessary to it, when a man misses his great
end, happiness, he will acknowledge he judged not right. That
which contributes to this mistake, is the real or supposed un-
pleasantness of the actions, which are the way to this end, it
seeming so preposterous a thing, to men, to make themselves
unhappy in order to happiness, that they do not easily bring
themselves to it.

§. 69. We can change the ayreeableness, or disagreeahhness, in
Ihings. — The last enquiry, therefore, concerning this matter is,
" whether it be in a man's power to change the pleasantness and
un])leasantness that accompanies any sort of action ?" and as to
that, it is plain in many cases he can. Men may, and should,
correct their palates, and give a relish to what either has, or they
suppose has, none. The relish of the mind, is as various as
that of the body, and like that, too, may be altered ; and it is a
mistake to think, that men cannot change the displeasingness
or indiiTerency that is in actions, into pleasure and desire, if
they will do but what is in their power. A due consideration
will do it in some cases ; and practice, application, and custom
in most. Bread or tobacco may be neglected, where they are
shown to be useful to health, because of an indifferency or
disrelish to them ; reason and consideration at first recom-
mend, and begin their trial, and use finds, or custom makes,
them pleasant. That this is so in virtue too, is very certain.
Actions are pleasing, or displeasins;, either in themselves, or
considered as a means to a greater and more desirable end.
The eating of a well-seasoned dish suited to a man's palate, may
move the mind by the delight itself that accompanies the eating,
without reference to any other end : to which the consideration
of the pleasure there is in health and strength (to which that
meat is subservient), may add a new gusto, able to make us
swallow an ill-relished potion. In the latter of these, any

208 OF POWER. Book -2.

action is rendered more or less pleasing, only by the con-
templation of the end, and the being more or less persuaded of
its tendency to it, or necessary connection with it : but the
pleasure of the action itself is best acquired, or increased, by
use and practice. Trials often reconcile us to that, which at a
distance we looked on with aversion ; and by repetitions, wear
us into a liking of what possibly in the first essay displeased us.
Habits have powerful charms, and put so strong attractions of
easiness and pleasure into what we accustom ourselves to, that
we cannot forbear to do, or at least, be easy in the omission of,
actions which habitual practice has suited, and thereby recom-
mends to us. Though this be very visible, and every one's
experience shows him he can do so ; yet it is a part in the conduct
of men towards their happiness, neglected to a degree, that it
will be possibly entertained as a paradox, if it be said, that men
can make things or actions more or less pleasing to themselves ;
and thereby remedy that, to which one may justly impute a
o-reat deal of their wanderino-. Fashion and the common
opinion having settled wrong notions, and education and custom
ill habits, the just values of things are misplaced, and the
palates of men corrupted. Pains should be taken to rectify
these ; and contrary habits change our pleasures, and give
a relish to that which is necessary, or conducive, to our
happiness. This every one must confess he can do, and when
happiness is lost, and misery overtakes him, he will confess, he
did amiss in neglecting it, and condemn himself for it : and I
ask every one, whether he has not often done so ?

§. 70. Preference of vice to virtue, a manifest icrong judg-
ment.— I shall not now enlarge any farther on the wrong j udgments,
and neglect of what is in their power, whereby men mislead
themselves. This would make a volume, and is not my business.
But whatever false notions, or shameful neglect of what is in
their power, may put men out of their way to happiness, and
distract them, as we see, into so difterent courses of life, this yet
is certain, that morality, established upon its true foundations,
cannot but determine the choice in any one that will but
consider : and he that will not be so far a rational creature, as
to reflect seriously upon infinite happiness and misery, must
needs condemn himself, as not making that use of his under-
standing he should. The rewards and punishments of another
life, which the Almighty has established as the enforcements of
his law, are of weight enough to determine the choice against
whatever pleasure or pain this life can show, when the eternal
state is considered but in its bare possibility, which nobody
can make any doubt of. He that will allow exquisite and endless

CV*. 21. OJ POWER. 209

happiness to be but the possible consequence of a good life
here, and the contrary state, the possible reward of a bad one,
must own himself to judge very much amiss, if he does not
conclude, that a virtuous life, with the certain expectation of
everlasting- bliss, which may come, is to be prefe ired to a vicious
one, with the fear of that dreadful state of misery, which it is
very possible may overtake the guilty ; or at best, the terrible
uncertain hope of annihilation. This is evidently so, though the
virtuous life here had nothing but pain, and the vicious, conti-
nual pleasure : which yet is for the most part quite otherwise,
/and wicked men have not much the odds to brag of, even in
their present possession; nay, all things rightly considered,
have, I think, even the worst part here. But when infinite
happiness is put in one scale, against infinite misery in the
other ; if the worst that comes to the pious man, if he mistakes,
be the best that the wicked can attain to, if he be in the right,
who can, without madness, run the venture? Who in his wits
would choose to come within a possibility of infinite misery,
which if he miss, there is yet nothing to be got by that hazard ?
Whereas, on the other side, the sober man ventures nothing
against infinite happiness to be got, if his expectation comes to
pass. If the good man be in the right, he is eternally happy ;
if he mistakes, he is not miserable, he feels nothing. On the
other side, if the wicked man be in the right, he is not happy;
if he mistakes, he is infinitely miserable. Must it not be a most
manifest wrong judgment, that does not presently see to which
side, in this case, the preference is to be given ? I have for-
born to mention any thing of the certainty, or probability, of a
future state, designing here to show the wrong judgment that
any one must allow he makes upon his own principles, laid how
lie pleases, who ]nefers the short pleasures of a vicious life
upon any consideration, whilst he knows, and cannot but be
certain, that a future life is at least possible.

§. 71. Recapitulation. — To conclude this enquiry into human
liberty, which, as it stood before, I myself, from the beginning,
fearing, and a very judicious friend of mine, since the publi-
cation, suspecting to have some mistake in it, though he
could not particularly show it me, I was put upon a stricter
review of this chapter. Wherein lighting upon a very easy, and
scarce observable, slip I had made, in putting one seemingly
indifferent word for another, that discovery opened to me this
present view, which here, in this second edition, I submit to the
learned world, and which, in short, is this : " liberty is a power to
act or not to act, according as the mind directs." A power to direct
the operative faculties to motion or rest in particular instances,

210 OP POWER. Book2.

is that which we call the will. That which in the train of our
voluntary actions determines the will to any change of operation,
is some present uneasiness, which is, or at least is always
accompanied with, that of desire. Desire is always moved by evil,
to fly it ; because a total freedom from pain, always makes a
necessary part of our happiness : but every good, nay, every
greater good, does not constantly move desire, because it may
not make, or may not be taken to make, any necessary part of
our happiness. For all that we desire, is only to be happy.
But though this general desire of happiness operates constantly
and invariably, yet the satisfaction of any particular desire, can
be suspended from determining the will to any subservient action,
till we have maturely examined, whether the particular apparent
good, which we then desire, makes a part of our real happiness,
or be consistent or inconsistent with it. The result of our
judgment upon that examination, is what ultimately determines
the man who could not be free, if his will were determined by
any thing but his own desire, guided by his own judgment. I
know that liberty, by some, is placed in an indifferency of the
man, antecedent to the determination of his will. I wish they
who lay so much stress on such an antecedent indifferency, as
they call it, had told us plainly, whether this supposed
indifferency be antecedent to the thought and judgment of the
understanding, as well as to the decree of the will. For it is
pretty hard to state it between them; i.e. immediately after
the judgment of the understanding, and before the determination
of the will, because the determination of the will immediately
follows the judgment of the understanding ; and to place liberty
in an indifferency, antecedent to the thought and judgment of the
understanding, seems to me to place liberty in a state of darkness,
wherein we can neither see nor say any thing of it; at least it places
it in a subject incapable of it, no agent being allowed capable of
liberty, but in consequence of thought and judgment. I am not
nice about phrases, and therefore consent to say with those that
love to speak so, that liberty is placed in indifferency; but it is
an indifferency which remains after the judgment of the under-
standing ; yea, even after the determination of the will. And
that is an indifferency not of the man (for after he has once
judged which is best, viz., to do or forbear, he is no longer
indifferent), but an indifferency of the operative powers of the
man, which remaining equally able to operate, or to forbear
operating, after, as before, the decree of the will, are in a state,
which, if one pleases, may be called indifferency ; and as far as
this indifferency reaches, a man is free, and no farther ; v. g. I
have the ability to move my hand, or to let it rest; that operative
power is indifferent to move, or not to move, my hand : I am

Ch. 21. OF POWER. 211

then in that respect perfectly free. My will determines that
operative power to rest; I am yet free; because the indifFerency
of that my operative power to act, or not to act, still remains ; the
power of moving my hand, is not at all impaired by the deter-
mination of my will, which at present orders rest ; the indif-
ferency of that power to act, or not to act, is just as it was
before, as will appear, if the will puts it to the trial, by ordering
the contrary. But if, during the rest of my hand, it be seized
by a sudden palsy, the inditferency of that operative power is
gone, and with it, my liberty ; I have no longer freedom in that
respect, but am under a necessity of letting my hand rest.
On the other side, if my hand be put into motion by a convul-
sion, the indifFerency of that operative faculty is taken away by
that motion, and my liberty in that case is lost ; for I am under
a necessity of having my hand move. I have added this, to
show in what sort of indifFerency liberty seems to me to consist,
and not in any other, real or imaginary.

§. 72. True notions concerning the nature and extent of
liberty, are of so great importance, that I hope I shall be par-
doned this digression, which my attempt to explain it has led
me into. The ideas of will, volition, liberty, and necessity, in
this chapter of power, came naturally in my way. In a former
edition of this treatise, I gave an account of my thoughts con-
cerning them, according to the light I then had ; and now, as a
lover of truth, and not a worshipper of my own doctrines, I own
some change of my opinion, which, I think, I have discovered
ground for. In what I first writ, I, with an unbiassed indifFer-
ency, followed truth whither I thought she led me. But neither
being so vain as to fancy infallibility, nor so disingenuous as to
dissemble my mistakes, for fear of blemishing my reputation, I
have, with the same sincere design for truth only, not been
ashamed to publish what a severer enquiry has suggested. It
is not impossible, but that some may think my former notions
right, and some (as I have already found) these latter; and
some neither. I shall not at all wonder at this variety in men's
opinions : impartial deductions of reason in controverted points
being so rare, and exact ones in abstract notions not so
very easy, especially if of any length. And, therefore, I should
think myself not a little beholding to any one, who would upon
these, or any other grounds, fairly clear this subject of liberty
from any difficulties that may yet remain.

Before I close this chapter, it may perhaps be to our purpose,
and help to give us clearer conceptions about power, if we make
our thoughts take a little more exact survey of action. I have
said above, that we have ideas but of two sorts of action, viz.

p2

212 OF POWER. Book 2.

motion and thinking. These, in truth, though called and
counted actions, yet, if nearly considered, will not be found to
be always perfectly so. For, if I mistake not, there are instances
of both kinds, which, upon due consideration, will be found
rather passions than actions, and, consequently, so far the effects
barely of passive powers in those subjects, which yet, on their
adcolirits, are thought agents. For, in these instances, the sub-
stance that hath motion or thought, receives the impression,
whereby it is put into that action purely from without, and so
acts 'merely by the capacity it has to receive such an impres-
sion from some external agent; and such a power is not pro-
perly an active power, but a mere passive capacity in the sub-
ject. Sometimes the substance, or agent, puts itself into action
by its own power, and this is properly active power. What-
'soever modification a substance has, whereby it produces any
t^ffedt, that is called action ; v. g. a solid substance by motion
operates on, or alters, the sensible ideas of another substance,
ahd, therefore, this modification of motion we call action. But
yet, this motion in that solid substance is, when rightly con-
sidered, but a passion, if it received it only from some external
Tt^erit.-' "^So that the active power of motion is in no substance
w'Tiich cannot begin motion in itself, or in another substance,
wheh at rest. So likewise in thinking, a power to receive ideas
or thouo-hts, from the operation of any external substance, is
called a power of thinking : but this is but a passive power or
capacity. But to be able to bring into view, ideas out of sight,
at one's own choice, and to compare which of them one thinks
fit, this is an active power. This reflection may be of some use
to preserve us from mistakes about powers and actions, which
A-ratomar, and the common frame of languages, may be apt to
?ead us into : since w^hat is signified by verbs that grammarians
hW active, does not always signify action ; v. g. this pro-
oDsition, I see the moon, or a star, or I feel the heat of the sun,
fhbiigh expressed by a verb active, does not signify any action
in'mie, vvhereby I operate on those substances; but the recep-
tibti of the ideas of light, roundness, and heat, wherein I am not
active, but barely passive, and cannot, in that position of my
^^s'-^Or'bddy, avoid receiving them. But when I turn my eyes
rWbther -^Vay, or remove my body out of the sun-beams, I am
!iroperly active ; because of my own choice, by a power within
iayself, I put myself into that motion. Such an action is the
product of active power.

^^§. 73. And thus I have, in a short draught, given a view of
<Jiif''orio-inal ideas, from whence all the rest are derived, and of
^\'}iich they are made up ; which, if I would consider as a phi-
losopher, and examine on what causes they depend, and of

Ch. 22. OF MIXED MODES. B|5

what they are made, I believe they all might be reduced to these
very few primary and original ones, viz., extension, solidity,
mobility, or the power of being moved ; which by our senses, we
receive from body ; perceptivity, or the power of perception or
thinking ; motivity, or the power of moving : which, by reflec-
tion, we receive from our minds. I crave leave to make use of
these two new words, to avoid the danger of being mistaken in
the use of those which are equivocal. To which, if we add ex-
istence, duration, number, which belong both to the one and
the other, we have, perhaps, all the original ideas on which . the
rest depend. For, by these, I imagine, might be explained the
nature of colours, sounds, tastes, smells, and all other ideas we
have, if we had but faculties acute enough to perceive the seve-
rally modified extensions and motions of these minute bodies,
which produce those several sensations in us. But my present
purpose being only to enquire into the knowledge the mind has
of things, by those ideas and appearances which God has fittec^
it to receive from them, and how the mind comes by that know-
ledge, rather than into their causes, or manner of production ; I
shall not, contrary to the design of this essay, set myselt to
enquire, philosophically, into the peculiar constitution of bodies,
and the configuration of parts, whereby they have the power to
produce in us the ideas of their sensible qualities. I shall not
enter any farther into that disquisition, it sufficing to my pur-
pose to observe, that gold or saffron has a power to produce in
us the idea of yellow ; and snow or milk, the idea of white;-
which we can only have by our sight, without examining the
texture of the parts of those bodies, on the particular figures or
motion of the particles which rebound from them, to cause in
us that particular sensation ; though when we go beyond the
bare ideas in our minds, and would enquire into their causes, we
cannot conceive any thing else to be in any sensible object,
whereby it produces different ideas in us, but the different bulk,
figure, number, texture, and motion of its insensible parts.

CHAPTER XXII.

OF MIXED MODES.

§. 1. Mixed modes, lohat. — Having treated of simple modes
in the foregoing chapters, and given several instances of some of
the most considerable of them, to show what they are, and how
we come by them ; we are now, in the next place, to consider
those we call mixed modes : such are the complex ideas we mark

p 3

214 OF MIXED MODES. Book^l.

by the names, obligation, drunkenness, a lie, &c., which, con-
sisting of" several combinations of simple ideas of different
kinds, I have called mixed modes, to distinguish them from the
more simple modes, which consist only of simple ideas of the
same kind. These mixed modes being also such combinations
of simple ideas, as are not looked upon to be characteristical
marks of any real beings, that have a steady existence, but
scattered and independent ideas, put together by the mind, are
thereby distinguishable from the complex ideas of substances.

§. 2. Made by the mind. — That the mind, in respect of its
simple ideas, is wholly passive, and receives them all from the
existence and operations of things, such as sensation or reflec-
tion offers them, without being able to make any one idea,
experience shows us. But if we attentively consider these ideas
I call mixed modes, we are now speaking of, we shall find their
original quite different. The mind often exercises an active
power in making these several combinations ; for it being once
furnished with simple ideas, it can put them together in several
compositions, and so make variety of complex ideas, without
examining whether they exist so together in nature. And
hence I think it is, that these ideas are called notions ; as if
they had their original and constant existence more in the
thoughts of men, than in the reality of things ; and to form
such ideas, it sufficed, that the mind puts the parts of them
together, and that they were consistent in the understanding,
without considering whether they had any real being ; though
I do not deny, but several of them might be taken from obser-
vation, and the existence of several simple ideas, so combined,
as they are put together in the understanding. For the man
who first framed the idea of hypocrisy, might have either taken
it at first from the observation of one who made show of good
qualities which he had not ; or else have framed that idea in his
mind, without having any such pattern to fashion it by. For it is
evident, that in the beginning of languages and societies of
men, several of those complex ideas which were consequent to
the constitutions established amongst them, must needs have
been in the minds of men, before they existed any where else ;
and that many names that stood for such complex ideas, were in
use, and to those ideas framed, before the combinations they
stood for ever existed.

§. 3. Sometimes got by the explication of their names. — Indeed,
now that languages are made, and abound with words standing
for such combinations, an usual way of getting these complex
ideas, is by the explication of those terms that stand for them.
For consisting of a company of simple ideas, combined, they
may, by words standing for those simple ideas, be represented

Ch. 22. OF MIXED MODES. 215

to the mind of one who understands those words, though that
complex combination of simple ideas were never offered to his
mind by the real existence of things. Thus a man may come
to have the idea of sacrilege or murder, by enumerating to him
the simple ideas which these words stand for, without ever
seeingr either of them committed.

§. 4. The name ties the parts of mixed modes into one idea. —
Every mixed mode consisting of many distinct simple ideas, it
seems reasonable to enquire "whence it has its unity; and how
such a precise multitude comes to make but one idea, since that
combination does not always exist together in nature ?" To which
I answer, it is plain it has its unity from an act of the mind
combining those several simple ideas together, and considering
them as one complex one, consisting of those parts ; and the
mark of this union, or that which is looked on generally to
complete it, is one name given to that combination. For it is
by their names, that men commonly regulate their account of
their distinct species of mixed modes, seldom allowing or con-
sidering any number of simple ideas to make one complex one,
but such collections as there be names for. Thus, though the
killing of an old man be as fit, in nature, to be united into one
complex idea, as the killing a man's father; yet, there being no
name standing precisely for the one, as there is the name of
parricide to mark the other, it is not taken for a particular
complex idea, nor a distinct species of actions, from that of
killing a young man, or any other man.

§. 5. The cause of making mixed modes. — If we should en-
quire a little farther, to see what it is that occasions men to make
several combinations of simple ideas into distinct, and, as it
were, settled modes, and neglect others, which, in the nature of
things themselves, have as much an aptness to be combined,
and make distinct ideas, we shall find the reason of it to be the
end of language ; which being to mark or communicate men's
thoughts to one another with all the dispatch that may be, they
usually make such collections of ideas into complex modes, and
affix names to them, as they have frequent use of in their way
of living and conversation ; leaving others, which they have but
seldom an occasion to mention, loose and without names to
tie them together ; they rather choosing to enumerate (when
they have need) such ideas as make them up, by the particular
names that stand for them, than to trouble their memories by
multiplying of complex ideas with names to them, which they
seldom or never have any occasion to make use of.

§. 6. Why words in one language, have none answering in
another. — This shows us how it comes to pass, that there are in

p 4

216 OF MIXED MODES. Book^l.

every language many particular words, which cannot be ren-
dered by any single word of another ; for the several fashions,
customs, and manners of one nation, making several combi-
nations of ideas familiar and necessary in one, which another
people have had never any occasion to make, or, perhaps, so
much as take notice of, names come of course to be annexed
to them, to avoid long periphrases in things of daily conver-
sation ; and so they become so many distinct complex ideas in
their minds. Thus oq^wAfyfj-og amongst the Greeks, and pro-
scriptio amongst the Romans, were words which other languages
had no names that exactly answered, because they stood for
complex ideas, which were not in the minds of the men of other
nations. Where there was no such custom, there was no notion
of any such actions ; no use of such combinations of ideas as
were united, and, as it were, tied together, by those terms ; and^
therefore, in other countries, there were no names for them.

§. 7. And languages change. — Hence, also, we may see the
reason why languages constantly change, take up new, and lay
by old, terms ; because change of customs and opinions bringing
with it new combinations of ideas, which it is necessary fre-
quently to think on and talk about, new names, to avoid long
descriptions, are annexed to them ; and so they become new
species of complex modes. What a number of different ideas
are, by this means, wrapped up in one short sound, and how
much of our time and breath is, thereby, saved, any one will see,
who will but take the pains to enumerate all the ideas that either
reprieve or appeal stand for ; and, instead of either of those
names, use a periphrasis, to make any one understand their
meaninof.

§. 8. Mixed modes, where they exist. — Though 1 shall have
occasion to consider this more at large, when I come to treat of
words, and their use ; yet I could not avoid to take thus much
notice here of the names of mixed modes, which being fleeting
and transient combinations of simple ideas, which have but a
short existence any where, but in the minds of men, and there,
too, have no longer any existence, than whilst they are thought
on, have not so much, any where, the appearance of a constant
and lasting existence, as in their names ; which are, therefore, in
this sort of ideas, very apt to be taken for the ideas themselves.
For if we should enquire, whether the idea of a triumph or
apotheosis exists, it is evident they could neither of them exist
altogether any where in the things themselves, being actions
that required time to their performance, and so could never all
exist together : and as to the minds of men, where the ideas of
these actions are supposed to be lodged, they have therej too, a

Ch.'22. OF MIXKD MODES. 217

very uncertain existence ; and, therefore, we are apt to annex them
to the names that excite them in us.

§. y. IJoiv we cjei the ideas of mixed modes. — There are, there-
fore, three ways whereby we get the complex ideas of mixed
modes. 1, By experience and observation of things themselves.
Thus by seeing two men wrestle, or fence, we get the idea of
wrestling or fencing. 2, By invention, or voluntary putting
together of several simple ideas in our minds ; so he that
first invented printing, or etching, had an idea of it in his mind,
before it ever existed. 3, Which is the most usual way, by ex-
plaining the names of actions we never saw, or notions we
cannot see ; and by enumerating, and thereby, as it were, setting
before our imaginations all those ideas which go to the making
them up, and are the constituent parts of them. For having by
sensation and reflection stored our minds with simple ideas,
and by use got the names that stand for them, we can, by those
means, represent to another any complex idea we would have
him conceive; so that it has in it no simple ideas but what he
knows, and has, with us, the same name for. For all our com-
plex ideas are ultimately resolvable into simple ideas, of which
they are compounded, and originally made up, though perhaps
their immediate ingredients, as I may so say, are also complex
ideas. Thus the mixed mode, which the word lye stands for,
is made up of these simple ideas ; 1, Articulate sounds. 2, Cer-
tain ideas in the mind of the speaker. 3, Those words the signs
of those ideas. 4, Those signs put together by affirmation or
negation, otherwise than the ideas they stand foi', are in the
mind of the speaker. I think I need not go any farther in the
analysis of that complex idea we call a lye; what I have said
is enough to show, that it is made up of simple ideas ; and it
could not be but an offensive tediousness to my reader, to trouble
him with a more minute enumeration of every particular simple
idea that goes to this complex one ; which, from what has been
said, he cannot but be able to make out to himself. The same
may be done in all our complex ideas whatsoever; which, how-
ever compounded, and decompounded, may at last be resolved,
into simple ideas, which are all the materials of knowledge or
thought we have, or can have. Nor shall we have reason to
fear, that the mind is hereby stinted to too scanty a number of
ideas, if we consider what an inexhaustible stock of simple
modes, number and figure alone affords us. How far then
mixed modes, which admit of the various combinations of
simple different ideas, and their infinite modes, are from being
few and scanty, we may easily imagine. So that before we have
done, we shall see, that nobody need be afraid he shall not have

218 OF MIXED MODES. Book '2.

scope and compass enough for his thoughts to range in, though
they be, as I pretend, confined only to simple ideas received from
sensation or reflection, and their several combinations.

§. 10. Motion, thinking, and power, have been most modified. —
It is worth our observing, which of all our simple ideas have
been most modified, and had most mixed ideas made out of
them, with names given to them ; and those have been these
three : thinking, and motion (which are the two ideas which
comprehend in them all action), and power, and from whence these
actions are conceived to flow. The simple ideas, I say, of
thinking, motion, and power, have been those which have been
most modified ; and out of whose modifications have been made
most complex modes, with names to them. For action being
the great business of mankind, and the whole matter about
which all laws are conversant, it is no wonder that the several
modes of thinking and motion should be taken notice of, the
ideas of them observed, and laid up in the memory, and have names
assigned to them; without which, laws could be but ill made,
or vice and disorder repressed. Nor could any communication
be well had amongst men, without such complex ideas with
names to them ; and therefore men have settled names, and sup-
posed settled ideas in their minds, of modes of action distin-
guished by their causes, means, objects, ends, instruments, time,
place, and other circumstances ; and also of their powers fitted
for those actions : v. g. boldness is the power to speak or do
what we intend, before others, w ithout fear or disorder ; and
the Greeks call the confidence of speaking by a peculiar name,
zTCip(iv\(7i<z. Which power or ability in man, of doing any thing,
when it has been acquired by frequent doing the same thing, is
that idea we name habit ; when it is forward and ready upon
every occasion to break into action, we call it disposition. Thus
testiness is a disposition, or aptness, to be angry.

To conclude : let us examine any modes of action, v. g. con-
sideration and assent, which are actions of the mind ; running
and speaking, which are actions of the body ; revenge and
murder, which are actions of both together, and we shall find
them but so many collections of simple ideas, which together
make up the complex ones signified by those names.

§. 11. Several words seeming to signify action, signify hut the
effect. — Power being the source from whence all action proceeds,
the substances wherein these powers are, when they exert this
power into act, are called causes ; and the substances which
thereupon are produced, or the simple ideas which are intro-
duced into that subject by the exerting of that power, are called
effects. The efficacy whereby the new substance or idea is

CA. 23. OUR IDEAS OF SU35STANCES. 219

produced, is called, in the subject exerting that power, action;
but in the subject wherein any simple idea is changed or pro-
duced, it is called passion : which efficacy, however various,
and the effects almost infinite, yet we can, I think, conceive it
in intellectual agents, to be nothing else but modes of thinking
and willing ; in corporeal agents, nothing else but modifications
of motion. I say, I think we cannot conceive it to be any other
but these two ; for whatever sort of action, besides these, pro-
duces any effects, I confess myself to have no notion or idea
of; and so it is quite remote from my thoughts, apprehensions,
and knowledge, and as much in the dark to me as five other
senses, or as the ideas of colours to a blind man ; and therefore
many words, which seem to express some action, signify nothing
of the action or modus operandi at all, but barely the effect,
with some circumstances of the subject wrought on, or cause
operating ; v. g. creation, annihilation, contain in them no idea
of the action or manner whereby they are produced, but barely
of the cause and the thing done. And when a countryman says
the cold freezes water, though the word freezing seems to import
some action, yet truly it signifies nothing but the effect, viz.
that water that was before fluid, is become hard and consistent,
without containing any idea of the action whereby it is done.

§. 12. Mixed modes made also of other ideas. — I think I shall
not need to remark here, that though power and action make the
greatest part of mixed modes, marked by names, and familiar in
the minds and mouths of men ; y3t other simple ideas, and their
several combinations, are not excluded ; much less, I think,
will it be necessary for me to enumerate all the mixed modes
which have been settled, with names to them. That would be to
make a dictionary of the great part of the words made use of
in divinity, ethics, law, and politics, and several other sciences.
All that is requisite to my present design, is to show what sort
of ideas those are, which I call mixed modes ; how the mind
comes by them; and that they are compositions made up of
simple ideas got from sensation and reflection ; which, I sup-
pose, I have done.

CHAPTER XXIII.

OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES.

§. 1. Ideas of substances, how made. — The mind being, as I
have declared, furnished with a great number of the simple ideas
conveyed in by the senses, as they aie found in exterior things.

220 OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTAISCES. Book-l.

or by reflection on its own operations, takes notice also that
as certain numbers of these simple ideas go constantly together ;
which being presumed to belong toone thing, and words being-
suited to common apprehensions, and made use of for quick
dispatch, are called, so united in one subject, by one name;
which, by inadvertency, we are apt afterwards to talk of, and
consider, as one simple idea, which indeed is a complication of
many ideas together : because, as I have said, not imagining
how these simple ideas can subsist by themselves, we accustom
ourselves to suppose some substratum, wherein they do subsist,
and from which they do result ; which, therefore, we call sub-
stance.*

* This section, •which was intended only to show how the individuals of distinct species
of substances came to be looked upon as simple ideas, and so to have simple names, vLs.
from the supposed substratum of substance, which was looked upon as tlie thing itself in
which inhered, and from which resulted, tliat complication of ideas, by which it was repre-
sented to us, hath been mistaken for an account of the idea of substance in general ; and
as such, hatli been represented in these words : But how comes the general idea of sub-
stance to be framed in our minds ? Is this by abstracting and enlarging simple ideas ?
No : " But it is by a complication of many simple ideas together : because, not imagining
how these simple ideas can subsist by themselves, we accustom ourselves to suppose some
substratum, wherein they do subsist, and from whence they do result ; which, therefore,
we call substance." And is this all, indeed, that is to be said for the being of sub-
stance, Ihat we accustom ourselves to suppose a substratum? Is that custom grounded
upon true reason, or not? If not, then accidents or modes must subsist of themselves ;
and these simple ideas need no tortoise to support tliem ; for figures and colours, &c.,
would do well enough of themselves, but for some fancies men have accustomed them-
selves to.

To whicli objection of the Bishop of Worcester, our author(rt) answers thus : " Herein
your lordship seems to charge me with two faults : one. That I make the general idea of
substances to be framed, not by abstracting and enlarging simple ideas, but by a complica-
tion of many simjile ideas together ; the other, as if 1 had said, the being of substance had
no other foundation than the fancies of men.

As to the first of these, I beg leave to remind your lordship, that I say in more places
than one, and particularly Book 3, Chap. 3, $. 6, and Book 1, Chap. 11, $. 9, where, ex
projesso, I treat of abstraction and general ideas, that they are all made by abstracting,
and, therefore, could not be understood to mean, that that of substance was made any
other way ; however my pen might liave slipt, or tlie negligence of expression, where I
might have something else than the general idea of substance in view, migiit make me
seem to say so.

" That I was not speaking of tlie general idea of substance, in the passage your
lordship quotes, is manifest from tbe title of that chapter, which is, ' Of the complex ideas
of substances:' and the first section of it, which your lordship cites for those words you
have set down.

" In wliich words I do not observe any that deny the general idea of substance to be
made by aljstracting, nor any tliat say it is made by a complication of many simple ideas
together. But speaking in that place of the ideas of distinct substances, such as man,
horse, gold, ikc, I say they are made up of certain combinations of simple ideas, which
combinations are looked upon, each of them, as one simple idea, tliough they are many ;
and we call it by one name of substance, though made up of modes, from the custom of
supposing a substratum, wherein that combination does subsist. So that in this paragraph
I only give an account of the idea of distinct substances, such as oak, elephant, iron, &c.,
how, tliough they are made up of distinct complications of modes, yet they are looked on as
one idea, called by one name, as making distinct sorts of substance.

" But that my notion of substance in general, is quite different from these, and has no such

(a) In his first letter to the Bishop of Worcester.

Ch. 23. OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 221

^. 2. Our idea of substance in general. — So that if any one
will examine himself concerning his notion of pme substance in
general, he will find he has no other idea of it at all, but only a
supposition of he knows not what support of such qualities, which
are capable of producing simple ideas in us ; which qualities are
commonly calle<l accidents. If any one should be asked, what is
the sub) ect wherein colour or weight inheres, he would have noth ing
to say, but the solid extended parts : and if he were demanded
what is it that solidity and extension adhere in, he would
not be in a much better case than the Indian before-mentioned,
who saying that the world was supported by a great elephant,
was asked, what the elephant rested on ? To which his answer
was, a great tortoise : but being again pressed to know what
gave support to the broad-backed tortoise, replied, something,
he knew not what. And thus here, as in all other cases, where

combination of simple ideas in it, is evident from the immediate following words, where I
say (a), ' The idea of pure substance in general, is only a supposition of we know not
what support of such qualities as are capable of producing simple ideas in us.' And tliese
two I plainly distinguish all along, particularly where I say, ' whatever, therefore, be the
secret and abstract nature of substance in general, all the ideas we have of particular
distinct substances, are nothing but several combinations of simple ideas, co-existing in
such, though unknown cause of their union, as makes the whole subsist of itself.'

" The other thing laid to my charge, is as if I took the being of substance to be doubt-
ful, or rendered it so by the imperfect and ill-grounded idea I have given of it. To which
I beg leave to say, that I ground not the being, but the idea of substance, on our ac-
customing ourselves to suppose some substratum ; for it is of the idea alone I speak there,
and not of the being of substance. And having every where atTirmed, and built upon it,
that a man is a substance, I cannot be supposed to question or doubt of the being of sub-
stance, till lean question or doubt of my own being. Farther, I say(^)), ' Sensation
convinces us that there are solid extended substances; and reflection, that there are
thinking ones.' So that, I think, the being of substance is not sliaken by wliat I have
said ; and if the idea of it should be, yet (the being of things depending not on our ideas)
the being of substance would not be at all shaken by my saying, we had but an obscure
imperfect idea of it, and that that idea came from our accustoming ourselves to suppose
some substratum ; or indeed, if I should say, we had no idea of substance at all. For a
great many things may be, and are granted to have a being, and be in nature, of which
we have no ideas. For example : it cannot be doubted but tliere are distinct species of
separate spirits, of which, yet we have no distinct ideas at all ; it cannot be questioned but
spirits have ways of communicating their tlioughts, and yet we have no idea of it at all.

" The being then of substance being safe and secure, notwithstanding any thing T have
said, let us see whether the idea of it be not so too. Your lordship asks, with concern,
And is this all, indeed, tliat is to be said, for the being (if your lordship please, let it be
the idea) of substance, that we accustom ourselves to suppose a substratum ? Is that
custom grounded upon true reason or no ? I have said, that it is grounded upon this, (c)
' That we cannot conceive how simple ideas of sensible qualities should subsist alone ;
and, therefore, we suppose them to exist in, and to be supported by, some common sub-
ject ; which we denote by the name substance.' Which, I think, is a true reason, because
it is the same your lordship grounds the supposition of a substratum on, in tliis very page ;
even on the repugnancy to our conceptions, that modes and accidents should subsist by
themselves. So that I have the good luck to agree here with your lordship : and con-
sequently conclude, I have your approbation in this, that the substratum to modes or
accidents, which is our idea of substance in general, is founded in this, ' that we cannot
conceive how modes or accidents can subsist by themselves.' "

(a) B. 2, c. 23, <5.'2. (M lb. ^. 29. (<•) lb. i. 4.

222 OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. Bookl.

we use words without having clear and distinct ideas, we talk
like children ; who being questioned what such a thing is, which
they know not, readily give this satisfactory answer, that it is
something ; which, in truth, signifies no more, when so used,
either by children or men, but that they know not what ; and that
the thing they pretend to know, and talk of, is what they have no
distinct idea of at all, and so are perfectly ignorant of it, and in
the dark. The idea then we have, to which we give the general
name substance, being nothing but the supposed, but unknown,
support of those qualities we find existing, which, we imagine,
cannot subsist sine resuhstante, without something to support
them, we call that support substantial ; which, according to the
true import of the word, is in plain English, standing under, or
upholding.*

* From tliis paragraph, tliere hath been raised an objection by the Bishop of Worces-
ter, as if our author's doctrine here, concerning ideas, had almost discarded substance out
of the world : his words in this paragraph being brought to prove, that he is one of tlie
gentlemen of this new way of reasoning, tliat have almost discarded substance out of the
reasonable part of the world. To which our author replies : (a) " This, my lord, is an
accusation which your lordship will pardon me, if I do not readily know what to plead to,
because I do not understand what it is almost to discard substance out of the reasonable part
of the world. If your lordship means by it, that I deny, or doubt, that there is in tlie world
any such thing as substance, that your lordship will acquit me of, when your lordship looks
again into tliis 23d chapter of tlie second book, which you have cited more than once ;
where you will find these words, $. 4: ' Whence we talk or think of any particular sort of
corporeal substances, as horse, stone, &c., tliough the idea we have of either of them, be but
the complication or collection of those several simple ideas of sensible qualities which we
use to find united in tlie thing called horse, or stone ; yet, because we cannot conceive
how they should subsist alone, nor one in another, we sappose them existing in, and sup-
ported by, some common subject, which support we denote by the name substance ; though
it is certain, we have no clear or distinct idea of that thing we suppose a support.' And
again, §. 5 : ' The same happens concerning the operations of the mind, viz. thinking,
reasoning, fearing, &c., which we considering not to subsist of themselves, nor appre-
hending how they can belong to body, or be produced by it, we are apt to tliink these the
actions of some other substance, which we call spirit ; whereby yet it is evident, that
having no other idea or notion of matter, but something wherein those many sensible
qualities, which affect our senses, do subsist, by supposing a substance, wherein tliinking,
knowing, doubting, and a power of moving, &c. do subsist, we have as clear a notion of
the nature or substance of spirit, as we have of body ; the one being supposed to be
(without knowing what it is) the substratum to those simple ideas we have from without :
and the other supposed (with a like ignorance of what it is) to be the substratum to those
operations, which we experiment in ourselves within.' And again, $. 6 : ' Whatever,
therefore, be the secret nature of substance in general, all the ideas we have of particular
distinct substances, are nothing but several combinations of simple ideas, co-existing in
such, though unknown cause of their union, as makes the whole subject of itself.' And I
farther say, in the same section, ' that we suppose these combinations to rest in, and to be
adherent to, that unknown common subject, which inheres not in any thing else.' And
$. 3: ' That our complex ideas of substances, besides all those simple ideas they are made
up of, have always the confused idea of something to which they belong, and in which
they subsist J and, therefore, when we speak of any sort of substance, we say it is a thing
having such and such qualities ; as body is a thing that is extended, figured, and capable
of motion : spirit, a thing capable of thinking.

" ' Tliese and the like fashions of speaking, intimate, that the substance is supposed

{a) In his first letter to that bishop.

Ch. 23. OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 223

§. 3. Of the sorts of substances. — An obscure and relative
idea of substance in general, being thus made, we come to have
the ideas of particular sorts of substances, by collecting such

always something besides the extension, figure, solidity, motion, thinking, or other ob-
servable idea, though we know not what it is.'

" ' Our idea of body, I say, (a) is an extended solid substance ; and our idea of soul, is
of a substance that thinks.' So that as long as there is any such thing as body or spirit
in the world, I liave done nothing towards the discarding substance out of the reasonable
part of the world. Nay, as long as there is any simple idea or sensible quality left ac-
cording to my way of arguing, substance cannot be discarded ; because all simple ideas,
all sensible qualities, carry with them a supposition of a substratum to exist in, and of a
substance wherein they inhere : and of this, that whole chapter is so full, tliat I challenge
any one who reads it, to think I have almost, or one jot, discarded substance out of tlie
reasonable part of the world. And of this, man, horse, sun, water, iron, diamond, &c.,
which 1 have mentioned of distinct sorts of substances, will be my witnesses, as long as
any such thing remain in being ; of which I say, (b) ' That the idea of substances are
such combinations of simple ideas, as are taken to represent distinct particular things sub-
sisting by themselves, in which the opposed or confused idea of substance is always the
first and chief.*

" If, by almost discarding substance out of the reasonable part of the world, your
lordship means, that I have destroyed, and almost discarded, the true idea we have of it,
by calling it a substratum(c), a supposition of we know not what support of such qualities
as are capable of producing simple ideas in us, an obscure and relative idea : (d) That
without knowing what it is, it is that which supports accidents ; so that of substance we
have no idea of what it is, but only a confused obscure one of what it does ; I must
confess, this, and the like, I have said of our idea of substance : and should be very glad
to be convinced by your lordship, or any body else, that I have spoken too meanly of it.
He that would show me a more clear and distinct idea of substance, would do me a kind-
ness I should thank him for. But this is the best I can hitherto find, either in my own
thoughts, or in the books of logicians : for their account or idea of it is, that it is ens, or
res per se stihsisteiis, et siihstans accidentibus ; which, in effect, is no more, but that sub-
stance is a being or thing ; or, in short, something, they know not what, or of which
they have no clearer idea, than that it is something which supports accidents, or other
simple ideas or modes, and is not supported itself, as a mode, or an accident. So that I
do not see but Burgersdicius, Sanderson, and the whole tribe of logicians, must be reckoned
by the gentlemen of this new way of reasoning, who have almost discarded substance out
of the reasonable part of the world.

" But supposing, my lord, that I, or these gentlemen, logicians of note in the schools,
should own that we have a very imperfect, obscure, inadequate idea of substance, would
it not be a little too hard, to charge us with discarding substance out of the world ? For
what, almost discarding, and reasonable part of the world, signifies, I must confess I do
not clearly comprehend : but let almost, and reasonable part, signify here what they will,
for I dare say your lordship meant something by them ; would not your lordship think you
were a little hardly dealt with, if, for acknowledging yourself to have a very imperfect
and inadequate idea of God, or of several other things which in this very treatise you
confess our understandings come short in, and cannot comprehend, you should be accused
to be one of these gentlemen that have almost discarded God, or those otlier mysterious
things, whereof you contend we have very imperfect and inadequate ideas, out of the
reasonable world ? For I suppose your lordship means, by almost discarding out of the
reasonable world, something that is blaraeable, for it seems not to be inserted for a com-
mendation ; and yet I think he deserves no blame, who owns the having imperfect, in-
adequate, obscure ideas, where he has no better ; however, if it be inferred from thence,
that either he almost excludes those things out of being, or out of rational discourse, if
that be meant by the reasonable world ; for the first of these will not hold, because the
being of tilings in the world, depends not on our ideas : the latter indeed is true in some
degree, but it is no fault ; for it is certain, that where we have imperfect, inadequate, con-

(a) B. 2, c. 23, §. 22. (b) B. 2, c. 12, §. 6.

(c) B. 2, c. 23, §. 1, $. 2, §. 3. (d) B. 2, c. 13, §. 19.

224 OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. Book 2

combinations of simple ideas, as are, by experience and obser-
vation of" men's senses, taken notice of to exist together, and
are, therefore, supposed to flow from the particular internal con-

fused, obscure ideas, we caniiot discourse and reason about those things so well, fully, and
clearly, as if we had perfect, adequate, clear, and distinct ideas."

Other objections are made against the following parts of this paragraph, by tliat
reverend prelate, viz. " The repetition of tlie story of the Indian philosopher, and tin;
talking like children about substance :" to which our author replies :

" Your lordshij), I must own, with great reason, takes notice, that I paralleled more
than once, our idea of substance with the Indian philosopher's he-kiiew-not-what, which
supported the tortoise, 6cc.

" This repetition is, I confess, a fault in exact writing : but I have acknowledged
and excused it, in these words, in my preface : ' I am not ignorant how little I herein
consult my own reputation, wlien I knowingly let ray essay go with a fault so apt to
disgust the most judicious, who are always the nicest readers.' And there farther add,
' That I did not j)ublish my essay for such great masters of knowledge as your lordship ;
but fitted it to men of my own size, to whom repetitions might be sometimes useful.' It
would not, therefore, have been beside your lordship's genenjsity (who were not intended
to be provoked by this repetition) to have passed by such a fault as this, in one who pre-
tends not beyond the lower rank of writers. But 1 see your lordship would have me
exact, and without any faults ; and I wish I could be so, the better to deserve your
lordship's approbation.

" My saying, ' That when we talk of substance, we talk like children ; who being
asked a question about something which they know not, readily give this satisfactory
answer. That it is something ;' your lordship seems mightily to lay to heart in these words
that follow ; ' If this be the trutli of tlie case, we must still talk like children, and I know
not how it can be remedied. For if we cannot come at a rational idea of substance, we
can have no principle of certainty to go upon in this debate.'

" If your lordship has any better and distincter idea of substance than mine is, whicii
I have given an account of, your lordsliip is not at all concerned in what I have there
said. But those whose idea of substance, whether a rational or not rational idea, is like
mine, something, they know not what, must in that, with me, talk like children, when
they speak of something, they know not what. For a philosopher that says, that whicli
supports accidents, is something, he knows not what; and a countryman that says, the
foundation of the great church at Harlem is supported by something, he knows not what ;
and a child tliat stands in the dark, upon his mother's muff, and says he stands upon some-
thing, he knows not what, in this respect, talk all tliree alike. But if the countryman
k?iows that the foundation of the church of Harlem is supported by a rock, as the houses
about Bristol are ; or by gravel, as the houses about London are ; or by wooden piles, as
the houses in Amster^m are ; it is plain, that then having a clear and distinct idea of tlie
thing that supports the church, he does not talk of this matter as a child ; nor will he of
the support of accidents, when he has a clearer and more distinct idea of it, than that it
is barely something. But as long as we think like children, in cases where our ideas are
no clearer nor distincter than theirs, I agree with your lordship, that I know not how it
can be remedied, but that we must talk like them."

Farther, the bishop asks, " Whether there be no difference between the bare being of a
thing, and its subsistence by itself r" To which our author answers: " Yes (a). But what
will that do to prove, that upon my principles, we can come to no certainty of reason, that
tliere is any such thing as substance ? You seem by this question to conclude, that the
idea of a tiling that subsists by itself, is a clear and distinct idea of substance ; but I beg
kave to ask. Is the idea of the manner of subsistence of a thing, the idea of the thing
itself? if it be not, we may have a clear and distinct idea of tbe manner, and yet have
none but a very obscure and confused one of the thing. For example : I tell your lord-
ship, tliat I know a thing that cannot subsist with.out a support, and I know another tiling
that does subsist without a support, and say no more of them ; can you, by having the clear
^id distinct ideas of having a support, and not having a support, say, that you have a
clear and distinct idea of the thing that I know which has, and of the thing that I know

(a) Mr. Locke's third letter.

Ch. 23. OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 225

stitution, or unknown essence of that substance. Thus we
come to have the ideas of a man, horse, gold, water, &c., of
which substances, whether any onelias any other clear idea, farther
than of certain simple ideas co-existing together, I appeal to
every man's own experience. It is the ordinary qualities ob-
servable in iron, or a diamond, put together, that make the true
complex idea of those substances which a smith or jeweller
commonly knows better than a philosopher ; wdio, whatever sub-
stantial forms he may talk of, has no other idea of those sub-
stances than what is framed by a collection of those simple
ideas which are to be found in them ; only we must take notice
that our complex ideas of substances, besides all those simple
ideas they are made up of, have always the confused idea of
something to which they belong, and in which they subsist;
and, therefore, when we speak of any sort of substance, we say
it is a thing having such or such qualities, as body is a thing
that is extended, figured, and capable of motion; spirit, a
thing capable of thinking ; and so hardness, friability, and power
to draw iron, we say, are qualities to be found in a loadstone-
These, and the like fashions of speaking, intimate, that the
substance is supposed always something besides the extension,
figure, solidity, motion, thinking, or other observable ideas,
though we know not what it is.

§. 4. No clear idea of substance in general. — Hence, when

■whieh has not a support? If your lordship can, I beseech you to give me the clear and
distinct ideas of these, which I only call by the general name, things, that have or have
not supports : for such there are, and such I shall give your lordship clear and distinct
ideas of, when you shall please to call upon me for them ; though I think your lordship
will scarce find them by the general and confused idea of things, nor in the clearer and
more distinct idea of having, or not having, a support.

" To show a blind man, that he has no clear and distinct idea of scarlet, I tell him, that
his notion of it, that it is a thing or being, does not prove he has any clear or distinct
idea of it ; but barely that he takes it to be something, he knows not what. He replies.
That he knows more than tliat, v. g. he knows that it subsists, or inheres in another thing ;
and is there no difference, says he, in your lordship's words, between the bare being of a
thing, and its subsistence in another ? Ves, say 1 to him, a great deal, they are very dif-
ferent ideas. But for all that, you have no clear and distinct idea of scarlet, nor such a
one as 1 have, who see and know it, and have another kind of idea of it, besides that of
inherence.

" Your lordship has the idea of subsisting by itself, and, therefore, you conclude you
have a clear and distinct idea of the thing that subsists by itself; wh'ch, methinks, is all
one, as if your countryman should say, he hatii an idea of the cedar of Lebanon, that it is
a tree of a nature to need no prop to lean on for its support ; therefore, he hath a clear
and distinct idea of a cedar of Lebanon; which clear and distinct idea, when he comes to
examine, is nothing but a general one of a tree, with which his iudetermined idea of a cedar
is confounded. Just so is tlie idea of substance ; which, however called clear and distinct,
is confounded with the general iudetermined idea of something. But suppose that the
manner of subsisting by itself, gives us a clear and distinct idea of substance, how does
that prove, that upon my principles we can come to no certainty of reason, that there is
any such thing as substance in the world ? Which is the proposition to be proved.

Q

•226 OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. Book'l.

we talk or think of any jjurticular sort of corporeal substances,
as liorse, stone, &,c., thoup;h the idea we have of either of them,
be but the complication, or collection, of those several simple
ideas of sensible qualities, which we use to find united in the
thing called horse, or stone ; yet because we cannot conceive
how they should subsist alone, nor one in another, we suppose
them existing in, and supported by, some common subject ;
which support we denote by the name substance, though it be
certain we have no clear or distinct idea of that thing we sup-
pose a support.

§. o. As clear an idea of spirit as body. — The same thing
happens concerning the operations of the mind, viz., thinking,
reasoning, fearing, &c., which we concluding not to subsist of
themselves, nor apprehending how they can belong to anybody, or
be produced by it, we are apt to think these the actions of some
other substance which we call spirit ; whereby, yet, it is evident,
that having no other idea, or notion, of mattei', but something
wherein those many sensible qualities, which affect our senses^
do subsist ; by supposing a substance, wherein thinking,
knowing, doubting, and a power of moving, &c., do subsist, we
have as clear a notion of the substance of spirit, as we have of
body ; the one being supposed to be (without knowing what it
is) the substratum to those simple ideas we have from without ;
and the other supposed (with a like ignorance of what it is) to
be the substratum to those operations we experiment in our-
selves within. It is plain, then, that the idea of corporeal
substance in matter, is as remote from our conceptions and
apprehensions, as that of spiritual substance, or spirit ; and,
therefore, from our not having any notion of the substance of
spirit, we can no more conclude its non-existence, than we can,
for the same reason, deny the existence of body ; it being as
rational to affirm, there is no body, because we have no clear
and distinct idea of the substance of matter, as to say, there is
no spirit, because we have no clear and distinct idea of the
substance of a spirit.

§• 6. Of the sorts of substances. — Whatever, therefore, be
the secret abstract nature of substances in general, all the
ideas we have of particular distinct sorts of substances, are
nothing but several combinations of simple ideas, co-existing in
such, though unknown, cause of their union, as to make the whole
subsist of itself. It is by such combinations of simple ideas,
and nothing else, that we represent particular sorts of substances
to ourselves : such are the ideas we have of their several species
in our minds ; and such only do we, by their specific names, sig-
nify to others, v. g., man, horse, sun, water, iron ; upon hearing

CA. 23. OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 227

which words, every one who understands the language, frames
in his mind a combination of those several simple ideas, which
he has usually observed, or fancied to exist together, under that
denomination ; all which he supposes to rest in, and be, as it were,
adherent to that unknown common subject, which adheres not in
any thing else. Though, in the mean time, it be manifest, and
every one, upon enquiry into his own thoughts, will find, that he
has no other idea of any substance, v. g., let it be gold, horse,
iron, man, vitriol, bread, but what he has barely of those sen-
sible qualities which he supposes, to inhere, with a supposition
of such a substratum, as gives, as it were, a support to those
qualities, or simple ideas, which he has observed to exist united
together. Thus, the idea of the sun, what is it but an aggre-
gate of those several simple ideas, bright, hot, roundish, having
a constant regular motion, at a certain distance from us, and,
perhaps, some other ? As he who thinks and discourses of the
sun, has been more or less accurate in observing those sensible
qualities, ideas, or properties, which are in that thing which he
calls the sun.

§. 7. Power a great jmrt of our complex ideas of substances.
— For he has the most perfect idea of any of the particular sorts
of substances, who has gathered and put together most of those
simple ideas which do exist in it, among which are to be reckoned
its active powers, and passive capacities; which, though not
simple ideas, yet, in this respect, for brevity's sake, may, con-
veniently enough, be reckoned amongst them. Thus, the power
of drawing iron, is one of the ideas of the complex one of that
substance we call a loadstone ; and a power to be so drawn, is a
part of the complex one we call iron ; which powers pass for
inherent qualities in those subjects. Because every substance
being as apt, by the powers we observe in it, to change some
sensible qualities in other subjects, as it is to produce in us
those simple ideas which we receive immediately from it, does
by those new sensible qualities introduced into other subjects,
discover to us those powers which do thereby immediately affect
our senses, as regularly as its sensible qualities do it imme-
diately': V. g., we immediately, by our senses, perceive in fire its
heat and colour ; which are, if rightly considered, nothing but
powers in it to produce those ideas in us : we also, by our
senses, perceive the colour and brittleness of charcoal, whereby
we come by the knowledge of another power in fire, which it
has to change the colour and consistency of wood. By the
former, fire immediately; by the latter,. it immediately discovers
to us these several qualities, which, therefore, we look upon to be
a part of the qualities of fire, and so make them i part of the

Q 2

•228 OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. Book 2.

complex ideas of it. For all those powers that we take cog-
nizance of, terminating only in the alteration of some sensible
qualities in those subjects on which they operate, and so making
them exhibit to us new sensible ideas ; therefore it is that I
have reckoned these powers amongst the simple ideas which
make the complex ones of the sorts of substances ; though these
powers, considered in themselves, are truly complex ideas. And,
in this looser sense, I crave leave to be understood, when I name
any of these potentialities amongst the simple ideas which we
recollect in our minds, when wjb think of particular substances.
For the powers that are severally in them, are necessary to be
considered, if we will have true distinct notions of the several
sorts of substances.

§. 8. And why. — Nor are we to wonder that powers make a
great part of our complex ideas of substances ; since their
secondary qualities are those, which, in most of them, serve
principally to distinguish substances one from another, and
commonly make a considerable part of the complex idea of the
several sorts of them. For our senses failing us in the dis-
covery of the bulk, texture, and figure of the minute parts of
bodies, on which their real constitutions and differences depend,
we are fain to make use of their secondary qualities, as the cha-
racteristical notes and marks Avhereby to frame ideas of them in
our minds, and distinguish them one from another. All which
secondary qualities, as has been shown, are nothing but bare
powers. For the colour and taste of opium, are, as well as its
soporific or anodyne virtues, mere powers, depending on its
primary qualities, whereby it is fitted to produce different ope-
rations on different parts of our bodies.

§. 9. Three sorts of ideas make our complex ones of sub-
stances.— The ideas that make our complex ones of corporeal
substances, are of these three sorts. Fh'st, The ideas of the
primary qualities of things, which are discovered by our senses,
and are in them, even when we perceive them not ; such are the
bulk, figure, number, situation, and motion of the parts of bodies,
which are really in them, whether we take notice of them or no.
Secondly, The sensible secondary qualities, which depending on
these, are nothing but the powers those substances have to pro-
duce several ideas in us by our senses ; which ideas are not in
the things themselves, otherwise than as any thing is in its
cause. Thirdly, The aptness we consider in any substance, to
give or receive such alterations of primary qualities, as that the
substance so altered should produce in us different ideas from what
it did before ; these are called active and passive powers, all v/hich
powers, as far as we have any notice or notion of them, terminate

Ch. 23. OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 229

only in sensible simple ideas. For whatever alteration a loadstone
has the power to make in the minute particles of iron, we should
have no notion of any power it had at all to operate on iron, did
not its sensible motion discover it ; and I doubt not, but there
are a thousand changes that bodies we daily handle have a
power to cause in one another, which we never suspect, because
they never appear in sensible effects.

§. 10. Powers vicike a great jjart of our complex ideas of
substances. — Powers, therefore, justly make a great part of our
complex ideas of substances. He that will examine his com-
plex idea of gold, will find several of its ideas, that make it up,
to be only powers, as the power of being melted, but of not
spending itself in the fire ; of being dissolved in aqua regia ; are
ideas as necessary to make up our complex idea of gold, as its
colour and weight : which, if duly considered, are also nothing
but different powers. For to speak truly, yellowness is not
actually in gold ; but is a power in gold to produce that idea
in us by our eyes, when placed in a due light : and the heat,
which we cannot leave out of our ideas of the sun, is no more
really in the sun, than the white colour it introduces into wax.
These are both equally powers in the sun, operating by the
motion and figure of its sensible parts so on a man, as to
make him have the idea of heat ; and so on wax, as to make it
capable to produce in a man the idea of white.

§. 11. The new secondary qualities of bodies tvould disappear,
if we could discover the priinary ones of their minute j^arts. — Had
we senses acute enough to discern the minute particles of
bodies, and the real constitution on which their sensible qua-
lities depend, I doubt not but they would produce quite different
ideas in us ; and that which is now the yellow colour of gold,
would then disappear, and instead of it, we should see an ad-
mirable texture of parts of a certain size and figure. This mi-
croscopes plainly discover to us : for what to our naked eyes
produces a certain colour, is, by thus augmenting the acuteness
of our senses, discovered to be quite a different thing ; and tlie
thus altering, as it were, the proportion of the bulk of the
minute parts of a coloured object to our usual sight, produces
different ideas from what it did before. Thus sand, or pounded
glass, which is opaque and white to the naked eye, is pellucid
in a microscope ; and a hair seen this way, loses its former
colour, and is in a great measure pellucid, with a mixture of some
bright sparkling colours, such as appear from the refraction of
diamonds, and other pellucid bodies. Blood, to the naked eye,
appears all red ; but by a good microscope, wherein its lesser
parts appear, shows only some few globules of red swimming in

Q 3

230 OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. Book 2.

a pellucid liquor ; and how these red globules would appear, if
glasses could be found that could yet magnify them 1000, or
10,000 times more, is uncertain.

§. 12. Our faculties of discovertj suited to our state. — The
infinitely wise Contriver of us, and all things about us, hath fitted
our senses, faculties, and organs, to the conveniences of life,
and the business we have to do here. We are able, by our
senses, to know and distinguish things ; and to examine
them so far, as to apply them to our uses, and several ways to
accommodate the exigencies of this life. We have insight enough
into their admirable contrivances, and wonderful effects, to ad-
mire and magnify the wisdom, power, and goodness of their
Author. Such a knowledge as this, which is suited to our pre-
sent condition, we want not faculties to attain. But it appears
not that God intended we should have a perfect, clear, and
adequate knowledge of them : that perhaps is not in the com-
prehension of any finite being. We are furnished with faculties
(dull and weak as they are) to discover enough in the creatures,
to lead us to the knowledge of the Creator, and the knowledge
of our duty ; and we are fitted well enough with abilities to
provide for the conveniences of living : these are our business in
this world. But were our senses altered, and made much
quicker and acuter, the appearance and outward scheme of
things would have quite another face to us ; and I am apt to
think, would be inconsistent with our being, or at least well-
being, in this part of the universe which we inhabit. He that con-
siders how little our constitution is able to bear a remove into
parts of this air, not much higher than that we commonly
breathe in, will have reason to be satisfied, that in this globe of
earth allotted for our mansion, the all-wise Architect has suited
our organs, and the bodies that are to affect them, one to
another. If our sense of hearing were but one thousand times
quicker than it is, how would a perpetual noise distract us ?
And we should, in the quietest retirement, be less able to sleep
or meditate, than in the middle of a sea-fight. Nay, if that
most instructive of our senses, seeing, were in any man one
thousand, or one hundred thousand times, more acute than it is
by the best microscope, things several millions of times
less than the smallest object of his sight now, would then be
visible to his naked eyes, and so he would come nearer to the dis-
covery of the texture and motion of the minute parts of cor-
poreal things ; and in many of them, probably, get ideas of their
internal constitutions : but then he would be in a quite different
world from other people : nothing would appear the same to
him, and others : the visible ideas of every thing would be dif-

Ch. 23. OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 231

ferent. So that I doubt, whether he, and the rest of men, could
discourse concerning the objects of sight, or have any commu-
nication about colours, their appearances being so wholly dif-
ferent. And, perhaps, such a quickness and tenderness of sight
could not endure bright sun-shine, or so much as open day-
light ; nor take in but a very small part of any object at once,
and that too only at a very near distance. And if by the help
of such microscopal eyes (if I may so call them) a man could
penetrate farther than ordinary into the secret composition and
radical texture of bodies, he would not make any great advan-
tage by the change, if such an acute sight would not serve to
conduct him to the market and exchange ; if he could not see
things he was to avoid at a convenient distance, nor distinguish
things he had to do with, by those sensible qualities others do.
He that was sharp-sighted enough to see the configuration of
the minute particles of the spring of a clock, and observe upon
what peculiar structure and impulse its elastic motion depends,
would no doubt discover something very admirable : but if eyes
so framed, could not view at once the hand and the characters?
of the hour-plate, and thereby at a distance see what a clock it
was, their owner could not be much benefited by that acute-
ness ; which, whilst it discovered the secret contrivance of the
parts of the machine, made him lose its use.

§. 13. Conjecture chorit spirits. — And here give me leave to
propose an extravagant conjecture of mine, viz. That since we
have some .reason (if there be any credit to be given to the re-
port of things, that our philosophy cannot account for) to
imagine, that spirits can assume to themselves bodies of different
bulk, figure, and conformation of parts ; whether one great
advantage some of them have over us, may not lie in this, that
they can so frame and shape to themselves organs of sensation
or perception, as to suit them to their present design, and the
circumstances of the object they would consider. For how
much would that man exceed all others in knowledge, who had
but the faculty so to alter the structure of his eyes, that one
sense, as to make it capable of all the several degrees of vision
which the assistance of glasses (casually at first lighted on) has
taught us to conceive ? What wonders would he discover, who
could so fit his eyes to all sorts of objects, as to see, when he
pleased, the figure and motion of the minute particles in the
blood, and other juices of animals, as distinctly as he does, at
other times, the shape and motion of the animals themselves ?
But to us, in our present state, unalterable organs, so contrived,
as to discover the figure and motion of the minute parts of
bodies, whereon depend those sensible qualities we now observe

q4

232 OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. Book 2.

in them, would, perhaps, be of no advantage. God has, no
doubt, made them so, as is best for us in our present condition.
He hath fitted us for the neighbourhood of the bodies that sur-
round us, and we have to do with : and though we cannot, by
the faculties we have, attain to a perfect knowledge of things,
yet they will serve us well enough for those ends above-men-
tioned, which are our great concernment. I beg my reader's
pardon, for laying before him so wild a fancy, concerning the
ways of perception in beings above us : but how extravagant
soever it be, I doubt whether we can imagine any thing about
the knowledge of angels, but after this manner, some way or
other, in proportion to what we find and observe in ourselves.
And though we cannot but allow, that the infinite power and
wisdom of God, may frame creatures with a thousand other fa-
culties, and ways of perceiving things without them, than what we
have ; yet our thoughts can go no farther than our ov/n, so im-
possible it is for us to enlarge our very guesses beyond the
ideas received from our own sensation and reflection. The sup-
position, at least, that angels do sometimes assume bodies, needs
not startle us, since some of the most ancient and most learned
fathers of the church, seemed to believe that they had bodies :
and this is certain, that their state and way of existence is un-
known to us.

§. 14. Conqylex ideas of substances. — But to return to the
matter in hand ; the ideas we have of substances, and the ways
we come by them ; I say, our specific ideas of substances are
nothing else but a collection of a certain number of simple
ideas, considered as united in one thing. These ideas of sub-
stances, though they are commonly simple apprehensions,
and the names of them simple terms ; yet, in effect, are complex
and compounded. Thus the idea which an Englishman signifies
by the name swan, is white colour, long neck, red beak, black
legs, and whole feet, and all these of a certain size, with a power
of swimming in the water, and making a certain kind of noise ;
and perhaps, to a man who has long observed this kind of
birds, some other properties, which all terminate in sensible
simple ideas, all united in one common subject.

§. 15. Idea of spiritual suhsta7ices, as clear as of hodili/ sub-
stances.— Besides the complex ideas we have of material sensible
substances, of which I have last spoken, by the simple ideas
we have taken from those operations of our own minds, which
we experiment daily in ourselves, as thinking, understanding,
willing, knowing, and power of beginning motion, &c,, co-exist-
ino- in some substance ; we are able to frame the complex idea of
an immaterial spirit. And thus, by putting together the ideas

CA.23. OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 233

of thinkinc;, perceiving, liberty, and power of moving themselves
and other things, we have as clear a perception and notion of
immaterial substances, as we have of material. For putting
together the ideas of thinking and willing, or the power of
moving or quieting corporeal motion, joined to substance, of
which we have no distinct idea, we have the idea of an im-
material spirit ; and bv putting together the ideas of coheren;, solid
parts, and a power of being moved, joined with substance, of which
likewise we have no positive idea, we have the idea of matter.
The one is as clear and distinct an idea, as the other ; the
idea of thinking, and moving a body, being as clear and dis-
tinct ideas, as the ideas of extension, solidity, and being moved.
For our idea of substance is equally obscure, or none at all, in
both ; it is but a supposed I know not what, to support those
ideas we call accidents. It is for want of reflection that, we are
apt to think that our senses show us nothing but material things.
Every act of sensation, when duly considered, gives us an equal
view of both parts of nature, the corporeal and spiritual. For
whilst I know, by seeing, or hearing, &c., that there is some
corporeal being without me, the object of that sensation, I do
more certainly know, that there is some spiritual being within
me, that sees and hears. This I must be convinced cannot be
the action of bare insensible matter ; nor ever could be without
an immaterial thinking being.

§. 16. No idea of abstract substance. — By the complex idea
of extended, figured, coloured, and all other sensible qualities,
which is all that we know of it, we are as far from the idea of
the substance of body, as if we knew nothing at all ; nor after
all the acquaintance and familiarity which we imagine we have
with matter, and the many qualities men assure themselves they
perceive and know in bodies, will it, perhaps, upon examination,-
be found, that they have any more, or clearer, primary ideas
belonging to body, than they have belonging to immaterial spirit.

§. 17. The cohesion of solid parts, and impulse, the pri7nari/
ideas of body. — The primary ideas we have peculiar to body, as
contra-distinguished to spirit, are the cohesion of solid, and
consequently separable, parts, and a power of communicatiiig
motion by imjnilse. These, I think, are the original ideas
proper and peculiar to body ; for ligure is but tlie consequence
of finite extension.

§. 18. Thinkimj and viotivity, the priniari/ ideas of spirit. —
The ideas we have belonging and peculiar to spirit, are thinking,
and will, or a power of putting body into motion by thought,
and, which is consequent to it, liberty. For as body cannot but
communicate its motion by impulse to another body, which it

234 OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. Book2.

meets with at rest, so the mind can put bodies into motion, or
forbear to do so, as it pleases. The ideas of existence, duration,
and mobility, are common to them both.

§. 19. Spirits capable of ?nuiion. — There is no reason why it
should be thought strange that I make mobility belong to
spirit : for having no other idea of motion, but change of
distance, with other beings, that are considered as at rest ; and
finding that spirits, as well as bodies, cannot operate but where
they are, and that spirits do operate at several times in several
places, I cannot but attribute change of place to all finite spirits
(for of the infinite spirit I speak not here). For my soul being
a real being, as well as my body, is certainly as capable of
changing distance with any other body, or being as body itself,
and so is capable of motion. And if a mathematician can
consider a certain distance, or a change of that distance, between
two points, one may certainly conceive a distance, and a change
of distance, between two spirits ; and so conceive their motion,
their approach or removal, one from another.

§. 20. Every one finds in himself, that his soul can think,
will, and operate on his body, in the place where that is ; but
cannot operate on a body, or in a place, an hundred miles distant
from it. Nobody can imagine that his soul can think, or move a
body, at Oxford, whilst he is at London ; and cannot but know,
that being united to his body, it constantly changes place all
the whole journey, between Oxford and London, as the coach
or horse does that carries him ; and, I think, may be said to be
truly all that while in motion ; or if that will not be allowed to
afford us a clear idea enough of its motion, its being separated
from the body in death, I think will : for to consider it as going
out of the body, or leaving it, and yet to have no idea of its
motion, seems to me impossible.

§. 21. If it be said by any one, that it cannot change place,
because it hath none, for spirits are not in loco, but uhi ; I
suppose that way of talking will not now be of much weight to
many in an age that is not much disposed to admire, or suffer
themselves to be deceived by, such unintelligible ways of
speaking. But if any one thinks there is any sense in that
distinction, and that it is applicable to our present purpose, I
desire him to put it into intelligible English ; and then from
thence draw a reason to show that immaterial spirits are not
capable of motion ; indeed, motion cannot be attributed to God,
not because he is an immaterial, but because he is an infinite, spirit.

§. 22. Idea of soul and hody compared. — Let us compare
our complex idea of immaterial spirit, with our complex idea
of body, and see whether there be any more obscurity in

Ch. 23. OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 235

one than in the other, and in which most. Our idea of body,
as I think, is an extended solid substance, capable of com-
municating motion by impulse : and our idea of soul, as an
immaterial spirit, is of a substance that thinks, and has a power of
exciting motion in body, by willing, or thought. These, I think,
are our complex ideas of soul and body, aa contra-distinguished ;
and now let us examine which has most obscurity in it, and
difficulty to be apprehended. I know that people, whose
thoughts are immersed in matter, and have so subjected their
minds to their senses, that they seldom reflect on any thing
beyond them, are apt to say, that they cannot comprehend a
thinking thing ; which, perhaps, is true : but I affirm, when
they consider it well, they can no more comprehend an
extended thing.

§. 23. Cohesion of solid parts in body, as hard to he con-
ceived as thinking in a soul. — If any one say, he knows not what
it is thinks in him ; he means, he knows not what the
substance is of that thinking thing : no more, say I, knows
he what the substance is of that solid thing. Farther, if he
says, he knows not how he thinks ; I answer, neither knows he
how he is extended ; how the solid parts of body are united, or
cohere together to make extension. For though the pressure of
the particles of air, may account for the cohesion of several
parts of matter that are grosser than the particles of air, and
have pores less than the corpuscles of air ; yet the weight or
pressure of the air will not explain, nor can be a cause of the
coherence of, the particles of air themselves. And if the pressure
of the ether, or any subtiler matter than the air, may unite and
hold fast together the parts of a particle of air, as well as other
bodies ; yet it cannot make bonds for itself, and hold together
the parts that make up every the least corpuscle of that materia
subtilis. So that the hypothesis, how ingeniously soever ex-
plained, by showing, that the parts of sensible bodies are held
together by the pressure of other external insensible bodies,
reaches not the parts of the ether itself; and by how much the
more evident it proves that the parts of other bodies are held
together by the external pressure of the ether, and can have no
other conceivable cause of their cohesion and union, by so
much the more it leaves us in the dark concerning the cohesion
of the parts of the corpuscles of the ether itself; which we can
neither conceive without parts, they being bodies, and divisible;
nor yet how their parts cohere, they wanting that cause of cohesion
which is given of the cohesion of the parts of all other bodies.

§. 24. But, in truth, the pressure of any ambient fluid, how-
great soever, can be no intelligible cause of the cohesion of the

236 OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. Book 2.

solid parts of matter. For though such a pressure may hinder

the avulsion of two polished superficies one from another,

in a line perpendicular to them, as in the experiment of two

polished marbles ; yet it can never, in the least, hinder the

separation by a motion in a line parallel to those surfaces :

because the ambient fluid, having a full liberty to succeed in

each point of space deserted by a lateral motion, resists such a

motion of bodies so joined, no more than it would resist the

motion of that body, were it on all sides environed by that fluid,

and touched no other body : and, therefore, if there were no

other cause of cohesion, all parts of bodies must be easily

separable by such a lateral sliding motion. For if the pressure

of the ether be the adequate cause of cohesion, wherever that

cause operates not, there can be no cohesion. And since it

cannot operate against such a lateral separation (as has been

shown), therefore in every imaginary plane, intersecting any

mass of matter, there could be no more cohesion, than of two

polished surfaces, which will always, notwithstanding any

imaginable pressure of a fluid, easily slide one from another.

So that, perhaps, how clear an idea soever we think we have of

the extension of body, which is nothing but the cohesion of

solid parts, he that shall well consider it in his mind, may have

reason to conclude, that it is as easy for him to have a clear

idea how the soul thinks, as how body is extended. For since

body is no farther, nor otherwise extended, than by the union

and cohesion of its solid parts, we shall very ill comprehend

the extension of body, without understanding wherein consists

the union and cohesion of its parts ; which seems to me as

incomprehensible as the manner of thinking, and how it is

performed.

§. 25. I allow it is usual for mo;;;t people to wonder how
any one should find a difficulty in what they think they every
day observe. Do we not see, will they be ready to say, the
parts of bodies stick firmly together ? Is there any thing more
common ? And what doubt can there be made of it ? And the
like, I say, concerning thinking, and voluntary motion : do we
not every moment experiment it in ourselves, and therefore can
it be doubted ? Tlie matter of fact is clear, I confess ; but
when we would a little nearer look into it, and consider how
it is done, there, I think, we are at a loss, both in the one
and the other ; and can as little understand how the parts
of body cohere, as how we ourselves perceive, or move. I
would have any one intelligibly explain to me, how the parts
of gold, or brass (that but now in fusion were as loose from
one another, as the particles of water, or the sands of an hour-

C/«. 23. OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 237

glass), come in a few moments to be so united, and adhere so
strongly one to another, that the utmost force of men's arms
cannot separate them ; a considering man will, I suppose, be
here at a loss to satisfy his own or another man's understanding.

§. 26. The little bodies that compose that fluid we call water,
are so extremely small, that I never heard of any one, who by
a microscope (and yet I have heard of some that have magnified
to ten thousand ; nay, to much above one hundred thousand
times) pretended to perceive their distinct bulk, figure, or
motion : and the particles of water are also so perfectly loose
one from another, that the least force sensibly separates them.
Nay, if we consider their perpetual motion, we must allow them
to have no cohesion one with another ; and yet let but a sharp
cold come, and they unite, they consolidate, these little atoms
cohere, and are not, without great force, separable. He that
could find the bonds that tie these heaps of loose little bodies
together so firmly ; he that could make known the cement that
makes them stick so fast one to another, would discover a great,
and yet unknown, secret ; and yet when that was done, would he
be far enough from making the extension of body (which is the
cohesion of its solid parts) intelligible, till he could show
wherein consisted the union, or consolidation, of the parts of
those bonds, or of that cement, or of the least particle of matter
that exists. Whereby it appears that this primary and supposed
obvious quality of body, will be found, when examined, to be as
incomprehensible as any thing belonging to our minds, and a
solid extended substance, as hard to be conceived, as a thinking-
immaterial one, whatever difficulties some would raise against it.

§. 27. For, to extend our thoughts a little farther, that
pressure which is brought to explain the cohesion of bodies, is
as unintelligible as the cohesion itself. For if matter be con-
sidered, as no doubt it is, finite, let any one send his contem-
plation to the extremities of the universe, and there see what
conceivable hoops, what bond, he can imagine to hold this mass
of matter in so close a pressure together, from whence steel has
its firmness, and the parts of a diamond their hardness and in-
dissolubility. If matter be finite, it must have its extremes ;
and there must be something to hinder it from scattering asunder.
If, to avoid this difficulty, any one will throw himself into the
supposition and abyss of infinite matter, let him consider what
light he thereby brings to the cohesion of body ; and whether
he be ever the nearer making it intelligible, by resolving it into
a supposition, the most absurd and most incomprehensible of all
other ; so far is our extension of body (which is nothing but the
cohesion of solid parts) from being clearer, or more distinct.

238 OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. Book-1.

when we would enquire into the nature, cause, or manner of it,
than the idea of thinking.

§. 28. Communication of motion hy impulse, or by thought,
equally intelliyihle. — Another idea we have of body, is the power
of communication of motion by impulse ; and of our souls, the
power of exciting of motion by thought. These ideas, the one
of body, the other of our minds, every day's experience clearly
furnishes us v/ith ; but if here again we enquire how this is
done, we are equally in the dark. For in the communication of
motion by impulse, wherein as much motion is lost to one body,
as is got to the other, which is the most ordinary case, we can have
no other conception, but of the passing of motion out of one
body into another ; which, I think, is as obscure and uncon-
ceivable, as how our minds move or stop our bodies by thought ;
which we every moment find they do. The increase of motion
by impulse, which is observed or believed sometimes to happen,
is yet harder to be understood. We have by daily experience,
clear evidence of motion produced both by impulse and by
thought ; but the manner how, hardly comes within our com-
prehension ; we are equally at a loss in both. So that, however
we consider motion, and its communication either from body or
spirit, the idea which belongs to spirit, is at least as clear as
that which belongs to body. And if we consider the active
power of moving, or, as I may call it, motivity, it is much
clearer in spirit, than body, since two bodies, placed by one
another, at rest, will never afford us the idea of a power in the
one to move the other, but by a borrowed motion ; whereas the
mind every day affords us ideas of an active power of moving
of bodies ; and, therefore, it is worth our consideration, whether
active power be not the proper attribute of spirits, and passive
power of matter. Hence may be conjectured, that created
spirits are not totally separate from matter, because they are
both active and passive. Pure spirit, viz., God, is only active f
pure matter, is only passive ; those beings that are both active
and passive, we may judge to partake of both. But be that as
it will, I think we have as many, and as clear ideas, belonging to
spirit, as we have belonging to body, the substance of each being
equally unknown to us ; and the idea of thinking in spirit, as
clear as of extension in body; and the communication of
motion by thought, which we attribute to spirit, is as evident as
that by impulse which we ascribe to body. Constant experience
makes us sensible of both these, though our narrow under-
standings can comprehend neither. For when the mind would
look beyond those original ideas we have from sensation or
reflection, and penetrate into their causes and manner of pro-

CA. 23. OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 239

duction, we find still it discovers nothing but its own short-
sightedness.

§. 29. To conclude : sensation convinces us that there are
solid extended substances ; and reflection, that there are thinking
ones ; experience assures us of the existence of such beings ;
and that the one hath a power to move body by impulse, the
other by thought ; this we cannot doubt of. Experience, I say,
every moment furnishes us with the clear ideas both of the one
and the other. But beyond these ideas, as received from their
proper sources, our faculties will not reach. If we would en-
quire farther into their nature, causes, and manner, we perceive
not the nature of extension clearer than we do of thinking. If
we would explain them any farther, one is as easy as the other :
and there is no more difficulty to conceive how a substance
we know not, should, by thought, set body into motion, than
how a substance we know not, should, by impulse, set body into
motion. So that we are no more able to discover wherein the
ideas belonging to body consist, than those belonging to spirit.
From whence it seems probable to me, that the simple ideas we
receive from sensation and reflection, are the boundaries of our
thoughts ; beyond which, the mind, whatever eff'orts it would
make, is not able to advance one jot; nor can it make any
discoveries, when it would pry into the nature and hidden causes
of those ideas.

§. 30. Idea of spirit and body comjjared. — So that, in short,
the idea we have of spirit, compared with the idea we have of
body, stands thus : the substance of spirit is unknown to us;
and so is the substance of body equally unknown to us ; two
primary qualities or properties of body, viz., solid coherent parts
and impulse, we have distinct clear ideas of; so, likewise, we
know and have distinct clear ideas of two primary qualities, or
properties of spirit, viz., thinking, and a power of action; i. e.
a power of beginning, or stopping, several thoughts or motions.
We have also the ideas of several qualities, inherent in bodies,
and have the clear distinct ideas of them ; which qualities are
but the various modifications of the extension of cohering solid
parts, and their motion. We have, likewise, the ideas of the
several modes of thinking, viz., believing, doubting, intending,
fearing, hoping ; all which are but the several modes of thinking.
We have also the ideas of willing, and moving the body con-
sequent to it, and with the body itself too ; for, as has been
shown, spirit is capable of motion.

§.31. The notion of spirit involves no more difficulty in it,
than that of body. — Lastly, If this notion of immaterial spirit

240 OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. Book2.

may have, perhaps, some difficulties in it, not easy to be ex-
plained, we have, therefore, no more reason to deny or doubt the
existence of such spirits, than we have to deny or doubt the
existence of body ; because the notion of body is cumbered
with some difficulties, very hard, and, perhaps, impossible, to be
explained or understood by us. For I would fain have instanced
any thing in our notion of spirit, more perplexed, or nearer a
contradiction, than the very notion of body includes in it ; the
divisibility, in hifinilum, of any finite extension involving us,
whether we grant or deny it, in consequences impossible to be
explicated, or made in our apprehensions consistent ; conse-
quences that carry greater difficulty, and more apparent absur-
dity, than any thing can follow from the notion of an immaterial
knowing substance.

§. 32. We know nothing beyond our simple ideas. — Which we
are not at all to wonder at, since we having but some few super-
ficial ideas of things, discovered to us only by the senses from
without, or by the mind, reflecting on what it experiments in
itself within, have no knowledge beyond that, much less of the
internal constitution, and true nature of things, being destitute
of faculties to attain it. And, therefore, experimenting and
discovering in ourselves knowledge, and the power of voluntary
motion, as certainly as we experiment or discover in things
without us, the cohesion and separation of solid parts, which is
the extension and motion of bodies ; we have as much reason to
be satisfied with our notion of immaterial spirit, as with our
notion of body ; and the existence of the one, as well as the
other. For it being no more a contradiction, that thinking
should exist separate and independent from solidity, than it is
a contradiction, that solidity should exist separate and inde-
pendent from thinking, they being both but simple ideas,
independent one from another ; and having as clear and distinct
ideas in us of thinking, as of solidity. I know not why we may
not as well allow a thinking thing without solidity, i. e.
immaterial, to exist, as a solid thing without thinking, i. e.
matter, to exist ; especially since it is not harder to conceive
how thinking should exist without matter, than how matter
should think. For whensoever we would proceed beyond these
simple ideas we have from sensation and reflection, and dive
farther into the nature of things, we fall presently into darkness
and obscurity, perplexedness and difficulties ; and can discover
nothing farther, but our own blindness and ignorance. But
whichever of these complex ideas be clearest, that of body, or
immaterial spirit, this is evident, that the simple ideas that make

CA. 23. OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 241

them up, are no other than what we have received from sensation
or reflection, and so is it of all our other ideas of substances,
even of God himself.

§. 33. Idea of God. — For if we examine the idea we have of
the incomprehensible supreme Being, we shall find that we come
by it the same way ; and that the complex ideas we have botli
of God, and separate spirits, aj-e made up of the simple ideas
we receive from reflection : v. g. having, from what we expe-
riment in ourselves, got the ideas of existence and duration ; of
knowledge and power ; of pleasure and happiness ; and of
several other qualities and powers, which it is better to have
than to be without ; when we would frame an idea the most
suitable we can to the supreme Being, we enlarge every one of
these with our idea of infinite ; and so putting them together,
make our complex idea of God. For that the mind has such a
power of enlarging some of its ideas, received from sensation
and reflection, has been already shown.

§. 34. If I find that I know some few things, and some of
them, or all, perhaps, imperfectly, I can frame an idea of
knowing twice as many ; which I can double again, as often as
I can add to number; and thus enlarge my idea of knowledo-e,
by extending its comprehension to all things existing, or
possible : the same also I can do of knowing them more
perfectly; i. e. all their qualities, powers, causes, consequences,
and relations, &c., till all be perfectly known that is in them, or
can any way relate to them; and thus frame the idea of infinite
or boundless knowledge : the same may also be done of power,
till we come to that we call infinite ; and also of the duration of
existence, without beginning or end ; and so frame the idea
of an eternal being. The degrees, or extent, wherein we ascribe
existence, power, wisdom, and all other perfections (which we
can have any ideas of) to that sovereign Being, which we call
God, being all boundless and infinite, we frame the best idea of
him our minds are capable of: all which is done, I say, by
enlarging those simple ideas we have taken from the operations
of our own minds, by reflection ; or by our senses, from
exterior things, to that vastness to which infinity can extend
them.

§. 35. Idea of God. — For it is infinity which, joined to our
ideas of existence, power, knowledge, &c., makes that complex
idea, whereby we represent to ourselves, the best we can, the
supreme Being. For though in his own essence, which certainly
we do not know, not knowing the real essence of a pebble, or a
fly, or of our own selves, God be simple and uncompounded ;
yet, I think, I may say we have no other idea of him, but a

R

242 OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. Bookl.

complex one of existence, knowledge, power, happiness, &c.,
infinite and eternal: which are all distinct ideas, and some of
them being relative, are auain compounded of others ; all which
being, as has been shown, originally got from sensation and
reflection, go to make uj) the idea or notion we have of God.

§. 36. No ideas in our complex one of spirits, hut those got
from sensation or refection. — This farther is to be observed, that
there is no idea we attribute to God, batino; infinity, which is
not also a part of our complex idea of other spirits. Because,
being capable of no other simple ideas, belonging to any thing
but body, but those which by reflection we receive from the
operation of our minds, we can attribute to spirits no other but
what we receive from thence : and all the difference we can put
between them in our contemplation of spirits, is only in the
several extents and degrees of their knowledge, power, duration,
happiness, &c. For that in our ideas, as well of spirits, as of
other things, we are restrained to those we receive from sensation
and reflection, is evident from hence, that in our ideas of spirits,
how much soever advanced in perfection beyond those of bodies,
even to that of infinite, we cannot yet have any idea of the
manner wherein they discover their thoughts one to another :
though we must necessarily conclude, that separate spirits,
which are beings that have more perfect knowledge, and greater
happiness than we, must needs have also a more perfect way of
communicating their thoughts than we have, who are fain to
make use of corporeal signs, and particular sounds, which are
therefore of most general use, as being the best and quickest
we are capable of. But of immediate communication, having no
experiment in ourselves, and, consequently, no notion of it at
all, we have no idea how spirits, which use not words, can
with quickness, or much less how spirits, that have no bodies, can
be masters of their own thoughts, and communicate or conceal
them at pleasure, though we cannot but necessarily suppose
they have such a power.

§. 37. Recapitulation. — And thus we have seen what kind of
ideas we have of substances of all kinds, wherein they consist,
and how we come by them. From whence, I think, it is
very evident.

First, That all our ideas of the several sorts of substances,
are nothing but collections of simple ideas, with a supposition
of something to which they belong, and in which they subsist ;
though of this supposed something we have no clear distinct
idea at all.

Secondly, That all the simple ideas that, thus united in one
common substratum, make up our complex ideas of several sorts

Ch. 24. COLLECTIVE IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 243

of the substances, are no other but such as we have received
from sensation or reflection. So that even in those which we
think we are most intimately acquainted with, and that come
nearest the comprehension of our most enlarged conceptions, we
cannot go bevond those simple ideas. And even in those which
seem most remote from all we have to do with, and do infinitely
surpass any thing we can perceive in ourselves by reflection, or
discover by sensation in other things, we can attain to nothing
but those simple ideas which we originally received from
sensation or reflection, as is evident in the complex ideas we
have of angels, and particularly of God himself.

TJiirdly, That most of the simple ideas that make up our
complex ideas of substances, when truly considered, are only
powers, however we are apt to take them for positive qualities ;
V. g. the greatest part of the ideas that make our complex idea
of gold, are yellowness, great weight, ductility, fusibility, and
solubility, in aqua regia, &c., all united together in an unknown
substratum ; all which ideas are nothing else but so many
relations to other substances, and are not really in the gold
considered barely in itself, though they depend on those real
and primary qualities of its internal constitution, whereby it has
a fitness difterently to operate, and be operated on by several
other substances.

CHAPTER XXIV.

OF COLLECTIVE IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES.

^. 1, One idea. — Besides these complex ideas of several
single substances, as of man, horse, gold, violet, apple, &c., the
mind hath also complex collective ideas of substances ; which I
so call, because such ideas are made up of many particular
substances considered together, as united into one idea, and
which so joined, are looked on as one; v. g. the idea of such a
collection of men as make an army, though consisting of a great
number of distinct substances, is as much one idea, as the idea
of a man : and the great collective idea of all bodies whatsoever,
signified by the name world, is as much one idea, as the idea of
any the least particle of matter in it; it sufficing to the unity of
any idea, that it be considered as one representation, or picture,
though made up of ever so many particulars.

§. 2. Made hy the power of composing in ilie mind. — These
collective ideas of substances the mind makes by its power of
composition, and uniting severally, either simple or complex

R 2

244 OF RELATION. Book 2.

ideas into one, as it does by the same faculty make the complex
ideas of particular substances, consisting of an aggregate of
divers simple ideas, united in one substance : and as the mind,
by putting together the repeated ideas of unity, makes the
collective mode, or complex idea, of any number, as a score, or
a gross, &c. ; so by putting together several particular sub-
stances, it makes collective ideas of substances, as a troop, an
army, a swarm, a city, a fleet ; each of which, every one finds,
that he represents to his own mind, by one idea, in one view ;
and so under that notion, considers those several things as
perfectly one, as one ship, or one atom. Nor is it harder to
conceive how an army of ten thousand men should make one
idea, than how a man should make one idea ; it being as easy
to the mind to unite into one, the idea of a great number of
men, and consider it as one, as it is to unite into one particular,
all the distinct ideas that make up the composition of a man,
and consider them altogether as one.

§. 3. All artificial things are collective ideas. — Amongst such
kind of collective ideas, are to be counted most part of artificial
things, at least such of them as are made up of distinct sub-
stances : and, in truth, if we consider all these collective ideas
aright, as army, constellation, universe, as they are united into
so many single ideas, they are but the artificial draughts of the
mind, bringing things very remote, and independent on one
another, into one view, the better to contemplate a^nd discourse
of them, united into one conception, and signified by one name.
For there are no things so remote, nor so contrary, which the
mind cannot, by this art of composition, bring into one idea, as
is visible in that signified by the name universe.

CHAPTER XXV.

OF RELATION.

§. 1. Relation, what. — Besides the ideas, whether simple or
complex, that the mind has of things, as they are in themselves,
there are others it gets from their comparison one with another.
The understanding, in the consideration of any thing, is not
confined to that precise object : it can carry any idea, as it
were, beyond itself, or, at least, look beyond it, to see how it
stands in conformity to any other. When the mind so con-
siders one thing, that it does, as it were, bring it to, and set it
by, another, and carry its view from one to the other : this is, as
the words import, relation and respect ; and the denominations

Ch. 25. OF RELATION. 245

given to positive things, intimating that respect, and serving as
marks to lead the thoughts beyond the subject itself deno-
minated, to something distinct from it, are what we call re-
latives : and the things so brought together, related. Thus,
when the mind considers Caius as such a positive being, it takes
nothing into that idea but what really exists in Caius; v. g.
when I consider him as a man, I have nothing in my mind
but the complex idea of the species, man. So likewise, when I
say Caius is a white man, I have nothing but the bare considera-
tion of a man, who hath that white colour. But when I give
Caius the name husband, I intimate some other person : and
when I give him the name whiter, I intimate some other thing.
in both cases, my thought is led to something beyond Caius,
and there are two things brought into consideration. And
since any idea, whether simple or complex, may be the occa-
sion why the mind thus brings two things together, and, as it
were, takes a view of them at once, though still considered as
distinct.; therefore, any of our ideas may be the foundation of
relation. As in the above-mentioned instance, the contract and
ceremony of marriage with Sempronia, is the occasion of the
denomination or relation of husband ; and it"^ colour white, the
occasion why he is said to be whiter than free-stone.

§. 2. Relations without correlative terms, not easily perceived.
— These, and the like relations, expressed by relative terms, that
have others answering them, with a reciprocal intimation, as
father and son, bigger and less, cause and effect, are very ob-
vious to every one, and every body at first sight perceives the
relation. For father and son, husband and wife, and such
other correlative terms, seems so nearly to belong one to another,
and, through custom, do so readily chime, and answer one
another, in people's memories, that upon the naming of either of
them, the thoughts are presently carried beyond the thing so
named ; and nobody overlooks, or doubts of, a relation, where it
is so plainly intimated. But where languages have failed to
give correlative names, there the relation is not always so easily
taken notice of. Concubine is, no doubt, a relative name, as
well as wife : but in languages where this, and the like words,
have not a correlative term, there people are not so apt to take
them to be so, as wanting that evident mark of relation which
is between correlatives, which seem to explain one another, and
not to be able to exist, but together. Hence it is, that many of
those names, which, duly considered, do include evident rela-
tions, have been called external denominations. But all names
that are more than empty sounds, must signify some idea,
which is either in the thing to which the name is applied ; and

r3

246 OF RELATION, Booh'2.

then it is positive, and is looked on as united to, and existing
in, the thing to which the denomination is given : or else it
arises from the respect the mind finds in it, to something dis-
tinct from it, with which it considers it; and then it concludes
a relation.

§. 3. Some seemingly absolute terms contain relations. —
Another sort of relative terms there is, which are not looked on to
be either relative, or so much as external, denominations ; which
yet, under the form and appearance of signifying something-
absolute in the subject, do conceal a tacit, though less observ-
able, relation. Such are the seemingly positive terms of old,
great, imperfect, &c., whereof I shall have occasion to speak
more at large in the following chapters.

§, 4. Relation dijferent from tlie things related. — This farther
may be observed, that the ideas of relation may be the same in
men, who have far different ideas of the things that are related,
or that are thus compared ; v. g. those who have far different
ideas of a man, may yet agree in the notion of a father : which
is a notion superinduced to the substance, or man, and refers
only to an act of that thing called man ; whereby he contributes
to the generatioi>,,^f one of his own kind, let man be what it
will.

§. 5. Change of relation may he without any change in the
subject. — The nature, therefore, of relation, consists in the re-
ferring or comparing two things one to another ; from which
comparison, one or both comes to be denominated. And if
either of those things be removed, or cease to be, the relation
ceases, and the denomination consequent to it, though the other
receive in itself no alteration at all : v. g. Caius, whom I con-
sider to day as a father, ceases to be so to-morrow, only by the
death of his son, without any alteration made in himself. Nay,
barely by the mind's changing the object to which it compares
any thing, the same thing is capable of having contrary de-
nominations at the same time : v. g. Caius, compared to several
persons, may be truly said to be older and younger, stronger
and weaker, &c.

§. 6. Relation only betwixt two things. — Whatsoever doth, or
can exist, or be considered as one thing, is positive : and so not
only simple ideas, and substances, but modes also, are positive
beings ; though the parts of which they consist, are very often
relative one to another ; but the whole together considered as
one thing, producing in us the complex idea of one thing,
which idea is in our minds, as one picture, though an aggregate
of divers parts, and under one name, it is a positive or absolute
thing, or idea. Thus a triangle, though the parts thereof, com-

C/*.25. OF RELATION. 247

pared one to another, be relative, yet the idea of the whole is a
positive absolute idea. The same may be said of a family, a
tune, ike. for there can be no relation but betwixt two things,
considered as two things. There must always be in relation two
ideas, or things, either in themselves really separate, or con-
sidered as distinct, and then a ground or occasion for their
comparison.

§. 7. All things capable of relation. — Concerning relation in
general, these things may be considered :

First, That there is no one thing, whether simple idea^ sub-
stance, mode, or relation, or name of either of them, which is
not capable of almost an infinite number of considerations, in
reference to other things ; and, therefore, this makes no small
part of men's thoughts and words : v. g. one single man may at
once be concerned in, and sustain, ail these following relations,
and many more, viz. father, brother, son, grandfather, grand-
son, father-in-law, son-in-law, husband, friend, enemy, subject,
general, judge, patron, client, professor, European, Englishman,
islander, servant, master, possessor, captain, superior, inferior,
bigger, less, older, younger, contemporary, like, unlike, &c., to
an almost infinite number : he being capable of as many re-
lations, as there can be occasions of comparing him to other
things, in any manner of agreement, disagreement, or respect
Avhatsoever : for, as I said, relation is a way of comparing, or
considering, two things together ; and giving one, or both of
them, some appellation from that comparison, and sometimes
giving even the relation itself a name.

§. 8. The ideas of relations clearer often, than of the subjects
related. — Secondbj, This farther may be considered concerning
relation, that though it be not contained in the real existence of
things, but something extraneous and super-induced ; yet the
ideas which relative words stand for, are often clearer, and more
distinct, than of those substances to which they do belong. The
notion we have of a father, or brother, is a great deal clearer,
and more distinct, than that we have of a man ; or, if you will,
paternity is a thing whereof it is easier to have a clearer idea,
than of humanity ; and I can much easier conceive what a friend
is, than what God ; because the knowledge of one action,,
or one simple idea, is oftentime sufficient to give me notion
of a relation ; but to the knowing of any substantial being, an
accurate collection of sundry ideas is necessary. A man, if he
compares two things together, can hardly be supposed not to
know what it is wherein he compares them ; so that when he
compares any things together, he cannot but have a very clear
idea of that relation. The ideas then of relations, are capable

r4

248 OF RELATION. B^okl.

at leant of being more perfect and distinct in our minds, than
those of substances ; because it is commonly hard to know all
the simple ideas which are really in any substance, but for the
most part easy enough to know the simple ideas that make up
any relation I think on, or have a name for ; v. g. comparing two
men, in reference to one common parent, it is very easy to frame
the ideas of brothers, without having yet the perfect idea of a
man. For significant relative words, as well as others, standing
only for ideas ; and those being all either simple, or made up of
simple, ones, it suffices, for the knowing the precise idea the
relative term stands for, to have a clear conception of that which
ig the foundation of the relation ; which may be done without
having a perfect and clear idea of the thing it is attributed to.
Thus having the notion that one laid the egg out of which the
other was hatched, I have a clear idea of the relation of dam
and chick, between the two cassiowaries in St. James's Park ;
though, perhaps, I have but a very obscure and imperfect idea
of those birds themselves.

§. 9. Relations all terminate in simple ideas. — T7tirc?/_y, Though
there be a great number of considerations wherein things may
be compared one witli another, and so a multitude of relations ;
yet they all terminate in, and are concerned about, those simple
ideas, either of sensation or reflection, which I think to be the
whole materials of all our knowledge. To clear this, I shall
show it in the most considerable relations that we have any
notion of; and in some that seem to be the most remote from
sense or reflection ; which yet will appear to have their ideas
from thence, and leave it past doubt, that the notions we have of
them are but certain simple ideas, and so originally derived from
sense or reflection.

§. 10. Terms leading the mindheyond the subject denominated,
are relative. — Fourthly, That relation being the considering of
one thing \yith another, whi<:h is extrinsical to it, it is evident;
that all words that necessarily lead the mind to any other ideas
than are supposed really to exist in that thing to which the word
is applied, are relative words ; v. g. a man black, merry, thought-
ful, thirsty, angry, extended ; these, and the like, are all abso-
lute, because they neither signify nor intimate any thing, but
what does, or is supposed really to, exist, in the man thus deno-
minated ; but father, brother, king, husband, blacker, merrier,
&c. are words, which, together with the thing they denominate,
imply also something else separate, and exterior to the existence
of that thing.

§. 11. Conclusion. — Having laid down these premises con-
cerning r^latiOiH in general, 1 shall now proceed to show, in some

0.2C. OF RELATION. 249

instances, how all the ideas we have of relation are made up, as
the others are, only of simple ideas ; and that they all, how
refined or remote from sense soever they seem, terminate at last
in simple ideas. I shall begin witli the most comprehensive
relation, wherein all things that do or can exist, are concerned,
and that is the relation of cause and effect. The idea whereof,
how derived from the two fountains of all our knowledge, sensa-
tion and reflection, 1 shall in the next place consider.

CHAPTER XXVI.

OF CAUSE AND EFFECT, AND OTHER RELATIONS.

§. 1. Whence their ideas got. — In the notice that our senses
take of the constant vicissitude of things, we cannot but observe,
that several particular, both qualities and substances, begin to
exist ; and that they receive this their existence from the due
application and operation of some other being. From this ob-
servation we get our ideas of cause and effect. That which pro-
duces any simple or complex idea, we denote by the general
name cause ; and that which is produced, effect. Thus finding,
that in that substance which we call wax, fluidity, which is a
simple idea, that was not in it before, is constantly produced by
the application of a certain degree of heat, we call the simple
idea of heat, in relation to fluidity in wax, the cause of it, and
fluidity, the effect. So also finding that the substance of wood,
which is a certain collection of simple ideas so called, by the
application of fire, is turned into another substance, called ashes ;
i. e. another complex idea, consisting of a collection of simple
ideas, quite different from that complex idea which we call
wood ; we consider fire, in relation to ashes, as cause, and the
ashes, as effect. So that whatever is considered by us to con-
duce or operate to the producing any particular simple idea, or
collection of simple ideas, whether substance, or mode, which
did not before exist, hath thereby in our minds the relation of a
cause, and so is denominated by us.

§. 2. Creation, generation, making alteration. — Having thus,
from what our senses are able to discover in the operations of
bodies on one another, got the notion of cause and effect, viz.
that a cause is that which makes any other thing, either simple
idea, substance, or mode, begin to be; and an eflfect is that
which had its beginning from some other thing ; the mind finds
no great difficulty to distinguish the several originals of things

nto two sorts :

250 OF RELATION. Book 2.

First, When the thing is wholly made new, so that no part
thereof did ever exist before ; as when a new particle of matter
doth begin to exist, in rerum natura, which had before no being,
and this we call creation.

Secondly, When a thing is made up of particles which did
all of them before exist, but that very thing so constituted of
pre-existing particles, which considered all together, make up
such a collection of simple ideas, as had not any existence before,
as this man, this egg, rose, or cherry. Sec. And this, when
referred to a substance, produced in the ordinary course of nature,
by an internal principle, but set on work by, and received from,
some external agent, or cause, and working by insensible ways,
which we perceive not, v/e call generation ; when the cause is
extrinsical, and the effect produced by a sensible separation, or
juxta position of discernible parts, we call it making ; and such
are all artificial things. W'hen any simple idea is produced,
which was not in that subject before, we call it alteration. Thus
a man is generated, a picture made, and either of them altered,
when any new sensible quality, or simple idea, is produced in
either of them, w hich was not there before ; and the things thus
made to exist, which were not there before, are effects ; and those
things which operated to the existence, causes. In which, and
all other cases, we may observe that the notion of cause and
effect has its rise from ideas received by sensation or reflection ;
and that this relation, how comprehensive soever, terminates at
last in them. For to have the idea of cause and effect, it
suffices to consider any simple idea, or substance, as beginning
to exist by the operation of some other, Avithout knowing the
manner of that operation.

§. 3. Relations of time. — Time and place are also the foun-
dations of very large relations, and all finite beings at least are
concerned in them. But having already shown, in another place,
how we get these ideas, it may suffice here to intimate, that most
of the denominations of things received from time, are only
relations ; thus, when any one says that Queen Elizabeth lived
sixty-nine, and reigned forty-five, years, these words import only
the relation of that duration to some other, and mean no more
but this, that the duration of her existence was equal to sixty-
nine, and the duration of her government, to forty-five, annual
revolutions of the sun ; and so are all words answering how
long. Again, William the Conqueror invaded England about
the year 1066, which means this : that taking the duration from
our Saviour's time, till now, for one entire great length of time,
it shows at what distance this invasion was from the two extremes;

CA. 20. OF RELATION. 251

and so do all words of time, answering to the question when,
which show only the distance of any point of time, from the
period of a longer duration, from which we measure, and to
which we thereby consider it as related.

§. 4. There are yet, besides those other words of time that
ordinarily are thought to stand for positive idea«, which yet will,
when considered, be found to be relative ; such as are young,
old, Sec, which include and intimate the relation any thing has
to a certain length of duration, whereof we have the idea in our
minds. Thus having settled in our thoughts the idea of the
ordinary duration of a man to be seventy years, when we say a
man is young, we mean that his age is yet but a small part of
that which usually men attain to ; and when we denominate him
old, we mean, that his duration is run out almost to the end of
that which men do not usually exceed. And so it is but com-
paring the particular age or duration of this or that man, to the
idea of that duration which we have in our minds, as ordinarily
belonging to that sort of animals ; which is plain in the appli-
cation of these names to other things ; for a man is called young
at twenty years, and very young at seven years old : but yet a
horse we call old at twenty, and a dog at seven, years ; because
in each of these, we compare their age to different ideas of
duration, which are settled in our mind as belonging to these
several sorts of animals, in the ordinary course of nature. But
the sun and stars, though they have out-lasted several genera-
tions of men, we call not old, because we do not know what
period God hath set to that sort of beings. This term belonging
properly to those things which we can observe in the ordinary
course of things, by a natural decay, to come to an end in a
certain period of time ; and so have in our minds, as it were, a
standard to which we can compare the several part!$ of their
duration ; and by the relation they bear thereunto, call them
young, or old ; which we cannot therefore do to a ruby, or
diamond, things whose usual periods we know not.

§. 5. Relations of jilace and extension. — The relation also that
things have to one another, in their places and distances, is very
obvious to observe ; as above, below, a mile distant from Charing
Cross, m England, and in London. But as in duration, so in
extension and bulk, there are some ideas that are relative, which
we signify by names that are thought positive ; as great and
little, are truly relations. For here also having, by observation,
settled in our minds the ideas of the bigness of several species
of things, from those we have been most accustomed to, we
make them, as it were, the standards whereby to denominate the
bulk of others. Thus we call a great apple, such a one as is

252 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. Booh 1.

bigger than the ordinary sort of those we have been used to;
and a little horse, such a one as comes not up to the size of that
idea which we have in our minds to belong ordinarily to horses ;
and that will be a great horse to a Welchman, which is but a
little one to a Fleming ; they two having, from the different breed
of their countries, taken several sized ideas to which they com-
pare, and in relation to which they denominate, their great and
their little.

§. 6. Absolute terms often stand for relations. — So likewise
weak and strong are but relative denominations of power, com-
pared to some ideas we have, at that time, of greater or less
power. Thus when we say a weak man, we mean one that has
not so much strength or power to move, as usually men have, or
usually those of his size have ; which is a comparing his strength
to the idea we have of the usual strength of men, or men of such
a size. The like when we say the creatures are all weak things;
weak, there, is but a relative term, signifying the disproportion
there is in the power of God and the creatures. And so abun-
dance of words, in ordinary speech, stand only for relations
(and, perhaps, the greatest part), which at first sight seem to
have no such signification ; v. g. the ship has necessary stores.
Necessary and stores, are both relative words ; one having a
relation to the accomplishing the voyage intended, and the other
to future use. All which relations, how they are confined to,
and terminate in, ideas derived from sensation or reflection, is
too obvious to need any explication.

CHAPTER XXVII.

OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY.

§. 1. Wherein identity consists. — Another occasion the mind
often takes of comparing, is the very being of things, when
considering any thing as existing, at any determined time and
place, we compare it with itself, existing at another time, and,
thereon, form the ideas of identity and diversity. When we see
any thing to be in any place in any instant of time, v/e are sure
(be it what it will) that it is that very thing, and not another,
which at that same time exists in another place, how like and
undistinguishable soever it may be in all other respects ; and
in this consists identity, when the ideas it is attributed to, vary
not at all from what they were that moment, wherein we con-
sider their former existence, and to which we compare the
present. For we never finding, nor conceiving it possible, that

Ch.ll. OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 253

two things of the same kind should exist in the same place at
the same time, we rightly conclude, that whatever exists any
where at any time, excludes all of the same kind, and is there
itself alone. When, therefore, we demand whether any thing be
the same or no ? it refers always to something that existed such a
time, in such a jjlace, which, it was certain, at that instant, was the
same with itself, and no other ; from whence it follows, that one
thing cannot have two beginnings of existence, nor two things
one beginning, it being impossible for two things of the same
kind, to be or exist in the same instant, in the very same place,
or one and the same thing, in different places. That, therefore,
that had one beginning, is the same thing ; and that which had a
different beginning in time and place from that, is not the same,
but diverse. That which has made the difficulty about this rela-
tion, has been the little care and attention used in having precise
notions of the things to which it is attributed.

§. 2. Identity of substances. — We have the ideas but of three
sorts of substances ; l,God. 2, Finite intelligences. 3, Bodies.
First, God is without beginning, eternal, unalterable, and every
where ; and, therefore, concerning his identity, there can be no
doubt. Secondly, Finite spirits having had each its determinate
time and place of beginning to exist, the relation to that time
and place will always determine to each of them its identity, as
long as it exists. Thirdly, The same will hold of every particle
of matter, to which no addition or subtraction of matter being-
made, it is the same. For though these three sorts of substances,
as we term them, do not exclude one another out of the same
place ; yet we cannot conceive but that they must necessarily,
each of them, exclude any of the same kind out of the same
place ; or else the notions and names of identity and diversity
would be in vain, and there could be no such distinction of sub-
stances, or any thing else, one from another. For example :
could two bodies be in the same place at the same time ; then
those two parcels of matter must be one and the same, take
them great or little ; nay, all bodies must be one and the same.
For, by the same reason that two particles of matter may be
in one place, all bodies may be in one place ; which, when it
can be supposed, takes away the distinction of identity and
diversity of one and more, and renders it ridiculous. But it
being a contradiction, that two or more should be one, identity
and diversity are relations and wavs of comparing well founded,
and of use to the understanding.

Identity of modes. — All other things being but modes of
relations ultimately terminated in substances, the identity and
diversity of each particular existence of them too, will be, by

254 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. Book 2.

the same way, determined ; only as to things whose exist-
ence is in succession, such as are the actions of finite beings,
V. g. motion and thought, both which consist in a continued
train of succession, concerning their diversity, there can be no
question ; because each perishing the moment it begins, they
cannot exist in different times, or in different places, as perma-
nent beings can, at different times, exist in distant places ; and,
therefore, no motion or thought, considered as at different times,
can be the same, each part thereof having a different beginning
of existence.

§. 3. Principium individuaflonis. — From what has been said,
it is easy to discover what is so much enquired after, the princi-
pium individuationis ; and that, it is plain, is existence itself,
which determines a being of any sort to a particular time and
place incommunicable to two beings of the same kind. This,
though it seems easier to conceive in simple substances or
modes, yet when reflected on, is not more difficult in com-
pound ones, if care be taken to what it is applied; v. g., let
us suppose an atom, i.e., a continued body, under one immu-
table superficies, existing in a determined time and place; it is
evident, that considered in any instant of its existence, it is, in
that instant, the same with itself. For being at that instant
what it is, and nothino- else, it is the same, and so must continue
as long as its existence is continued ; for so long it will be the
same, and no other. In like manner, if two or more atoms be
joined together into the same mass, every one of those atoms
will be the same, by the foregoing rule. And whilst they exist
united together, the mass, consisting of the same atoms, must
be the same mass, or the same body, let the parts be ever so
differently jumbled ; but if one of these atoms be taken away,
or one new one added, it is no longer the same mass, or the same
body. In the state of the living creatures, their identity depends
not on a mass of the same particles, but on something else.
For in them the variation of great parcels of matters alters not
the identity ; an oak growing from a plant to a great tree, and
then lopped, is still the same oak ; and a colt grown up to a
horse, sometimes fat, sometimes lean, is all the while the same
horse ; though, in both these cases, there may be a manifest
change of the parts ; so that truly they are not, either of them,
the same masses of matter, though they be truly one of them,
the same oak; and the other, the same horse. The reason
whereof is, that in these two cases, a mass of matter, and a
living body, identity is not applied to the same thing.

§. 4. Identity of vegetables. — We must, therefore, consider
wherein an oak differs from a mass of matter, and that seems to

Ch. 27. OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 255

ine to be in this ; that the one is only the cohesion of particles
of matter any how united ; the other, such a disposition of them,
as constitutes the parts of an oak ; and such an organization of
those parts, as is fit to receive, and distribute nourishment, so
as to continue and frame the wood, bark, and leaves. Sec, of an
oak, in which consists the vegetable life. That being then one
plant, which has such an organization of parts in one coherent
body, partaking of one common life, it continues to be the same
plant, as long as it partakes of the same life, though that life be
communicated to new particles of matter vitally united to the
living plant, in a like continued organization, conformable to
that sort of plants. For this organization being, at any one
instant, in any one collection of matter, is in that particular
concrete distinguished from all other, and is that individual
life, which existing constantly from that moment both forwards
and backwards, in the same continuity of insensibly succeeding
parts united to the living body of the plant, it has that identity
which makes the same plant, and all the parts of it, parts of the
same plant, during all the time that they exist united in that
continued organization, which is fit to convey that common life
to all the parts so united.

§. 5. Identity of animals. — The case is not so much different
in brutes, but that any one may hence see what makes an animal,
and continues it the same. Something we have like this in
machines, and may serve to illustrate it. For example, what is
a watch ? It is plain it is nothing but a fit organization or con-
struction of parts, to a certain end, which, when a sufficient
force is added to it, it is capable to attain. If we would sup-
pose this machine one continued body, all whose organized parts
were repaired, increased, or diminished, by a constant addition
or separation of insensible parts with one common life, we
should have something very much like the body of an animal,
with this difference, that in an animal, the fitness of the orga-
nization, and the motion wherein life consists, begin together,
the motion coming from within; but in machines, the force
coming sensibly from without, is often away when the organ is
in order, and well fitted to receive it.

§- 6. Identity of man. — This also shows wherein the identity
of the same man consists ; viz., in nothing but a participation
of the same continued life, by constantly fleeting particles of
matter, in succession, vitally united to the same organized body.
He that shall place the identity of man in any thing else, but
like that of other animals, in one fitly organized body, taken in
any one instant, and from thence continued, under one organi-
zation of life, in several successively fleeting particles of mattei.

256 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. Bookl.

united to it, will find it hard to make an embryo, one of years,
mad and sober, the same man, by any supposition that will not
make it possible for Seth, Ishmael, Socrates, Pilate, St. Austin,
and Ceesar Borgia, to be the same man. For if the identity of
soul alone, makes the same man, and there be nothino- in the
nature of matter, why the same individual spirit may not be
united to different bodies, it will be possible that those men,
living in distant ages, and of different tempers, may have been
the same man ; which way of speaking must be, from a very
strange use of the word man, applied to an idea out of which body
and shape are excluded ; and that way of speaking would agree
yet worse with the notions of those philosophers, who allow of
transmigration, and are of opinion that the souls of men may,
for their miscarriages, be detruded into the bodies of beasts, as
fit habitations, with organs suited to the satisfaction of their
brutal inclinations. But yet, I think, nobody, could he be sure
that the soul of Heliogabalus were in one of his hogs, would yet
say that hog were a man, or Heliogabalus.

§. 7. Identity suited to the idea. — It is not, therefore, unity of
substance that comprehends all sorts of identity, or will deter-
mine it in every case; but to conceive and judge of it aright, we
must consider what idea the word it is applied to, stands for ; it
being one thing to be the same substance ; another, the same man ;
and a third, the same person; if person; man, and substance, are
three names standing for three different ideas ; for such as is the
idea belonging to that name, such must be the identity ; which,
if it had been a little more carefully attended to, would possibly
have prevented a great deal of that confusion which often
occurs about this matter, with no small seeming difficulties,
especially concerning personal identity, which, therefore, we
shall in the next place a little consider.

§. 8. Same man. — An animal is a living organized body ; and
frequently the same animal, as we have observed, is the same
continued life communicated to different particles of matter, as
they happen successively to be united to that organized living
body. And whatever is talked of other definitions, ingenious
observation puts it past doubt, that the idea in our minds, of
vi^hich the sound man in our mouths is the sign, is nothing else
but of an animal of such a certain form ; since I think I may
be confident, that whoever should see a creature of his own
shape and make, though it had no more reason all its life than a
cat or a parrot, would call him still a man ; or, whoever should
hear a cat or a parrot discourse, reason, and philosophize, would
call or think it nothing but a cat or a parrot; and say, the one
was a dull irrational man, and the other a very intelligent ra-

CA. 27. OF IDENTITV AND DIVERSITV. 257

tional parrot, A relation we have in an author of great note, is
suflicient to countenance the supposition of a rational parrot.
His words* are,

" I had a mind to know from Prince Maurice's own mouth,
the account of a common, but much credited, story, that I had
heard so often from many others, of an old parrot he had in
Brazil, during his government there, that spoke, and asked, and
answered, common questions, like a reasonable creature ; so that
those of his train there, generally concluded it to be witchery
or possession ; and one of his chaplains, who lived long after-
wards in Holland, would never, from that time, endure a parrot,
but said, they all had a devil in them. I had heard many par-
ticulars of this story, and assevered by people hard to be dis-
credited, which made me ask Prince Maurice what there was of it?
He said, with his usual plainness and dryness in talk, there was
something true, but a great deal false, of what had been reported.
I desired to know of him what there was of the first ? He told
me short and coldly, that he had heard of such an old parrot
when he had been at Brazil ; and though he believed nothing of
it, and it was a good way off, yet he had so much curiosity as to
send for it ; that it was a very great and a very old one ; and when
it came first into the room where the prince was, with a great
many Dutchmen about him, it said presently, 'What a company
of white men are here !' They asked it what it thought that
man was ? pointing at the prince. It answered, ' Some general
or other;' when they brought it close to him, he asked it, J)'om
venezvous? Whence come ye? It answered, De Marinnan.
' From Marinnan.' The prince, A qui estes-vous ? ' To whom
do you belong V Parrot, A un Portugais. ' To a Portuguese.'
Prince, Que fais-tu Id ? ' What do you there V The parrot,
Je guide les poules. ' I look after the chickens.' The prince
laughed, and said, Vous gardez les poules? 'You look after the
chickens?' The parrot answered, Oui,moi; etje s^ai hienfaire;
• Yes, I ; and I know well enough how to do it ;' and made the
chuck, four or five times, that people use to make to chickens
when they call them. I set down the words of this worthy
dialogue in French, just as Prince Maurice said them to me. I
asked him in what language the parrot spoke ? and he said, in
Brazilian. I asked whether he understood Brazilian? he said,
no : but he had taken care to have two interpreters by him, the
one, a Dutchman that spoke Brazilian, and the other, a Brazilian
that spoke Dutch; that he asked them separately and privately.

* Memoirs of what passed in CliristenJon;, from lC75i to 1679, p. r^y

s

258 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. Booh 2.

and both of them agreed in telling him just the same thing that
the parrot had said. I could not but tell this odd story, because
it is so much out of the way, and from the first hand, and what
may pass for a good one ; for I dare say this prince, at least,
believed himself in all he told me, having ever passed for a very
honest and pious man. I leave it to naturalists to reason,
and to other men to believe, as they please upon it ; how-
ever, it is not, perhaps, amiss to relieve or enliven a busy
scene sometimes with such digressions, whether to the purpose
or no."

Same man. — I have taken care that the reader should have
the story at large in the author's own words, because he seems
to me not to have thought it incredible ; for it cannot be ima-
gined tliat so able a man as he, who had sufficiency enough to
warrant all the testimonies he gives of himself, should take so
much pains, in a place where it had nothing to do, to pin so
close, not only on a man whom he mentions as his friend, but on
a prince, in whom he acknowledges very great honesty and piety,
a story, v.'hich, if he himself thought incredible, he could not.
but also think ridiculous. The prince, it is plain, who vouches
this story, and our author, who relates it from him, both of
them call this talker a parrot : and I ask any one else, who
thinks such a story fit to be told, whether if this parrot, and all
of its kind, had always talked, as we have a prince's word for it
this one did ; whether, I say, they would not have passed for
a race of rational animals ; but yet, whether, for all that, they
would have been allowed to be men, and not parrots ? For I
presume it is not the idea of a thinking or rational being-
alone, that makes the idea of a man in most people's sense, but
of a body, so and so shaped, joined to it ; and if that be the
idea of a man, the same successive body not shifted all at
once, must, as well as the same immaterial spirit, go to the
making of the same man.

§. 9. Personal identity. — This being premised, to find wherein
personal identity consists, we must consider what person stands
for ; which, I think, is a thinking intelligent being, that has
reason and reflection, and can consider itself, as itself, the same
thinking thing in different times and places ; which it does only
by that consciousness which is inseparable from thinking, and, as
it seems to me, essential to it ; it being impossible for any one
to perceive, without perceiving that he does perceive. When we
hear, smell, taste, feel, meditate, or will any thing, we know that
we do so. Thus it is always as to our present sensations and
perceptions ; and by this every one is to himself that which he
calls self; it not being considered in this case, whether the same

Ch.'ll. OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 259

self be continued in the same or divers substances. For since
consciousness always accompanies thinking, and it is that which
makes every one to be what he calls self, and thereby dis-
tinguishes himself from all other thinking things ; in this, alone,
consists personal identity, i. e. the sameness of a rational being ;
and as far as this consciousness can be extended backwards, to
any past action or thought, so far reaches the identity of that
})erson ; it is the same self now, it was then; and it is by the
same self with this present one, that now reflects on it, that that
action was done,

§. 10. Consciousness makes personal identity . — But it is farther
enquired, whether it be the same identical substance ? This,
few would think they had reason to doubt of, if those per-
ceptions, with their consciousness, always remained present in
the mind, whereby the same thinking thing would be always
consciously present, and, as would be thought, evidently the
same to itself. But that which seems to make the difficulty, is
this, that this consciousness being interrupted always by for-
getfulness, there being no moment of our lives wherein we
have the whole train of all our past actions before our eyes in
one view ; but even the best memories losing the sight of one
part, whilst they are viewing another : and we sometimes, and
that the greatest part of our lives, not reflecting on our past
selves, being intent on our present thoughts ; and in sound sleep,
having no thoughts at all, or, at least, none with that conscious-
ness which remarks our waking thoughts : I say, in all these
cases, our consciousness being interrupted, and we losing the
sight of our past selves, doubts are raised whether we are the
same thinking thing, i. e. the same substance, or no; which,
however reasonable, or unreasonable, concerns no personal
identity at all : the question being, what makes the same
person ? and not whether it be the same identical substance,
which always thinks in the same person ; which in this case
matters not at all : different substances, by the same conscious-
ness (where they do partake in it), being united into one person,
as well as difl'erent bodies, by the same life, are united into one
animal, whose identity is preserved, in that change of sub-
stances, by the unity of one continued life. For it being the
same consciousness that makes a man be himself to himself,
personal identity depends on that only, whether it be annexed
solely to one individual substance, or can be continued in a suc-
cession of several substances. For as far as any intelligent
being can repeat the idea of any past action with the same con-
sciousness it had of it at first, and with the same consciousness
it has of any present action ; so far it is the same personal self.

s 2

260 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. Book 2.

For it is by the consciousness it has of its present thoughts and
actions, that it is self to itself now, and so will be the same self,
as far as the same consciousness can extend to actions past or
to come ; and would be by distance of time, or change of sub-
stance, no more two persons, than a man be two men, by wearing
other clothes to day that he did yesterday, with a long or a'short
sleep between ; the same consciousness uniting those distant
actions into the same person, whatever substances contributed to
their production.

§. 11. Personal identity in change of substances. — That this
is so, we have some kind of evidence in our very bodies, all
whose particles, whilst vitally united to this same thinking con-
scious self, so that we feel when they are touched, and are
affected by, and conscious of, good or harm that happens to
them, are a part of ourselves ; i. e. of our thinking conscious
self. Thus the limbs of his body are to every one a part of him-
self; he sympathizes and is concerned for them. Cut off an
hand, and thereby separate it from that consciousness he had of
its heat, cold, and other affections, and it is then no longer a
part of that which is himself, any more than the remotest part
of matter. Thus we see the substance, whereof personal self
consisted at one time, may be varied at another, without the
change of personal identity ; there being no question about
the same person, though the limbs, which but now were a part
of it, be cut off.

§, 12. Whether in the change of thinking substances. — But the
question is, whether if the same substance, which thinks, be
changed, it can be the same person; or remaining the same, it
can be different persons.

And to this I answer. First, This can be no question at all to
those who place thought in a purely material animal consti-
tution, void of an immaterial substance. For, whether their
supposition be true or no, it is plain they conceive personal
identity preserved in something else than identity of substance ;
as animal identity is preserved in identy of life, and not of sub-
stance. And, therefore, those who place thinking in an imma-
terial substance only, before they can come to deal with these
men, must show why personal identity cannot be preserved in the
change of immaterial substances, or variety of particular imma-
terial substances, as well as animal identity is preserved in the
change of material substances, or variety of particular bodies ;
unless they will say, it is one immaterial spirit that makes the.
same life in brutes, as it is one immaterial spirit that makes the
same person in men, which the Cartesians at least will not admit,
for fear of making brutes thinking things too.

§. 13. But next, as to the first part of the question, "whether

Ch. 27. OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 26i

if the same thinking substance (supposing immaterial substances
only to think) be changed, it can be the same person ?" I an-
swer, that cannot be resolved, but by those who know what
kind of substances they are that do think ; and whether the
consciousness of past actions can be transferred from one think-
ing substance to another. I grant, were the same consciousness
the same individual action, it could not : but it being but a
l)resent representation of a past action, why it may not be pos-
sible that that may be represented to the mind to have been,
which really never was, will remain to be shown. And, there-
fore, how far the consciousness of past actions is annexed to
any individual agent, so that another cannot possibly have it,
will be hard for us to determine, till we know what kind of
action it is, that cannot be done without a reflex act of percep-
tion accompanying it, and how performed by thinking sub-
stances, who cannot think without being conscious of it. But
that which we call the same consciousness, not being the same
individual act, why one intellectual substance may not have
represented to it, as done by itself, what it never did, and was
perhaps done by some other agent : why, I say, such a repre-
sentation may not possibly be without reality of matter of fact,
as well as several representations in dreams are, which yet,
whilst dreaming, we take for true, will be difficult to conclude
from the nature of things. And that it never is so, will by us,
till we have clearer views of the nature of thinking substances,
be best resolved into the goodness of God, who, as far as the
happiness or misery of any of his sensible creatures is con-
cerned in it, will not, by a fatal error of theirs, transfer from
one to another that consciousness which draws reward or pu-
nishment with it. How far this may be an argument against
those who would place thinking in a system of fleeting animal
spirits, I leave to be considered. But yet, to return to the
question before us, it must be allowed, that if the same con-
sciousness (which, as has been shown, is quite a different thing
from the same numerical figure or motion in body) can be
transferred from one thinking substance to another, it will be
possible, that two thinking substances may make but one per-
son. For the same consciousness being preserved, whether in
the same or diff'erent substances, the personal identity is pre-
served.

§. 14. As to the second part of the question, " whether the
same immaterial substance remaining, there may be two distinct
persons ?" Which question seems to me to be built on this,
whether the same immaterial being, being conscious of the
action of its past duration, may be wholly stripped of all the

s 3

2G2 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. Book 2.

consciousness of its past existence, and lose it beyond the power
of ever retrieving it again : and so, as it were, beginning a new
account from a new period, have a consciousness that cannot
reach beyond this new state. All those who hold pre-existence,
are evidently of this mind, since they allow the soul to have no
remaining consciousness of what it did in that pre-existent
state, either wholly separate from body, or informing any other
body ; and if they should not, it is plain, experience would be
against them. So that personal identity reaching no farther
than consciousness reaches, a pre-existent spirit not having con-
tinued so many ages in a state of silence, must needs make dif-
ferent persons. Suppose a Christian, platonist, or pythagorean,
should, upon God's having ended all his works of creation the
seventh day, think his soul hath existed ever since ; and would
imagine it has revolved in several human bodies, as I once met
with one, who was persuaded his had been the soul of Socrates
(how reasonably I will not dispute. This I know, that in the
post he filled, which was no inconsiderable one, he passed for
a veiy rational man ; and the press has shown that he wanted
not parts or learning), would any one say, that he being not
conscious of any of Socrates's actions or thoughts, could be the
same person with Socrates ? Let any one reflect upon himself,
and conclude, that he has in himself an immaterial spirit, which
is that w hich thinks in him, and in the constant change of his
body keeps him the same ; and is that which he calls himself:
let him also suppose it to be the same soul that was in Nestor
or Thersites at the siege of Troy (for souls being, as far as we
know any thing of them in their nature, indifferent to any par-
cel of matter, the supposition has no apparent absurdity in it),
which it may have been, as well as it is now, the soul of any
other man : but he now having no consciousness of any of the
actions either of Nestor or Thersites, does, or can he, conceive
himself the same person with either of them ? Can he be con-
cerned in either of their actions ? Attribute them to himself, or
think them his own, more than the actions of any other man that
ever existed ? So that this consciousness not reaching to any
of the actions of either of those men, he is no more one self
with either of them, than if the soul or immaterial spirit that
now informs him, had been created, and began to exist, when it
began to inform his present body, though it were ever so true,
that the same spirit that informed Nestor's or Thersites's body,
were numerically the same that now informs his. For this
would no more make him the same person with Nestor, than if
some of the particles of matter that were once a part of Nestor,
veve now a part of this man ; the same immaterial substance.

CA.27. OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 263

without the same consciousness, no more making the same per-
son by being united to any body, than the same particle of
matter, without consciousness, united to any body, makes the
same person. But let him once find himself conscious of any
of the actions of Nestor, he then finds himself the same person
with Nestor.

§. 15. And thus we may be able, without any difficulty, to
conceive the same person at the resurrection, though in a body
not exactly in make or parts the same which he had here, the
same consciousness going along with the soul that inhabits it.
But yet the soul alone, in the change of bodies, would scarce to
any one, but to him that makes the soul the man, be enough to
make the same man. For should the soul of a prince, carrying
with it the consciousness of the prince's past life, enter and in-
form the body of a cobler, as soon as deserted by his own soul,
every one sees he would be the same person with the prince,
accountable only for the prince's actions : but who would say
it was the same man ? The body too goes to the making the
man, and would, I guess, to every body, determine the man in
this case, wherein the soul, with all its princely thoughts about
it, would not make another man : but he would be the same
cobler to every one besides himself. I know that in the ordinary
way of speaking, the same person, and the same man, stand for
one and the same thing. And, indeed, every one will always
have a liberty to speak as he pleases, and to apply what articu-
late sounds to what ideas he thinks fit, and change them as often
as he pleases. But yet, when we will enquire what makes the
same spirit, man, or person, we must fix the ideas of spirit,
man, or person, in our minds ; and having resolved with ourselves
what we mean by them, it will not be hard to determine in
either of them, or the like, when it is the same, and when
not.

§. 16. Consciousness makes the same person. — But though the
same immaterial substance or soul, does not alone, wherever it
be, and in whatsoever state, make the same man ; yet it is plain,
consciousness, as far as ever it can be extended, should it be to
ages past, unites existences and actions, very remote in time,
into the same person, as well as it does the existences and
actions of the immediately preceding moment : so that what-
ever has the consciousness of present and past actions. Is the
same person to whom they both belong. Had I the same con-
sciousness that I saw the ark and Noah's flood, as that I saw
an overflowing of the Thames last winter, or as that I Ayrite
now, I could no more doubt that I who write this now, that saw
the Thames overflowed last winter, and that viewed the flood at

s 4

264 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. Bookl.

the general deluge, was the same self, place that self in what
substance you please, than that I who write this am the same
myself now, whilst I write (whether I consist of all the same
substance, material or immaterial, or no), that I was yesterday.
For as to this point of being the same self, it matters not
whether this present self be made up of the same or other sub-
stances, I being as much concerned, and as justly accountable,
for any action that was done a thousand years since, appropriated
to mc now by this self consciousness, as I am for what I did the
last moment.

§. 17. Self depends on consciousness. — Self is that conscious
thinking thing, whatever substance made up of (whether spi-
ritual or material, simple or compounded, it matters not), which
is sensible, or conscious of pleasure and pain, capable of hap-
piness or misery, and so is concerned for itself, as far as that
consciousness extends. Thus every one finds, that whilst com-
prehended under that consciousness, the little finger is as much
a part of itself, as what is most so. Upon separation of this
little finger, should this consciousness go along with the little
finger, and leave the rest of the body, it is evident the little
finger would be the person, the same person ; and self, then,
would have nothing to do with the rest of the body. As, in this
case, it is the consciousness that goes along with the substance,
when one part is separate from another, which makes the same
person, and constitutes this inseparable self; so it is in refer-
ence to substances remote in time. That with which the con-
sciousness of this present thinking thing can join itself, makes the
same person, and is one self with it, and with nothing else ; and so
attributes to itself, and owns all the actions of that thing as its
own, as far as that consciousness reaches, and no farther ; as
every one who reflects will perceive.

§. 18. Objects of reward a7id punishment. — In this personal
identity is founded all the right and justice of reward and
punishment; happiness and misery being that for which every
one is concerned for himself, and not mattering what becomes of
any substance, not joined to, or affected with, that consciousness.
For as it is evident in the instance I gave but now, if the con-
sciousness went along with the little finger, when it was cut off,
that would be the same self which was concerned for the whole
body yesterday, as making part of itself, whose actions then, it
cannot but admit as its own now. Though if the same body
should still live, and immediately, from the separation of the
little finger, have its own peculiar consciousness, whereof the
little finger knew nothing, it w^ould not all be concerned for
it, as a part of itself, or could own any of its actions, or have
any of them imputed to him.

Ch. 27. OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 265

§. 19. This may show iis wherein personal identity consists
not in the identity of substance, but, as I have said, in the identit y
of consciousness, M'herein, if Socrates and the present Mayor of
Queenborough agree, they are the same person ; if the same So-
crates, waking and sleeping, do not partake of the same con
sciousness, Socrates waking and sleeping, is not the same person.
And to punish Socrates waking, for what sleeping Socrates
thouoht. and wakins; Socrates was never conscious of, would be
no more of right, than to punish one twin for what his brother-
twin did, whereof he knew nothing, because their outsides were
so like, that they could not be distinguished ; for such twins
have been seen.

§. 20. But yet possibly it will still be objected, suppose I
wholly lose the memory of some parts of my life, beyond a pos-
sibility of retrieving them, so that perhaps I shall never be con-
scious of them again ; yet am I not the same person that did
those actions, had those thoughts that I once was conscious of,
though I have now forgot them ? to which I answer, that we
must here take notice what the word I is applied to ; which, in
this case, is the man only. And the same man being presumed
to be the same person, I is easily here supposed to stand also for
the same person. But if it be possible for the same man to have
distinct incommunicable consciousness at different times, it is
past doubt the same man would at different times, make different
persons ; which, we see, is the sense of mankind in the solemnest
declarations of their opinions, human laws not punishing the
mad man for the sober man's actions, nor the sober man for what
the mad man did, thereby making them two persons ; which is
somewhat explained by our way of speaking in English, when
we say, such an one is not himself, or is beside himself; in
which phrases it is insinuated, as if those who now, or at least
first, used them, thought that self was changed, the self-same
person was no longer in that man.

§. 21. Difference between identity of man and person. — But
yet it is hard to conceive that Socrates, the same individual
man, should be two persons. To help us a little in this, we
must consider what is meant by Socrates, or the same individual
man.

First, It must be either the same individual, immaterial,
thinking substance ; in short, the same numerical soul, and
nothing else.

Secondhj, Or the same animal, without any regard to an imma-
terial soul.

Thirdly, Or the same immaterial spirit united to the same
animal.

2(i6 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. Book 2.

Now, take which of these suppositions you please, it is im-
possible to make personal identity to consist in any thing but
consciousness ; or reach any farther than that does.

For by the first of them, it must be allowed possible, that a
man born of different women, and in distant times, may be the
same man. A way of speaking, which, whoever admits, must
allow it possible for the same man to be two distinct persons,
as any two that have lived in different ages, without the know-
ledge of one another's thoughts.

By the second and third, Socrates in this life, and after it,
cannot be the same man, any way, but by the same consciousness ;
and so making human identity to consist in the same thing
wherein we place personal identity, there will be no difficulty to
allovv^ the same man to be the same person. But then they who
place human identity in consciousness only, and not in some-
thing else, must consider how^ they will make the infant Socrates
the same man with Socrates after the resurrection. But what-
soever to some men makes a man, and consequently the same
individual man, wherein perhaps few are agreed, personal identity
can by us be placed in nothing but consciousness, (which is
that alone which makes what we call self) without involving us
in great absurdities.

§. 22. But is not man, drunk and sober, the same person?
why else is he punished for the fact he commits when drunk,
though he be never afterwards conscious of it? just as much
the same person, as a man that walks, and does other things in
his sleep, is the same person, and is answerable for any mischief
he shall do in it. Human laws punish both with a justice suit-
able to their way of knowledge ; because, in these cases, they
cannot distinguish certainly what is real, what counterfeit ; and
so the ignorance in drunkenness or sleep, is not admitted as a
plea. For though punishment be annexed to personality, and
personality to consciousness, and the drunkard perhaps be not
conscious of what he did ; yet human judicatures justly punish
him ; because the fact is proved against him. but want of con-
sciousness cannot be proved for him. But in the great day,
wherein the secrets of all hearts shall be laid open, it may be
reasonable to think no one shall be made to answer for what he
knows nothing of; but shall receive his doom, his conscience
accusing or excusing him.

§. 23. Consciousness alone makes self. — Nothing but conscious-
ness can unite remote existences into the same person, the
identity of substance will not do it ; for whatever substance there
is, however framed, without consciousness, there is no person ;

CA. 27. OF IDENTITY AND DIVEIISITY. 267

and a carcase may be a person, as well as any sort of substanee
be so, without consciousness.

Could we suppose two distinct incommunicable conscious-
nesses acting the same body, the one constantly by day, the
oiher by night; and, on the other side,- the same consciousness,
acting by intervals, two distinct bodies ; I a&k, in the first case,
whether the day and the niglit man would not be two as distinct
persons, as Socrates and Plato ? And whether in the second
case, there would not be one person in two distinct bodies, as
much as one man is the same in two distinct clothings. Nor
is it at all material to say, that this same, and this distinct, con-
sciousness in the cases above-mentioned, is owing to the same
and distinct immaterial substances, bringing it with them to
those bodies, which, whether true or no, alters not the case ;
since it is evident the personal identity would equally be deter-
mined by the consciousness, whether that consciousness were
annexed to some individual immaterial substance or no. For
granting that the thinking substance in man must be necessarily
supposed immaterial, it is evident that immaterial thinking thing-
may sometimes part with its past consciousness, and be restored to
it again ; as appears in the forgetfulness men often have of their
past actions, and the mind many times recovers the memory of
a past consciousness, which it had lost for twenty years together.
Make these intervals of memory and forgetfulness to take their
turns regularly by day and night, and you have two persons with
the same immaterial spirit, as much as in the former instance,
two persons with the same body. So that self is not determined
by identity or diversity of substance, which it cannot be sure of,
but only by identity of consciousness.

§. 24. Indeed it may conceive the substance whereof it is
now made up, to have existed formerly, united in the same con-
scious being ; but consciousness removed, that substance is no
more itself, or makes no more a part of it, than any other sub-
stance ; as is evident in the instance we have already given of
a limb cut off, of whose heat, or cold, or other affections,
having no longer any consciousness, it is no more of a man's
self, than any other matter of the universe. In like manner it
will be in reference to any immaterial substance, which is void
of that consciousness whereby I am myself to myself : if there
be any part of its existence which I cannot, upon recollection,
join with that present consciousness whereby I am now myself,
it is in that part of its existence no more myself, than any other
immaterial being. For whatsoever any substance has thought or
done, which I cannot recollect, and by my consciousness make
my own thought and action, it will no more belong to me.

268 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. Book 2.

whether a part of me thought or did it, than if it had been
thought or done by any other immaterial being any where
existing.

§. 25. I agree, the more probable opinion is, that this
consciousness is annexed to, and the affection of, one individual
immaterial substance.

But let men, according to their diverse hypotheses, resolve of
that as they please. This every intelligent being, sensible of
happiness or misery, must grant, that there is something that is
himself, that he is concerned for, and would have happy ; that
his se If has existed in a continued duration more than one
instant, and therefore it is possible may exist, as it has done,
months and years to come, without any certain bounds to be set
to its duration; and may be the same self, by the same con-
sciousness, continued on for the future. And thus, by his
consciousness, he finds himself to be the same self which did
such or such an action some years since, by which he comes to
be happy or miserable now. In all which account of self, the
same numerical substance is not considered as making the same
self. But the same continued consciousness, in which several
substances may have been united, and again separated from it,
which, whilst they continued in a vital union with that wherein
this consciousness then resided, made a part of that same self.
Thus any part of our bodies vitally united to that which is
conscious in us, makes apart of ourselves : but upon separation
from the vital union, by which that consciousness is commu-
nicated, that which a moment since was part of ourselves, is
now no more so, than a part of another man's self is part of me ;
and it is not impossible, but in a little time may become a real
part of another person. And so we have the same numerical
substance become a part of two different persons ; and the same
person preserved under the change of various substances.
Could we suppose any spirit wholly stripped of all its memory
or consciousness of past actions, as we find our minds always
are of a great part of ours, and sometimes of them all, the
union or separation of such a spiritual substance would make
no variation of personal identity, any more than that of any
particle of matter does. Any substance vitally united to the
present thinking being, is a part of that very same self, which
now is : any thing united to it by a consciousness of former
actions, makes also a part of the same self, which is the same
both then and now.

§. 26. Person, a forensic term. — Person, as I take it, is the
name for this self. Wherever a man finds what he calls himself,
there, I think, another may say is the same person. It is a

CA. 27. OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 205)

forensifC term appropriating actions and their merit ; and so
belongs only to intelligent agents capable of a law, and
happiness and misery. Tiiis personality extends itself beyond
present existence to what is past, only by consciousness,
whereby it becomes concerned and accountable, owns and
imputes to itself past actions, just upon the same ground, and
for the same reason, that it does the present. All which is
founded in a concern for happiness, the unavoidable concomitant
of consciousness, that which is conscious of pleasure and pain,
desiring that that self that is conscious, should be happy. And
therefore whatever past actions it cannot reconcile or appro-
priate to that present self by consciousness, it can be no more
concerned in, than if they had never been done : and to receive
pleasure or pain, i. e, reward or punishment, on the account of
any such action, is all one as to be made happy or miserable
in its first being, without any demerit at all. For supposing a
man punished now for what he had done in another life, whereof
he could be made to have no consciousness at all, what difference
is there between that punishment, and being created miserable ?
And therefore conformable to this, the apostle tells us, that at
the great day, when every one shall " receive according to his
doings, the secrets of all hearts shall be laid open." The
sentence shall be justified by the consciousness all persons shall
have, that they themselves, in what bodies soever they appear,
or what substances soever that consciousness adheres to, are the
same that committed those actions, and deserve that punishment
for them.

§. 27. I am apt enough to think I have, in treating of this
subject, made some suppositions that will look strange to some
readers, and possibly they are so in themselves : but yet, I think,
they are such as are pardonable in this ignorance we are in of
the nature of that thinking thing that is in us, and which we
look on as ourselves. Did we know what it was, or how it was
tied to a certain system of fleeting animal spirits ; or whether it
could or could not perform its operations of thinking and
memory out of a body organized as ours is ; and whether it has
pleased God that no one such spirit shall ever be united to any
but one such body, upon the right constitution of whose organs
its memory should depend, we might see the absurdity of some
of those suppositions I have made. But taking, as we ordinarily
now do (in the dark concerning these matters), the soul of a
man, for an immaterial substance, independent from matter, and
indifferent alike to it all, there can, from the nature of things, be
no absurdity at all to suppose that the same soul may, at
different times, be united to different bodies, and with tliena

1270 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. Book2.

make up, for that time, one man : as well as we suppose a part
of a sheep's body yesterday, should be a part of a man's body
to-morrow, and in that union make a vital part of Meliboeus
himself, as well as it did of his ram.

§. 28. The difficult]! from ill iise of names. — To conclude :
whatever substance beoins to exist, it must, durinpf its existence,
necessarily be the same : whatever compositions of substances
begin to exist, during the union of those substances, the
concrete must be the same : whatsoever mode begins to exist,
during its existence, it is the same: and so if the composition
be of* distinct substances, and different modes, the same rule
holds. Whereby it will appear, that the difficulty or obscurity
that has been about this matter, rather rises from the names ill
used, than from any obscurity in things themselves. For what-
ever makes the specific idea, to which the name is applied, if
that idea be steadily kept to, the distinction of any thing into
the same, and divers, will easily be conceived, and there can
arise no doubt about it.

§. 29. Continued existence makes identity. — For supposing a
rational spirit be the idea of a man, it is easy to know what is
the same man, viz., the same spirit, whether separate or in a
body, will be the same man. Supposing a rational spirit vitally
united to a body of a certain conformation of parts to make a
man, v/hilst that rational spirit, with that vital conformation of
parts, though continued in a fleeting successive body, remains,
it will be the same. But if to any one the idea of a man
be but the vital union of parts in a certain shape ; as long as
that vital union and shape remain in a concrete no otherwise
the same, but by a continued succession of fleeting particles, it
will be the same man. For whatever be the composition
whereof the complex idea is made, whenever existence makes it
one particular thing under any denomination, the same existence
continued, preserves it the same individual under the same
•denominatior. *.

* The doctrine of identity and diversity contained in this chapter, the Bishop of
Worcester pretends to be inconsistent with the doctrines of tlie Christian faith, concerning
the resurrection of the dead. His way of arguing from if, is this ; he says, " The reason of
believing tlie resurrection of the same body, upon Mr. Locke's grounds, is from the idea
of identity." To which, our author (a) answers : " Give me leave, my lord, to say, that
tlie reason of believing any article of the Christian faith (such as your lordship is here
speaking of) to me, and upon my grounds, is its being a part of divine revelation: upon
this ground I believed it, before I either writ that chapter of identity and diversity, and
before I ever thought of those propositions wliicli your lordship quotes out of that chapter ;
and, upon the same ground, I believe it still; and not from my idea of identity. This
saying of your lordship's, therefore, being a proposition neither self-evident, nor allowed

(a) In his third letter to the Bishop of Worcester.

C'A.27. OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 271

by me to be true, remains to be proved. So that your foundation failing, all your large
superstructure built tliereon, conies to nothing.

" But, my lord, before we go any fartlier, I crave leave iuimhly to represent to your
lordship, that I thought you undertook to make out, that my notion of ideas was incon-
sistent with the articles of the Christian faith. But that which your lordship instances in
here, is not, tliat I yet know, an article of the Christian faith. The resurrection of the
dead, I acknowledge to be an article of the Christian faith : but that the resurrection of
the same body, in your lordship's sense of the same body, is an article of the Christian
faith, is what, I confess, I do not yet know.

" In the New Testament (wherein, 1 think, are contained all the articles of the
Christian faith^ I find our Saviour, and tlie apostles, to preach the resurrection of the
dead, and the resurrection from the dead, in many places ; but I do not remember any
place, where the resurrection of the same body is so much as mentioned. Nay, which is
very remarkable in the case, I do not remember in any place of the New Testament (where
the general resurrection at the last day is spoken of), any such expression as the resurrec-
tion of the body, much less of the same body.

" I say the general resurrection at the last day ; because, where the resurrection of
some particular persons, presently upon our Saviour's resurrection, is mentioned, the
words are (a), ' The graves were opened, and many bodies of saints, which slept, arose,
and came out of the graves, after his resurrection, and went into the Holy City, and
appeared to many :' of which peculiar way of speaking of this resurrection, the passage
itself gives a reason in tliese words, appeared to many, i. e. those who slept appeared, so
as to be known to be risen. But this could not be known, unless they brought with them
the evidence, that they were those who had been dead ; whereof there were these two
proofs, their graves were opened, and their bodies not only gone out of them, but appeared
to be the same to those who had known them formerly alive, and knew tliem to be dead
and buried. For if diey had been those who had been dead so long, that all who knew
them once alive, were now gone, those to whom they appeared might have known them
to be men ; but could not have known they were riseu from the dead, because they never
knew they had been dead. All that by their appearing they could have known, was,
they were so many living strangers, of whose resurrection they knew nothing. It was
necessary, therefore, that they should come in such bodies, as might in make and size, &:c.
appear to be the same they had before, that they might be known to those of their ac-
quaintance, whom they appeared to. And it is probable they were such as were newly
dead, whose bodies were not yet dissolved and dissipated ; and, therefore, it is particularly
said here (differently from what is said of the general resurrection) that their bodies arose ;
because they were the same that were then lying in their graves, the moment before
they rose.

" But your lordship endeavours to prove it must be the same body; and let us grant
that your lordship, nay, and others too, think you have proved it must be the same body ;
will you, therefore, say, that he holds wliat is inconsistent with an article of faith, who
having never seen this, your lordship's interpretation of the scrijjlure, nor your reasons
for the same body, in your sense of same body ; or, if he has seen them, yet not understand-
ing them, or not perceiving the force of tiiem, believes what the scripture proposes to him,
viz. ' That at tlie last day, the dead shall be raised,' without determining whether it shall
be with the very same bodies or no ?

" I know your lordship pretends not to erect your particular inteqiretations of scripture
into articles of faith. And if you do not, he that believes the dead shall be raised,
believes that article of faitli which tlie scripture proposes ; aiul cainiot be accused of
holding any thing inconsistent with it, if it should happen, that what he holds is incon-
sistent with another proposition, viz. ' That tlie dead shall be raised with Uie same bodies,'
in your lordship's sense, w^hicli I do not find proposed in Holy Writ as an article of faith.

" But your lordship argues, It must be the same body; which, as you explain same
body (fc), is not the same individual particles of matter which were united at the point
of death ; nor the same particles of matter that the sinner had at the time of the
commission of his sins : but that it must be the same material substance which was vitally
united to the soul here ; i. e. as I understand it, the same individual particles of matter
which were some time or other during his life here vitally united to his soul.

" Your first argument to prove that it must be the same body, in this sense of the same
body, is taken from these words of our Saviour (c), ' All that are in the graves, shall hear
bis voice, and shall come fortli :' (d) from whence your lordship argues, that these words,

(a) Matt, xxvii. 52, 53. (h) Second answer, (c) John, v. 28, 29. (d) Second answer.

272 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. Book2.

' All that are in their graves,' relate (o no otlicr substance than what was united to the
soul in life ; because, ' a dillerent substance cannot be said to be in the graves, and to
come out of thenu' W'h.ich words of your lordsliip's, if they prove any thing, prove, that
the so\il, too, is lodged in tlie grave, and raised out of it at the last day. For your lord-
ship says, 'Can a dirtcrent substanct; bu saiil to be in the graves, and come out of them r'
so tiiat, according to this interprttatioii of these words of our Saviour, ' no other substance
being raised, but what hears Ins voice ; and no other substance hearing his voice, butwliat
being called, comes out of the grave ; and no other substance coming out of the grave, but
what was in the grave ;' any one must conclude, that the soul, unless it be in the grave, will
make rro part of the person that is raised, unless, as your lordship argues against nie, (a )
you can make it out, that a substairce wliich never was in the grave, may come out of it,
or that the soul is no substance.

" But setting aside the substance of the soul, anotlier thing that will make any one
doubt, whetiier this, your interpretation of our Saviour's words, be necessarily to be received
as their true sense, is, tliat it will not be very easily reconciled to your saying, (/*) you do
not mean by tlie same body, the same individual particles which were united at the point
of death. And yet by this interpretation of our Saviour's words, you can mean no other
j)articles, but such as were united at the point of death ; because you mean no other sub-
stance but what comes out of the grave ; and no substance, no particles come out, you
say, but what were in the grave ; and I think your lordship will not say, that the particles
that were separate from the body by perspiration before the point of death, were laid up
ill the grave.

" But your lordship, I find, has an answer to this, viz. (c) That by comparing this with
other places, you find that the words (of our Saviour above quoted) are to be understood
of the substance of the body, to which the soul was uidted, and not to (1 suppose your
lordship writ, of) these individual particles, i. e. those individual particles that are in the
grave at the resurrection. For so they must be read, to make your lordship's sense entire,
and to the purpose of your answer here ; and then, methinks, this last sense of our
-Saviour's words given by your lordship, wliolly overturns tlie sense which we have given
of them above, where, from those words, you press the belief of the resurrection of the
same body, by this strong argument, that a substance could not, upon hearing the voice
of Christ, come out of the grave, which was never in the grave. There (as far as I can
understand your words) your lordship argues, that our Saviour's words are to be understood
of the particles in the grave, unless, as your lordship says, one can make out, that a sub-
stance which never was in the grave, may come out of it. And here your lordship ex-
pressly says, 'That our Saviour's words are to be understood of the substance of that body,
to which the soul was (at any time) united, and not to those individual particles that are
in the grave.' Which put together, seems to me to say. That our Saviour's words are to
be understood of those particles only that are in the grave, and not of those particles only
which are in the grave, but of others also, which have at any time been vitally united to
the soul, but never were in the grave.

" The next text your lordship brings to make the resurrection of the same body in your
sense, an article of faith, are these words of St. Paul ; (</) ' For we must all ai)pear before
the judgment seat of Christ, that every one may receive the things done in liis body, ac-
cording to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad.' To which your lordship sub-
joins (e) this question : ' Can these words be understood of any other material substance,
but that body in which these things were done ?' Answer : A man may suspend his de-
termining the meaning of the apostle to be, that a sinner shall sutler for his sins, in the
very same body wherein he committed them ; because St. Paul does not say he shall have
the very same body when he sullers, that he had when he sinned. The apostle says, indeed,
done in his body. The body he had, and did things in, at five or fifteen, was, no doubt,
his body, as much as that which he did things in at fifty, was his body, though his body
were not the very same body at those ditferent ages ; and so will the body, which he
shall have after the resurrection, be his body, though it be not the very same with tliat
which he had at five, or fifteen, or fifty. He that at threescore is broke on the wheel,
for a murder he committed at twenty, is punished for what he did in his body, though
the body he has, i. e. his body at threescore, be not the same, i. e. made up of the same
individual particles of matter, that that body was which he had forty years before.
When your lordsliip has resolved with yourself, what tliat same immutable he is, which at
the last judgment shall receive the things done in his body, your lordship will easily see,
that the body he had when an embryo in the womb, when a child playing in coats, when
{a) Second answer, {h) Ibid, (c) Ibid, (d) 2 Cor. v. 10. {e) Second answer.

C/t. 27. OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 278

a man marrying a wife, and wlien bed-rid dying of a consumption, and at last, wkicli he
shall liave after his resurrection, are each of them his body, though neither of them be the
same body, the one with the other.

" But farther, to your lordsJiip's question, ' Can these words be understood of any other
material substance, but that boily in which these tilings were done?' 1 answer, These
words of St. Paul, may be understood of another material substance than that body in
which these tilings were done, because your lurdsliip teaches nie, and gives me a strong
reason so to understand them. Your lordship says, («) ' Tiiat you do not say the same
particles of matter, which the sinner had at the very time of the commission of his sins,
shall be raised at the last day.' And your lordsiiip gives this reason for it ; (/)) ' For then a
long sinner must have a vast body, considering the continued spending of particles by
perspiration.' Now, my lord, if the apostle's words, as your lordship would argue, cannot
be understood of any other material substance, but that body in which these things were
done ; and no body, upon tiie removal or change of some of the particles, that at any tmie
make it up, is the same material substance, or the same body ; it will, I think, thence
follow, that either the sinnor mast have all the same individual particles vitally united to
his soul when he is raised, that he had vitally united to his soul when he sinned ; or else
St. Paul's words here, cannot be understood to mean the same body in which the things
were done. For if there were other particles of matter in the body, wherein the things
were done, than in that which is raised, that which is raised cannot be tlie same body in
which they were done : unless that alone, which has just all the same individual particles
wJien any action is done, being the same body wherein it was done, that also, whicli has
not the same individual particles wherein that action was done, can be the same body
wherein it was done ; which is, in elt'ect, to make the same body sometimes to be the same,
and sometimes not the same.

" Your lordship thinks it suffices to make the same body to have not all, but no other
particles of matter, but such as were sometime or other, vitally united to the soul before :
but such a body, made up of part of the particles some time or other vitally united to the
soul, is no more the same body, wherein the actions were done, in the distant parts of the long
sinner's life, tlian that is the same bodyin which a quarter, or half, or three quarters of the same
particles, that made it up, are wanting. For example, A sinner has acted here in his body
an hundred years ; he is raised at the last day, but with what body ? The same, says your
lordship, that he acted in ; because St. Paul says, he must receive the tilings done in his
body. What, therefore, must his body at the resurrection consist of? Must it consist of
all the particles of matter that have ever been vitally united to his soul ? For they, in suc-
cession, have all of them made up his body, wjierein he did these things : ' No,' says your
lordship, (c) ' that would make his body too vast ; it suffices to make the same body in
which the things were done, that it consists of some of the particles, and no other, but
such as were, some time during his life, vitally united to his soul.' But according to this
account, his body at the resurrection being, as your lordship seems to limit it, near the
same size it was in some part of his life, it will be no more the same body in which the
things were done in the distant parts of his life, than that is the same body, in which half
or three quarters, or more, of the individual matter that then made it up, is now wanting.
For example, let his body at fifty years old consist of a million of parts ; five hundred
thousand at least of those parts will be different from those which made up his body at
ten years, and at an hundred. So that to take the numerical particles that made up his body
at fifty, or any other season of his life, or to gather them promiscuously out of those which at
different times have successively been vitally united to his soul, they will no more make
the same body, which was his, wherein some of his actions were done, than that is the
same body, which has but half the same particles : and yet all your lordship's argument
here for the same body, is, because St. Paul says, it must be his body in which these things
were done ; which it could not be, if any other substance were joined to it, i. e. if any
other particles of matter made up the body, which were not vitally united to the soul when
the action was done.

" Again, your lordship says, (d) ' That you do not say the same individual particles
[shall make up the body at the resurrection] which were united at the point of death, for
there nmst be a great alteration in them in a lingering disease, as if a fat man falls into a
consumption.' Because, it is likely, your lordship thinks these particles of a decrepit,
wasted, withered body, would be too few, or unfit, to make such a plump, strong, vigorous,
well-sized body, as it has pleased your lordship to proportion out in your thoughts to
men at the resurrection ; ami, therefore, some small portion of the particles formerly united
(a) Second answer. (b) Ibid. (c) Ibid. (d) Ibid.

T

274 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. Bookl.

vitally to ihat man's soul, shall be reassumed to make up liis body to the bulk 3'our lord-
ship judges convenient ; l^ut the greatest part of them shall be left out, to avoid the making
his body more vast tlian your lordship tliinks will be fit, as appears by these, your lord-
ship's words immediately following, viz., (a) ' That you do not say the same particles
the sinner had at the very time of commission of his sins ; for then a long sinner must
have a vast body.'

" But then, pray, my lord, what must an embryo do, who dying within a few hours
after his body was vitally uuited to his soul, has uo particles of matter, which were
formerly vitally united to it, to make up his body of that size, and proportion, which your
lordship seems to require in bodies at the resurrection ? Or, must we believe he shall
remain content with that small pittance of matter, and that yet imperfect body, to eternity,
because it is an article of faith to believe the resurrection of the very same body, i. e.
made up of only such particles as have been vitally united to the soul ? For if it be so, as your
lordship says, (6) ' That life is. the result of the union of soul and body,' it will follow,
that the body of an embryo, dying in the womb, may be very little, not the thousandth
part of any ordinary man. For since from the first conception and beginning of formation,
it has life, and ' life is the result of the union of the soul with the body ;' an embryo, that
shall die either by the untimely death of the mother, or by any other accident, presently
after it has life, must, according to your lordship's doctrine, remain a man, not an inch long,
to eternity ; because there are not particles of matter, formerly united to his soul, to make
him bigger, and no other can be made use of to that purpose : though what greater con-
gruity the sou! hath with any particles of matter which were once vitally united to it, but
are now so no longer, than it hath with particles of matter which it was never united to,
would be hard to determine, if that should be demanded.

" By these, and not a few other the like, consequences, one may see what service they
do to religion, and the Christian doctrine, who raise questions, and ma4ie articles of faith,
about the resurrection of the same body, where the scripture says iiothing of the same body;
or if it does, it is with no small reprimand (c) to those who make such an enquiry.
' But some man will say. How are the dead raised up ? and with what body do they come ?
Thou fool, that which thou sowest, is not quickened, except it die. And that which thou
sowest, thou sowest not that body that shall be, but bare grain, it may chance of wheat,
or some other grain. But God giveth it a body, as it hath pleased him.' Words, I should
think, sufficient to deter us from determining any thing for or against the same body's
being raised at the last day. It suffices, that all the dead shall be raised, and every one
appear and answer for the things done in his life, and receive according to the things he
has done in his body, whether good or liad. He that believes this, and has said nothing
inconsistent herewith, I presume may, and must, be acquitted from being guilty of any
thing inconsistent with the article of the resurrection of the dead.

" But your lordship, to prove the resurrection of the same body to be an article of faith,
farther asks, (i) ' How could it be said, if any other substance be joined to the soul at
the resurrection, as its body, that they were the things done in or by the body?' Answer.
Just as it may be said of a man at an hundred years old, that hath then another substance
joined to his soul, than he had at twenty ; that the murder or drunkenness he was guilty
of at twenty, were things done in the body : how ' by the body,' comes in here^I do not see.

" Your lordship adds : ' and St. Paul's dispute about the manner of raising the body,
might soon have ended, if there were no necessity of the same body.' Answer. When
1 understand what argument there is in these words to prove the resurrection of the same
body, without the mixture of one new atom of matter, I shall know what to say to it. In
the mean time, this I understand, that St. Paul would have put as short an end to all
disputes about this matter, if he had said, that there was a necessity of the same body, or
that it should be the same body.

" The next text of scripture you bring for the same body, is, (e) ' If there be no resur-
rection of the dead, then is not Christ raised.' From which your lordship argues, (f) ' It
seems, then, other bodies are to be raised as his was.' I grant other dead, as certainly
raised as Christ was : for else his resurrection would be of no use to mankind. But I do
not see how it follows, that they shall be raised with the same body, as Christ was raised
with the same body, as your lordship infers, in these words annexed : ' And can there be
any doubt, whether his body was the same material substance which was united to his soul
before ?' I answer. None at all ; nor that it had just the same distinguishing lineaments
and marks, yea, and the same wounds, that it had at the time of his death. If, therefore,
(a) Second answer. (ft) Ibid. (c) 1 Cor. xv. S5, &c.

(d) Second answer. (c) 1 Cor. xv. 16. (f) Second answer.

CA. 27. OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 275

your lordship will argue from other bodies being raised as liis was, That they must keep
proportion with his in sameness ; then we must believe, tliat every man sIihII be raised with
the same lineaments and other notes of distinction he had at tlie time of liis death, even
with his wounds yet open, if he had any, because our Saviour was so raised ; which
seems to me scarce reconcileable with what your lordship says, (a) of a fat mau falling
into a consumption, and dying.

" But whether it will consist or no with your lordship's meaning in that place, this to
me seems a consequence that will need to be better proved, viz. That our bodies must be
raised the same, just as our Saviour's was : because St. Paul says, ' if tliere be no resur-
rection of the dead, then is not Christ risen.' For it may be a good consequence, Christ
is risen, and, therefore, there shall be a resurrection of the dead ; and yet this may not
be a good consequence, Christ was raised with the same body he had at his dealli, there-
fore all men shall be raised with the same body they had at their deatli, contrary to what
your lordship says concerning a fat man dying of a consumption. But the case 1 think
far dill'erent betwixt our Saviour, and those to be raised at the last day.

" 1, His body saw not corruption, and, therefore, to give him another body, new moulded,
mixed with other particles, which were not contained in it, as it lay in the grave, whole
and entire as it was laid there, had been to destroy his body to frame him a new one,
without any need. But why, with the remaining particles of a man's body, long since
dissolved and mouldered into dust and atoms (whereof, possibly, a great part may have
undergone variety of changes, and entered into other concretions ; even in the bodies of
other men), other new particles of matter mixed with them, may not serve to make his
body again, as well as the mixture of new and different ]/articles of matter with the old,
did in the compass of his life make his body, I think no reason can be given.

*' Tiiis may serve to show, why, though the materials of our Saviour's body were not
changed at his resurrection ; yet it does not follow, but that the body of a man dead and
rotten in his grave, or burnt, may at the last day have several new j)articles in it, and
that without any inconvenience : since whatever matter is vitally united to his soul, is
his body, as much as is that which was united to it when he was born, or in any other
part of his life.

" 2, In the next place, the size, sliape, figure, and lineaments of our Saviour's body, even
to liis wounds, into which doubting Thomas put his fingers and his hand, were to be kept
in the raised body of our Saviour, the same they were at liis death, to be a conviction to
his disciples, to whom he showed himself, and wlio were to be witnesses of his resurrection,
that their master, the very same man, was crucified, dead, and buried, and raised acrain ;
and, therefore, he was handled by tliem, and eat before them, after he was risen, to give
them in all points full satisfaction tliat it was really he, the same, and not another, nor a
spectre or apparition of him; thougli I do not think your lordship will thence argue, that
because others are to be raised as he was, therefore, it is necessary to believe, that because
he eat after his resurrection, others, at l!ie last day, shall eat and drink after tliey are
raised from the dead ; which seems to nie as good nn argument, as because liis undissolved
body was raised out of the grave, just as it there lay tntire, without the mixture of any
new particles ; therefore the corrupted and consumed bodies of the dead, at the resur-
rection, shall be new framed only out of those scattered particles which were once vitally
united to their souls, witliout the least mixture of any one single atom of new matter.
But at the last day, when all men are raised, there will be no need to be assured of any
one particular man's resurrection. It is enough that every one shall appear before the
judgment-seatof Christ, to receive according to what he had done in his former life ; but in
what sort of body he shall appear, or of what particles made up, the scrijiture having said
nothing, but that it shall oe a sj)iritual body raised in incorruption, it is not for me to
determine.

" Your lordship asks, (6) ' Were they [who saw our Saviour after his resurrection]
witnesses only of some material substance then united to his soul?' In auswer, I beg yoiu'
lordship to consider, whether you suppose our Saviour was to be known to be the same
man (to the witnesses that were to see him, and testify Ins resurrection) by his soul, tliat
could neither he seen or known to be tiie same : or by his body, that could be seen,
and by the disccrnable structure and marks of it, be known to be the sameP When your
lordship has resolved that, all that you say in that page will answer itself. But because
one man cannot know another to be the same, but by the outward visible lineaments, and
sensible marks, he has been wont to be known and distinguished by, will you: lordship,
tlierefore, argue, tliat tlie Great Judge, at the last day, who gives to each man, whom he
(u) Second auswer. (b) Ibid.

t2

27G OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. Book'l.

raises, his new body, sliall not be able to know who is who, unless he give to every one
of them a body, just of the same figure, size, and features, and made up of the very same
individual particles he had in his former life? Whether such a way of arguing for the
resurrection of the same body, to be an article of faith, contributes much to the
strengthening of the credibility of the article of resurrection of the dead, I shall leave to
the judgment of others.

" Farther, for the proving the resurrection of the same body, to be an article of faith,
your lordship says, (a) ' But the apostle insists upon the resurrection of Christ, not merely
as an argument of the possibility of ours, but of the certainty of it ; (hi) because he rose,
as tlie first-fruits : Christ the first-fruits, afterward they tiiat are Christ's at his coming.'
Answer. No doubt, the resnrrectiou of Christ is a proof of the certainty of our resurrection.
But is it, tlierefore, a proof of the resurrection of the same body, consisting of the same
individual particles which concurred to the making up of the body here, without tiie mix-
ture of any one other particle of matter ? 1 confess I see no such consequence.

" But your lordship goes on : (c) ' St. Paul was aware of the objections in men's
minds about the resurrection of tlie same body ; and it is of great consequence as to this
article, to show upon what grounds he proceeds: ' But some men will say, how are the
dead raised up, and with what body do they come?' First, lie shows, that the seminal
parts of plants are wonderfully improved by the ordinary Providence of God, in the
manner of their vegetation.' Answer. I do not ])erfectly understand, what it is ' for
the seminal parts of plants to be wonderfully improved by the ordinary Providence of God,
in the manner of their vegetation :' or else, perhaps, I sliould better see how this here
tends to the proof of the resurrection of the same body, in your lordship's sense.

" It continues, (ti) ' They sow bare grain of wiieat, or of some other grain, but God
giveth it a body, as it hath pleased him, and to every seed his own body. Here,' says
your lordship, ' is an identity of the material substance supposed.' It may be so. But to
nie, a diversity of the material substance, i. e. of the component particles, is here supposed,
or in direct words said. For the words of St. Paul taken altogether, run thus : (e) ' That
which tliou sowest, thou sowest not that body that shall be, but bare grain :' and so on, as
your lordship has set down in the remainder of them. From which words of St. Paul,
the natural argument seems to me to stand thus : If the body that is put in the earth in
sowing, is not that body which shall be, then the body that is put in the grave, is not tliat,
i. e. the same body, that shall be. ,

" But vnur lorrlship proves it to be the same body, by these three Greek words of the
text, TO i%iou auf^a, which your lordship interprets thus, (f) ' That proper body which
belongs to u.' Answer. Indeed by those Greek words, ro i'hiov tju/ncc, whether our trans-
lators have rightly rendered them ' his own body,' or your lordslup more riglitly, ' that
proper body which belongs to it,' I formerly understood no more but this, that in the pro-
duction of wheat, and other grain from seed, God continued every species distinct ; so
iliat from grains of wheat sown, root, stalk, blade, ear, grains of wheat, were produced,
and not tliose of barley ; and so of the rest, which I took to be the meaning of, to every
seed his own body.' ' No,' says your lordship, ' these words prove, that to every plant of
wheat, and to every grain of wheat produced in it, is given the proper body that belongs
to it, which is the same body with the grain that was sown.' Answer. This, I confess,
I do not understand ; because I do not iinderstand how one individual grain, can be
the same with twenty, fifty, or an hundred individual grains ; for such sometimes is
the increase.

" But your lordship proves it. ' For,' says your lordship, (g) ' every seed having that
body in little, which is afterwards so much enlarged; and in grain, the seed is cor-
rupted before the germination ; but it hath its proper organical parts, which make it the
same body with that which it grows up to. For although grain be not divided into lobes,
as other seeds are, yet it hath been found, by the most accurate observations, that upon
separating the membranes, these seminal parts are discerned in them ; which afterwards
prow up to that body which we call corn. In which words I crave leave to observe,
that your lordship supposes that a body may be enlarged by the addition of an hundred
or a thousand times as much in bulk as its own matter, and yet continue the same body ;
which, I confess, I cannot understand.

" But in the next place, if that could be so ; and that the plant, in its full growth at
harvest, increased by a thousand or a million of times as much new matter added to it, as
it had wjien it lay a little concealed in the grain that was sown, was the very same body ;
(o) Second answer. (h) 1 Cor. xv. 20, 23. (f) Second answer. (d) Ibid,

(e) V. 37. (f) Second answer. ("■) Ibid.

CA. 27. OF IDEiSTITY AND DIVERSITV. 277

yet I do not think that your lonlsliij) will say, that every minute, insensible, and incon-
ceivably small grain of the hundred grains, contained in that little organized seminal
plant, is every one of them the very same with tiiat grain wiiicli contains that whole
seminal plant, and all those invisible grains in it. For then it will follow, that one grain
is the same with an hundred, and an hundred distinct grains the same with one : which
I shall be able to assent to, when I can conceive, tliat all the wheat in t!ie world is but
one grain.

" For I beseech you, my lord, consider wliat it is St. Paul here si)eaks of: it is plain
he speaks of that which is sown and dies, i. e. the grain that the iiusbandnian takes out of
his barn to sow in his field. And of this grain St. Paul says, ' that it is not that body
that shall be.' These two, viz. ' that which is sown, and that body tliat shall be,' are all
the bodies that St. Paul here speaks of, to represent the agreement or difference of men's
bodies after the resurrection, with tliose they had before they died. Now, I crave leave
to ask yonr lordship, which of these two is that little invisible seminal plant which your
lordship here speaks of? Does your lordship mean by it the grain that is sown ? But that
is not what St. Paul speaks of; he could not mean this embryonated little plant, for he
could not denote it bv these words, ' that which thou sowest,' for that he says must die :
but this little embryonated plant, contained in the seed that is sown, dies not : or does
your lordship mean by it, ' the body that slial! be?' But neither by these words, 'the
body that shall be,' can St. Paul be supposed to denote this insensible little embryonated
plant ; for that is already in being, contained in the seed that is sown, and, therefore,
could not be spoken of under the name of ' the body that shall be.' And, therefore, 1
confess, I cannot see of what use it is to your lordship, to introduce here this third body
which St. Paul mentions not, and to make that the same, or not the same, with any other,
when those which St. Paul speaks of, are, as I humbly conceive, these two visible sensible
bodies, the grain sown, and the corn grown up to ear ; with neither of which, this in-
sensible embryonated plant can be the same body, unless an insensible body can be the
same body with a sensible body, and a little body can be the same body with one ten
thousand, or a hundred thousand, times as big as itself. So that yet, I confess, I see not
the resurrection of the samebodyproved,from these words of St. Paul, to be an article of faith.

" Your lordship goes on : (a) ' St. Paul indeed saith, That we sow not that body tliat
shall be ; but he speaks not of the identity, but the perfection of it.' Here my under-
standing fails me again : for I cannot understand St. Paul to say. That the same identical
sensible grain of wl-.eat, which was sown at seed-time, is tlie very same with every grain
of wheat in the ear at harvest, that sprang from it : j-et so I must understand it, to make
it prove, that the same sensible body that is laid in the grave, shall be the very same with
that which shall be raised at the resurrection. For I do not know of any seminal body in
little, contained in the dead carcase of any man or woman, which, as your lordship says,
in seeds, having its proper organical parts, shall afterwards be enlarged, and at the resur-
rection grow up into the same man. For I never thought of any seed or seminal parts,
either of plant or animal, ' so wonderfully improved by the Providence of God,' whereby
the same plant or animal should beget itself; nor ever heard, that it was by Divine Pro-
vidence designed to produce the same individual, but for the producing of future and dis-
tinct individuals, for the continuation of the same species.

" Your lordship's next words are, (6) ' And although there be such a difference from
the g^ain itself, when it comes up to be i)erfect corn, with root, stalk, blade, and ear, that
it may be said to outward appearance not to be the same body ; yet with regard to the
seminal and organical parts, it is as much the same, as a man grown up is the same with
the embryo in the womb.' Answer. It does not appear, by any thing I can find in the
text, that St. Paul here compared the body produced, with the seminal and organical
parts contained in the grain it sprang from, but with the whole sensible grain that was
grown. Microscopes had not then discovered the little embryo plant in the seed : and
supposing it should have been revealed to St. Paul (though in the scripture we find little
revelation of natural philosophy), yet an argument taken from a thing perfectly unknown
to the Corinthians, whom he writ to, could be of no manner of use to them ; nor serve at
all either to instruct or convince them. But granting that those St. Paul writ to, knew it
as well as Mr. Lewenhoek ; yet your lordship, thereby, proves not the raising of the same
body : your lordship says, ' It is as much the same' (I crave leave to add body) ' as a man
grown up is the same' (same what, I beseech your lordship?) ' with the embryo in the
womb.' For that the body of the embryo in the womb, and body of the man grown up, is the
same body, I think uo one will say ; unless he can persuade himself that a body that is

(a) Second answer. (h) Ibid.

t3

278 OF IDENTITY AiND DIVERSITY. Book 2,

not the hundredlli part of another, is the same with that other ; which I think no one will
do, till Imving renounced tiiis dangerous way by ideas of thinking and reasoning, he has
learnt to say, that a part and the whole are the same.

" Your iordsliip goes on ; («) ' And although many arguments may be used to prove,
tliat a man is not the same, because life, which depends upon the course of the blood, and
the maimer ol respiration, and nutrition, is so diiterent in both states ; yet that man would
be tliougiit ridiculous, that should seriously aihrm, that it was not the same man.' And
your lordship says, ' I grant, that the variation of great parcels of matter in plants, alters
not the identity : and that the organization of the parts in one coherent body, partaking
of one common life, makes the identity of a plant.' Answer. JMy lord, 1 think the
question is not about the same man, bat the same body. For though 1 do say, {b} (some-
what dill'ereutly from what your lordship sets down as my words iiere) ' That that which
has such an organizntion, as is lit to receive and distribute nourishment, so as to continue
and frame the wood, bark, and leaves, &c. of a plant, in which consists the vegetable life,
continues to be tlie same plant, as long as it partakes of the same life, though that life be
communicated to new particles of matter, vitally united to the living plant :' yet 1 do
not remember, that I any where say, That a plant, which was once no bigger than an
oaten straw, and, afterwards, grows to be above a fathom about, is the same body, though
it be still the same plant.

" The well-known treeinEppingForest, called the King's Oak, which, from not weighing
an ounce at first, grew to have many tons of timber in it, was all along the same oak, the
very same plant ; but nobody, I think, will say that it was the same body, when it weighed
a tun, as it was w!ien it weighed but an ounce ; unless he has a mind to signalize himself,
by saying, That tliat is the same body, whicli has a thousand different particles of matter
in it, for one particle that is the same ; which is no better than to say, That a thousand
ditierent particles are but one and the same particle, and one and tlie same particle is a
thousand dili'erent particles ; a thousand times a greater absurdity, than to say half is the
whole, or the whole is the same Vw'ith the half ; which will be imj)roved ten thousand times
yet fartlier, if a man shall say (as your lordship seems to me to argue here), that that great
oak is the very same body witli the acorn it sprang from, because there was in that acorn
an oal; in little, which was afterwards (as your lordship expresses it) so much enlarged, as
to make that mighty tree. For this embryo, if 1 may so call it, or oak in little, being not
tlie hundredtli, or, perhaps, the thousandth, part of the acorn, and the acorn being not the
thousandth part of tlie grown oak, it will be very extraordinary to prove the acorn and
the grown oak to be the same body, by a way wherein it cannot be pretended, that above
one particle of an hundred thousand, or a million, is the same in the one body, that it was
in the other. From which way of reasoning, it will follow, that a nurse and her sucking
child have the same body ; and be past doubt, that a mother and her infant have the same
body. But this is a way of certainty, found out to establish the articles of faith, and to
overturn the new metliod of certainty, that your lordship says 1 have started, which is apt
to leave men's minds more doubtful than before.

" And now I desire your lordship to consider of what use it is to you, in the present
case, to quote out of my Essay, these words : ' Tliat partaking of one common life, makes
the identity of a plant ;' since tlie question is not about the identity of a plant, but about
the identity of a body. It being a very ditferent thing, to be the same plant, and to be the
same body. For that which makes the same plant, does not make the same body ; the
one being tlie partaking in the same continued vegetable life ; the other, the consisting of
the same numerical particles of matter. And, therefore, your lordship's inference from
my words above quoled, in these whichyou subjoin, (c) seems to me a very strange one, viz.
' So that in things capable of any sort of life ; the identity is consistent with a continued
succession of parts ; and so the wheat grown up, is the same body with the grain that was
sown.' For 1 believe, if my words, from which you infer, ' and so the wheat grown up,
is the same body with the grain that was sown,' were put into a syllogism, this would
hardly be brouglit to be the conclusion.

" But your lordship goes on with consequence upon consequence, though I have not
eyes acute enough, every where to see the connexion, till you bring it to the resurrection
of the same body. The connexion of your lordship's words (</) is as followeth : ' And
thus the alteration of the parts of the body at the resurrection, is consistent with its
identity, if its organization and life be the same ; and this is a real identity of the body,
which depends not upon consciousness. From whence it follows, that to make the same
body, no more is required, but restoring life to the organized parts of it.' If the question

(tt) Second answer. (6) Essay, b. 2, c. 27, §. 4. (c) Second answer. (rf) Ibid.

Ch. 27. OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 279

were about raising tlie same plant, I do not say but there might be some appearance for
making such an inference from my words as tiiis, ' Whence it follows, that to make the same
plant, no more is required, but to restore life to the organized parts of it.' But this deduction,
wherein from those words of mine, that speak only of the identity of a })lant, your lord-
ship infers, there is no more required to make the same body, than to make the same plant,
being too subtle for me, I leave to ray reader to find out.

" Your lordship goes on, and says, (n) ' That 1 grant likewise, that the identity of the
same man, consists in a participation of the same continued life, by constantly fleeting
particles of matter in succession, vitally united to the same organized body.' Answer. I
speak in these words of the identity of the same man, and your lordship thence roundly
concludes ; ' so that tliere is no dilHculty of the sameness of the body.' But your lord-
ship knows, that I do not take these two sounds, man and body, to stand for the same
thing ; nor the identity of the man to be the same with the identity of the body.

" But let us read out your lordship's words, (b) ' So that there is no difficulty as to
the sameness of the body, if life were continued ; and if, by Divine Power, life be restored
to that material substance, wliich was before united by a re-uuion of the soul to it, tliere
is no reason to deny the identity of the body, not from the consciousness of the soul,
but from that life wliich is the result of the union of the soul and body.'

" If I understand your lordship right, you, in these words, from the passages above
quoted out of my book, argue, that from those words of mine it will follow. That it is or
may be the same body, that is raised at the resurrection. If so, my lord, your lordship
has then proved. That my book is not inconsistent with, but conformable to, this article of
the resurrection of the same body, wliich your lordship contends for, and will have to be
an article of faith : for tliough I do by no means deny, that the same bodies shall be
raised at the last day, yet I see nothing your lordship has said to prove it to be an
article of faith.

" But your lordship goes on with your proofs, and says, (c) ' But St. Paul still sup-
poses, that it must be that material substance to which the soul was before united. ' For,'
saith he, ' it is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption : it is sown in dishonour, it
is raised in glory : it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power : it is sown a natural
body, it is raised a spiritual body.' Can such a material substance, which was never
united to the body, be said to be sown in corruption, and weakness, and dishonour ?
either, therefore, he must speak of the same body, or his meaning cannot be comprehended.'
I answer. Can such a material substance, which was never laid iu the grave, be said to
be sown? 6cc. For your lordship says, (d) ' You do not say the same individual particles,
which were united at the point of death, shall be raised at the last day ;' and no other
particles are laid in the grave, but such as are united at the point of death ; either, there-
fore, your lordship must speak of another body, different from that which was sown, which
shall be raised, or else your meaning, I think, cannot be comprehended.

" But whatever be your meaning, your lordship proves it to be St. Paul's meaning,
that the same body shall be raised, whicli was sown, in these following words : (e) ' For
what does all this relate to a conscious principle ?' Answer. The scripture being
express. That the same person should be raised and appear before the judgment seat of
Christ, that every one may receive according to what he had done in his body ; it was
very well suited to common apprehensions (which refined not about ' particles that had
beeri vitally united to the soul '), to speak of the body, which each one was to have after
the resurrection, as he would be apt to speak of it himself. For it being his body both
before and after the resurrection, every one ordinarily speaks of his body as the same,
though, in a strict and philosophical sense, as your lordship speaks, it be not the very
same. Thus it is no impropriety of speech to say. This body of mine, which was formerly
strong and plump, is now weak and wasted, though, in such a sense as you are speaking
here, it be not the same body. Revelation declares nothing any where concerning the
same body, in your lordship's sense of the same body, which appears not to have been
tliought of. The apostle directly proposes nothing for or against the same body, as ne-
cessary to be believed ; that which he is plain and direct in, is opposing and condemning
such curious questions about the body, which could serve only to perplex, not to confirm,
what was material and necessary for them to believe, viz., a day of judgment and retri-
bution to men iu a future state ; and, therefore, it is no wonder that mentioning their
bodies, he should use a way of speaking suited to vulgar notions, from wliich it would be
hard positively to conclude any thing for the determining of this question (especially
against expressions in the same discourse that plainly, incline to the other side) in a

(a) Second answer. (6) Ibid. (c) Ibid. (<f) Ibid. (e) Ibid.

t4

280 OF IOENT[TY AND DIVERSITY. Book-2r

matter wliicli, as it appears, the apostle thought not necessarj to Jeterinine ; and the Spirit
of God thought not lit to gratify any one's curiosity in.

" But your lordshi|) says, (u) ' Tlie apostle speaks plainly of lliat body which was
once quickened, ami afterwards falls to eorru))tion, and is to be restored with more noble
qualities.' I wish your lordsiiip had q',:oted the words of St. Paul, wherein he speaks
plainly of that numerical body that was once quickened, they would presently decide
tiiis question. But your lordship proves it, by tiiese following words of St. Paul : ' For
this corruption must put on incorruption, and tliis mortal must put on immortalitv ;' to
which your lordship adds, that ' you do not see how he could more exjjressly atliriu the
identity of this corruptible body, with tiiat after tlie resurrection.' How expressly it i*
affirmed by the apostle, shall be considered by and by. In the mean time, it is past doubt,
that your lordsiiip best knows what you do, or do not, see. But this 1 would be bold to
say, that if St. Paul had, any where in this chapter (where there are so many occasions for
it, if it had been necessary to have been believed), birt said in express words, that the
same bodies should be raised, every one else, who thinks of it, will see he had more
expressly affirmed the identity of the bodies which men now have, with those they shall
have after the resurrection.

" The remainder of your lordship's period (6) is ; * And that without any respect to^
the principle of self-consciousness.' Answer. These words, I doubt not, have some
meaning, but I must own, I know not what ; either towards the proof of the resurrection
of the same body, or to show, that any thing I have said concerning self-consciousness, is
inconsistent ; for I do not remember that I have any where said, that the identity of body
consisted in self-constiousness.

" From your preceding words, your lordship concludes thus ; (c) * And so if the
scripture be the sole foundation of our faith, this is an article of it.' My lord, to make
the conclusion unquestionable, I humbly cojiceive die words must run thus. And so if
the scripture, and your lordship's interpretation of it, be the sole foundation of our faith,
the rtsurrection of the same body is an article of it. For, with submission, your lordship
has neither produced express words of scripture for it, nor so proved that to be the
meaning- of any of those words of scripture, which you have produced for it, that a man
who reads, and sincerely endeavours to understand, the scripture, cannot but find himself
obliged to believe, as expressly, that the same bodies of the dead, in your lordship's sense,
shall be raised, as that the dead shall be raised. And I crave leave to give your lordsbip
this one reason for it. He who reads with attention this discourse of St. Paul, (d) where
he discourses of the resurrection, will see, that he plainly distinguishes between the dead
that shall be raised, and the bodies of the dead. For it is vbkqoi, 'TroivTig, of, are the
nominative cases to (e) iyii^ovTai, ^uoTroiri^iiaovrxi, sye^StitrouTXi, all along, and not
euuxrce bodies ; which one may with reason think, would somewhere or other have
been expressed, if all this had been said, to propose it as an article of faith, that the very
same bodies should be raised. The same manner of speaking the Spirit of God observes
all through the New Testamerit, where it is said, (f) raise the dead, quicken or make
alive the dead, the resurrection of the dead. Nay, these very words of our Saviour (^),
urged by your lordship, for the resurrection of the ?aiv.e body, runs thus : UxvTis ol iit
ro7g uvTiUiioii dix.iiao'jr(X.i ivjc (^uvvig dvTii' xul iy-TTo^intJOvrsit, oi roi d.ya.&oi 'yrcirjaoa/iig
its xvxfXtriv ^uvig oi 3s tx C^xi'hx ■7r^x£,xvri; els dvx^xctu xfJiaeug. Would not a well
meaning searcher of the scnptures be ajit to think, that if tUe tiling here intended by our
Saviour, were to teach and propose it as an article of faith, necessary to be believed by
every one, that the very same bodies of the dead should be raised ; would not, I say, any
one be apt to think, that if our Saviour meant so, the words should rather have been,
ffxvTX rx aufixrx, & sv rols ^vnfAiloti i. e. all the bodies that are in the graves,
rather than all who are in the graves ; winch must denote persons, and not precisely
bodies ?

" Another evidence' that St. Paul makes a distinction between the dead, and the bodies
of the dead, so that the dead cannot be taken in this, 1 Cor. xv. to stand precisely for
the bodies of the dead, are these words ol" the apostle, (h) ' But some man will say, how
are the dead raised ? and with what body do they come ?' 'Which words, dead and
they, if supposed to stand precisely for the bodies of the dead, the question will run thus:
How are the dead bodies raised ? and with what bodies do the dead bodies come ? which
seems to have no very agreeable sense.

(a) Second answer. (/>) Ibid. (c) Ibid. («) 1 Cor. xv.

(e) V. 15, Si.', 'J3, 29, 32, 35, 6'2. (/') Matt. xxii. 31. Mark, xii. 26. John, v. 21.
Acts, xvi. 7. Bora. iv. 17, 2 Cor. i. 9. 1 fhes. iv. 14, 16. {£) John, v. 28, 29. (Ji) V. 35.

CA. 27. OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 281

" Tliis, therefore, being so, that the Spirit of God keeps so expressly to this phrase, or
form of speaking, in tl\e New Testament, * of raising, quickening, rising, resurrection, &c.,
(if the dead,' where the resurrection at the last day is spoken of; and that the body is not
mentioned, but in answer to this question, ' With what bodies shall those dead, who are
raised, come ?' so that by tlie dead, cannot precisely be meant the dead bodies ; I do not
see but a good Christian, who reads the scripture, with an intention to believe all that is
there revealed to iiim, concerning the resurrection, may acquit himself of his duty therein,
without entering into tije enquiry, whether the dead shall have the very same bodies or no ?
which sort of enquiry, tlie apostle, by the appellation he bestows here on him that makes
it, seems not much to encourage. Nor, if lie shall think himself bound to determine con-
cerning the identity of the bodies of tlie dead, raised at the last day ; will he, by the re-
mainder of St. Paul's answer, find the determination of the apostle to be much in favour
of the very same body, unless the being told, that the body sown, is not that body that
shall be ; that the body raised is as dirt'erent from that whicli was laid down, as the
llesii of man is from the Hesh of beasts, (ishes, and birds ; or as the sun, moon, and stars, are
dirt'erent one from anotlier ; or as diti'erent as a corruptible, weak, natural, mortal body, is
from an incorruptible, powerful, spiritual, immortal body ; and, lastly, as dillerent as a
body that is flesh and blood, is from a body that is not liesh and blood. ' For flesh and
blood cannot,' says St. Paul, in this very place, (a) ' inherit the kingdom of God,' unless,
1 say, all this, which is contained in St. Paul's words, can be supposed to be the way to
deliver this as an article of faith, which is required to be believed by every one, viz. That
the dead should be raised with the very same bodies that they had before in this life ;
which article proposed to tliese or the like plain and express words, could have left no
room for doubt in the meanest capacities ; nor for contest in the most perverse minds.

" Your lordship adds, in the next words, {b) ' And so it hath been always understood
by the Christian church, viz.. That the resurrection of the same body, in your lordship's
sense of the same body, is an article of faith.' Answer. What the Christian church has
always understood, is beyond my knowledge. But for those who coming short of your
lordship's great learning, cannot gather their articles of faith from the understanding of
all the whole Christian church, ever since the preaching of the Gospel (who make the far
greater part of Christians, I think I may say nine hundred and ninety and nine of a
thousand), but are forced to have recourse to the scripture, to find them there, I do not
see that they will easily find there this proposed as an article of faith, that there shall be
a resurrection of the same body ; but that there shall be a resurrection of the dead, with-
out explicitly determining, That they sliall be raised with bodies made up wholly of the
same particles which were once vitally united to their souls, in their former life, without
the mixture of any one other particle of matter ; which is that which your lordship means
by the same body.

" But supposing your lordship to have demonstrated this to be an article of faith,
though I crave leave to own, that I do not see that all your lordship has said here,
makes it so much as propable ; What is all this tome? 'Yes,' says your lordship in the
following words, (c) ' my idea of personal identity is inconsistent with it, for it makes the
same body which was here united to the soul, not to be necessary to the doctrine of the
resurrection. But t«ny material substance united to the same principle of consciousness,
makes the same body.'

" This is an argument of your lordship's, which I am obliged to answer to. But is it
not fit 1 should first understand it, before I answer it? Now, here I do not well know,
what it is to make a thing not to be necessary to the doctrine of the resurrection. But to
Ijelp myself out the best I can, with a guess, I will conjecture (which in disputing with
learned men, is not very safe) your lordship's meaning is. That ' my idea of personal
identity makes it not necessary,' that for the raising the same person, the body should be
the same.

" Your lordship's next word is ' but ;' to which I am ready to reply, but what ? what does
my idea of personal identity do ? for something of that kind, the adversative particle ' but'
should, in tlie ordinary construction of our language, introduce to make the proposition
clear and intelligible : but here is no such thing. ' But,' is one of your lordship's privi-
leged particles, which 1 must not meddle with ; for fear your lordship complain of rae
■ again, ' as so severe a critic, that for the least atnbiguity in any particle, fill up pages in
my answer, to make my book look considerable for the bulk of it.' But since this pro-
position here, ' my idea of a personal identity, makes t!ie same body which was here
united to the soul, not necessary to the doctrine of the resurrection : but any material

(a) V. 50. (/,) Second answer. (c) Ibid.

282 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. Bookri.

substance being united to the same principle of consciousness, makes the same body,' is
brought to prove my idea of personal identity inconsistent with the article of the resur-
rection ; 1 must make it out in some direct sense or other, that I mav see whether it be
both true and conclusive. I, therefore, venture to read it thus : ' my idea of personal
identity makes the same body which was here united to tjie soul, not to be necessary at
the resurrection, but allows, tliat any material substance being united to the same
princijile of consciousness, makes the same body. Ergo, my idea of personal identity is
inconsistent with tlie article of the resurrection of the same body.'

" If this be your lordship's sense in this passage, as I here have guessed it to be, or
else I know not what it is, I answer,

" 1, That my idea of personal identity does not allow, that any material substance, being
united to the san.e principle of consciousness, makes the same body. I say no sucli
thing in my book, nor any thing from whence it may be inferred; and your lordship
would have done me a favour to have set down the words where I say so, or those from
which you infer so, and showed how it follows from any thing I have said.

" 2, Granting, that it were a consequence from my idea of personal identity, that ' any
material substance being united to die same principle of consciousness, makes the same
body ;' this would not prove that my idea of personal identity was inconsistent with this
proposition, ' that the same body shall be raised ;' but, on tlie contrary, affirms it: since,
if I affirm, as I do, that the same persons shall be raised, and it be a consequence of my
idea of personal identity, that ' any material substance being united to the same principle
of consciousness, makes the same body ;' it follows, that if the same person be raised,
the same body must be raised ; and so I have herein not only said nothing inconsistent
with tlie resurrection of the same body, but have said more for it than your lordship.
For there can be nothing plainer, than that in the scripture it is revealed, that the same
persons shall be raised, and appear before the judgment seat of Christ, to answer for
what they have done in their bodies. If, therefore, whatever matter be joined to the
same principle of consciousness makes the same body, it is demonstration, that if tiie
same persons are raised, they have the same bodies.

" How Uien your lordship makes this an inconsistency with tlie resurrection, is beyond
my conception. ' Yes,' says your lordship, (a) ' it is inconsistent witli it, for it makes tlie
same body, which was here united to the soul, not to be necessary.'

" 3, 1 answer, therefore. Thirdly, That this is the first time I ever learnt, that ' not neces-
sary,' was the same with ' inconsistent.' I say, that a body made up of the same numerical
parts of matter, is not necessary to the making of the same person ; from whence it will
indeed follow, tliat to the resurrection of the same person, the same numerical particles
of matter are not required. What does your lordship infer from hence ? to wit, this :
therefore, he who thinks that the same particles of matter are not necessary to the
making of tlie same person, cannot believe that the same persons shall be raised with
bodies made of the very same particles of matter, if God should reveal, that it shall be
so, viz., that the same persons shall be raised with the same bodies they had before.
Which is all one as to say, that he wiio thought the blowing of rams' horns was not
necessary in itself to tlie falling down of the walls of Jericho, could not believe that
they should fall upon the blowing of rams' horns, when God had declared it should
be so.

" Your lordship says, ' my idea of personal identity is inconsistent with the article of the
resurrection ;' the reason you ground it on, is this, because it makes not the same body
necessary to the making the same person. Let us grant your lordship's consequence to
be good, what will follow from it ? No less than this, that your lordship's notion (for I
dare not say your lordship has any so dangerous things as ideas) of personal identity,
is inconsistent with tlie article of the resurrection. The demonstration of it is thus ;
your lordship says, (6) ' It is not necessary that the body to be raised at the last day,
should consist of the same particles of matter which were united at the point of death ;
for there must be a great alteration in them in a lingering disease ; as if a fat man falls
into a consumption : you do not say the same- particles which the sinner had at the
very time of commission of his sins; for then a long sinner must have a vast
body, considering the continual spending of particles by perspiration.' And again, here
your lordship says, (c) ' you allow tlie notion of personal identity to belong to the same
man, under several changes of matter.' From which words it is evident, that your
lordship supposes a person in this world may be continued and preserved the same in a

(<i) Second answer. {h) Ibid. (c) Ibid.

Ch. 27. OF IDENTETV AND DIVERSITY. 283

body not consisting of tlie same individual particles of matter ; and hence, it demon-
stratively follows, that let your lordship's notion of personal identity be what it will, it
makes ' the same body not to be necessary to the same person ;' and, tlierefore, it is by
your lordship's rule, inconsistetit with the article of the resurrection. When your
lordship shall think fit to clear your own notion of personal identity from this incon-
sistency with the article of the resurrection, 1 do not doubt but my idea of personal
identity will be thereby cleared too. Till then, all inconsistency with that article,
which your lordship has here charged on mine, will, unavoidably, fall upon your
lordship's too. ~

" But for the clearing of both, give me leave to say, my lord, that whatsoever is not
necessary, does not, thereby, become inconsistent. It is not necessary to the same
person, that his body should always consist of the same numerical particles ; this is
demonstration, because the particli^s of the bodies of the same persons, in this life,
change every moment, and your lordship cannot deny it ; and yet this makes it not
inconsistent with God's preserving, if he thinks fit, to the same persons, bodies con-
sisting of the same numerical particles always, from the resurrection to eternity. And
so, likewise, though I say any thing tiiat supposes it not necessary that the same nume-
rical particles, which were vitally united to the soul in this life, should be re-united to
it at the resurrection, and constitute the body it shall then have ; yet it is not incon-
sistent with this, that God may, if he pleases, give to every one a body consisting
only of such particles as were before vitally united to his soul. And thus, I think,
1 have cleared my book from all that inconsistency which your lordship charges on
it, and would persuade the world it has, with the article of the resurrection of the
dead.

" Only before I leave it, I will set down the remainder of what your lordship says upon
this head, tliat though I see not the coherence nor tendency of it, nor the force of any
argument in it against me ; yet that nothing may be omitted that your lordship has
thought fit to entertain your reader with, on this new point, nor any one have reason to
suspect, that I have passed by any word of your lordship's (on this now first introduced
subject) wherein he raif;ht find your lordship had proved what you had promised in your
title page. Your remaining words are tliese (a) : ' The dispute is not how far personal
identity in itself may consist in the very same material substance ; for we allow tlie
notion of personal identity to belong to the same man under several changes of matter;
but whether it doth not depend upon a vital union between the soul, and body, and the
life, which is consequent upon it ; and, therefore, in the resurrection, the same material
substance must be re-united, or else it cannot be called a resurrection, but a renovation,
i. e. it may be a new life, but not a raising the body from the dead.' I confess, I do
not see how what is here ushered in by the words, ' and, therefore,' is a consequence
from the preceding words ; but as to the propriety of the name, I think it will not be
much questioned, that if the same man rise who was dead, it may very properly be
called the resurrection of tlie dead ; which is the language of the scripture.

" I must not part with this article of the resurrection, without returning my thanks to
jour lordship for making me (6) take notice of a fault in my Essay. When I wrote
that book, I took it for granted, as I doubt not but many otliers have done, that the
scripture had mentioned, in express terms, ' tlie resurrection of tlie body.' But upon the
occasion your lordship has given me in your last letter, to look a little more narrowly into
what revelation has declared concerning the resurrection, and finding no such express
words in the scripture, as that ' the body shall rise, or be raised, or the resurrection of the
body ;' I shall, in the next edition of it, change these words of my book (c), ' The dead
bodies of men shall rise,' into these of the scripture, ' the dead shall rise.' Not that 1
question, that the dead shall be raised witli bodies ; but in matters of revelation, I
think it not only safest, but our duty, as far as any one delivers it for revelation, to
keep close to the words of the scripture, unless he will assume to himself the autho-
rity of one inspired, or make himself wiser than the Holy Spirit himself. If I had
sj)oke of the resurrection in precisely scripture terms, I had avoided giving your lordshij)
the occasion of making (d) here such a verbal re flectiou on my words ; 'What! not if
there be an idea of identity as to the body ?' "

(rt) Second answer. (6) Ibid.

(c) Essay, b. 4, c. 18, ^. 7 {d) Second answer.

284 OF OTHER RELATIONS. Book"!.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

OF OTHER RELATIONS.

§. 1. Proportional. — Besides the before-mentioned occasions
of time, place, and causality of comparing, or referring things
one to another, there are, as I have said, infinite others, some
whereof I shall mention.

First, The first I shall name, is some one simple idea ; which
being capable of parts or degrees, aflfords an occasion of com-
paring the subject wherein it is to one another, in respect of ,
that simple idea, v. g. whiter, sweeter, bigger, equal, more, &.c.
These relations depending on the equality and excess of the
same simple idea, in several subjects, may be called, if one will,
proportional; and that these are only conversant about those
simple ideas received from sensation or reflection, is so evident,
that nothing need be said to evince it.

§. 2. Natural. — Secondly, Another occasion of comparing
things together, or considering one thing, so as to include in
that consideration some other thing, is the circumstances of
their origin or beginning; which being not afterwards to be
altered, make the relations depending thereon, as lasting as the
subjects to which they belong ; v. g. father and son, brothers,
cousin-germans, &c., which have their relations by one commu-
nity of blood, wherein they partake in several degrees ; country-
men, i. e., those who were born in the same country, or tract of
ground ; and these I call natural relations : wherein we may
observe, that mankind have fitted their notions and words to the
use of common life, and not to the truth and extent of things.
For it is certain, that in reality, the relation is the same betwixt
the begetter and the begotten, in the several races of other
animals, as well as men; but yet it is seldom said, this bull is
the grandfather of such a calf ; or that two pigeons are cousin-
germans. It is very convenient, that by distinct names, these
relations should be observed, and marked out, in mankind, there
being occasion, both in laws, and other communications one
with another, to mention and take notice of men under these
relations ; from whence also arise the obligations of several
duties amongst men ; whereas in brutes, men having very little
or no cause to mind these relations, they have not thought fit to
give them distinct and peculiar names. This, by the way, may
give us some light into the different state and growth of lan-
guages ; which being suited only to the convenience of com-
munication, are proportioned to the notions men have, and the
commerce of thoughts familiar amongst them ; and not to the

C/t.28. OF MORAL RELATIONS. 285

reality or extent of things, nor to the various respects might be
found among them : nor the different abstract considerations
might be framed about them. Where they had no philosophical
notions, there they had no terms to express them ; and it is no
wonder men should have framed no names for those things they
found no occasion to discourse of. From whence it is easy to
imagine, why, as in some countries, they may not have so much
as tiie name for a horse ; and in others, where they are more
careful of the pedigrees of their horses than of their own, that
there they may have, not only names for particular horses, but
also of their several relations of kindred one to another.

§. 3. Instituted. — Thirdly, Sometimes the foundation of con-
sidering things, with reference to one another, is some act
whereby any one comes by a moral right, power, or obligation
to do something. Thus a general is one that hath power to
command an army ; and an army under a general, is a collection
of armed men, obliged to obey one man. A citizen, or a
burgher, is one who has a right to certain privileges in this or
that place. All this sort, depending upon men's wills, or agree-
ment in society, I call instituted, or voluntary, and may be dis-
tinguished from the natural, in that they are most, if not all, of
them, some way or other alterable, and separable from the per-
sons to whom they have sometimes belonged, though neither of
the substances, so related, be destroyed. Now, though these
are all reciprocal, as well as the rest, and contain in them a
reference of two things one to the other ; yet, because one of
the two things often wants a relative name, importing that
reference, men usually take no notice of it, and the relation is
commonly overlooked, v. g. a patron and client are easily allowed
to be relations ; but a constable, or dictator, are not so readily,
at first hearing, considered as such ; because there is no peculiar
name for those who are under the command of a dictator, or
constable, expressing a relation to either of them ; though it be
certain, that either of them hath a certain power over some
others ; and so is so far related to them, as well as a patron is
to his client, or general to his army.

§. 4. Moral. — Fourthly, There is another sort of relation,
which is the conformity or disagreement men's voluntary actions
have to a rule to which they are referred, and by which they are
judged of; which, I think, may be called moral relation, as being
that which denominates our moral actions, and deserves well to
be examined, there being no part of knowledge wherein we
should be more careful to oet determined ideas, and avoid, as
much as may be, obscurity and confusion. Human actions,
when with their various ends, objects, manners, and circum-

286 OF MORAL RELATIONS. Bookl.

stances, they are framed into distinct complex ideas, are, as ha^
been shown, so many mixed modes, a great part whereof have
names annexed to them. Thus, supposing gratitude to be a
readiness to acknowledge and return kindness received ; poly-
gamy to be the having more wives than one at once ; when we
frame these notions thus in our minds, we have there so many
determined ideas of mixed modes. But this is not all that con-
cerns our actions ; it is not enough to have determined ideas of
them, and to know what names belong to such and such com-
binations of ideas. We have a farther and greater concern-
ment, and that is, to know whether such actions, so made up,
are morally good or bad.

§. 5. Moral good and evil. — Good and evil, as hath been
shown, b. 2, c. 20, §. 2, and c. 21, §. 42, are nothing but
pleasure or pain, or that which occasions or procures pleasure
or pain to us. Moral good and evil, then, is only the con-
formity or disagreement of our voluntary actions to some law,
whereliy good or evil is drawn on us by the will and power
of the law-maker : which good and evil, pleasure or pain, at-
tending our observance, or breach of the law, by the decree of
the law-maker, is that we call reward and punishment.

§. 6. Moral rules. — Of these moral rules, or laws, to which men
generally refer, and by which they judge of the rectitude or
pravity of their actions, there seem to me to be three sorts,
with their three different enforcements, or rewards and punish-
ments. For since it would be utterly in vain to suppose a rule
set to the free actions of man, without annexing to it some
enforcement of good and evil, to determine his will, we must,
wherever we suppose a law, suppose also some reward or punish-
ment annexed to that law. It would be in vain for one intel-
ligent being to set a rule to the actions of another, if he had it
not in his power to reward the compliance with, and punish
deviation from, his rule, by some good and evil, that is not the
natural product and consequence of the action itself; for that
being a natural convenience, or inconvenience, would operate of
itself, without a law. This, if I mistake not, is the true nature
of all law, properly so called.

§. 7. Laws. — The laws that men generally refer their actions
to, to judge of their rectitude or obliquity, seem to me to be
'these three : 1, The divine law. 2, The civil law. 3, The law of
opinion or reputation, if I may so call it. By the relation they
bear to the first of these, men judge whether their actions are
sins or duties; by the second, whether they be criminal or inno-
cent; and by the third, whether they be virtues or vices.

&. 8. Divine law, the measure of sin and duty. — First, The

Ch. 28. OF MORAL RELATIONS. 287

divine law, whereby I mean that law which God has set to the
actions of men, whether promulgated to them by the light of
nature, or the voice of revelation. That God has o;iven a rule
whereby men should govern themselves, I think there is nobody
so brutish as to deny. He has a right to do it ; we are his crea-
tures ; he has goodness and wisdom to direct our actions to that
which is best; and he has power to enforce it by rewards and
punishments, of infinite weight and duration, in another life ;
for nobody can take us out of his hands. This is the only true
touchstone of moral rectitude ; and by comparing them to this
law, it is that men judge of the most considerable moral good
or evil of their actions ; that is, whether as duties or sins, they
are like to procure them happiness or misery from the hands of
the Almighty.

§. 9. Civil law, the measure of crimes and innocence. —
Secondly, The civil law, the rule set by the commonwealth to
the actions of those who belong to it, is another rule to which
men refer their actions, to judge whether they be criminal or
no. This law nobody overlooks ; the rewards and punishments
that enforce it, being ready at hand, and suitable, to the power
that makes it ; which is the force of the commonwealth, en-
gaged to protect the lives, liberties, and possessions of those
who live according to its laws ; and has power to take away life,
liberty, or goods from him who disobeys ; which is the punish-
ment of offences committed ag-ainst this law.

§. 10. Philosophical laic, the measure of virtue and vice. —
Thirdly, The law of opinion, or reputation. Virtue and vice are
names pretended, and supposed, everywhere to stand for actions in
their own nature, right and wrong ; and as far as they really are so
applied, they so far are co-incident with the divine law above-
mentioned. But yet, whatever is pretended, this is visible, that
these names, virtue and vice, in the particular instances of their
application, through the several nations and societies of men in
the world, are constantly attributed only to such actions, as, in
each country and society, are in reputation or discredit. Nor is
it to be thought strange, that men, every where, should give the
name of virtue to those actions, which, amongst them, are judo-ed
praiseworthy ; and call that vice, which they account blameable ;
since, otherwise, they would condemn themselves, if they
should think any thing right, to which they allowed not com-
mendation ; any thing wrong, which they let pass without blame.
Thus, the measure of what is every where called and esteemed
virtue and vice, is the approbation or dislike, praise or blame,
which, by a secret and tacit conseht, establishes itself in the
several societies, tribes, and clubs of men in the world, whereby

288 OF MORAL RELATIONS. Book 2.

several actions come to find credit or disgrace amongst them,
according to tlie judgment, maxims, or fashion of that place.
For though men uniting into politic societies, have resigned up
to the public the disposing of all their force, so that they cannot
employ it against any fellow-citizens, any farther than the law of
the country directs ; yet they retain still the power of thinking
well or ill, approving or disapproving, of the actions of those
whom they live amongst, and converse with ; and by this appro-
bation and dislike, they establish amongst themselves what they
will call virtue and vice.

§.11. That this is the common measure of virtue and vice,
will appear to any one, who considers, that though that passes
for vice in one country, which is counted a virtue, or at least
not vice, in another ; yet every where, virtue and praise, vice
and blame, go together. Virtue is every where that which is
thought praiseworthy ; and nothing else but that which has
the allowance of public esteem, is called virtue *. Virtue and

* Our author, in his preface to the fourth edition, taking notice how apt men have
been to mistake liini, added what here follows. " Of this, the ingenious author of the
discourse concerning the nature of man, has given me a late instance, to mention no
other. For the civility of his expressions, and the candour that belongs to his order, for-
bid me to think, that he would have closed his preface with an insinuation, as if in
what I had said, book 2, chap. 28, concerning the third rule, which men refer their
actions to, 1 went about to make virtue vice, and vice virtue, unless he had mistaken
my meaning, which he could not have done, if he had but given himself the trouble to
consider what the argument was I was tlien upon, and what was the chief design of that
chapter, plainly enough set down in the fourth section, and those following. For I was
there not laying down moral rules, but showing the original and nature of moral ideas,
and enumerating tlie rules men make use of in moral relations, whether those rules were
true or false : and pursuant thereunto, 1 tell what has every where that denomination,
which, in the language of tliat place, answers to virtue and vice in ours, w hich alters not
the nature of things, though men do generally judge of, and denominate, their actions
according to the esteem and fashion of the place, or sect they are of.

" If he had been at the pains to reflect on what I had said, b. 1, c. 3, {. 18, and in this
present chapter, §. 13, 14, 15, and 20, he would have known what I think of the eternal
and unalterable nature of right and wrong, and what I call virtue and vice : and if he
had observed, that in the place he quotes, I only report as matter of fact, what others call
virtue and vice, he wouhl not have found it liable to any great exception. For, I think,
I am not much out in saying, That one of the rules made use of in the world for a ground
or measure of a moral relation, is that esteem and reputation which several sorts of
actions find variously in the several societies of men, according to which they are there called
virtues or vices ; and whatsoever authority the learned iMr. Lowde places in his old
English Dictionary, 1 dare say it no where tells him (if I should appeal to it), that the .
same action is not in credit, called and counted a virtue in one place, which- being in '
disrepute, passes for, and under the name of, vice, in another. The taking notice that
men bestow the names of virtue and vice according to this rule of reputation, is all I
have done, or can be laid to my charge to have done, towards the making vice virtue,
and virtue vice. But the good man does well, and as becomes his calling, to be watch-
ful in such points, and to take the alann, even at expressions, which standing alone by
themselves, might sound ill, and be suspected.

" It is to this zeal allowable in his function, that I forgive his citing, as he does, these
words of mine in 6. 11 of this chapter : • The exhortations of inspired teachers have not
feared tu appeal to common repute, ' whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are

Ch. 28. OF MORAL RELATIONS. 389

praise arc so united^ that they are called often by the same name.
" Siyit sua pra?mia laiidi," says Virgil; and so Cicero, " nihil
habet natura privstantius, quam honestatera, quam laudem, quam
dignitatem, quam decus ;" which, he tells you, are all names for
the same thing, Tusc. \l ii. This is the language of the Heathen
philosophers, who well understood wherein their notions of
virtue and vice consisted. And though, perhaps, by the dif-
ferent temper, education, fashion, maxims, or interest of dif-

of good report, if tliere be any virtue, if there be any praise,' &c. Phil. iv. 8, without
taking notice of tliose immediately preceding, whicli introduce them, and run thus ;
' whereby in the eorrujition of manners, the true boundaries of the law of nature, which
ouglit to be tlie rule of virtue and vice, were pretty well preserved : so that even the
exhortations of inspired teachers,' Sec. By which words, and the rest of that section, it
is plain, that I brought this passage of St. Paul not to prove that the general measure
of what men call virtue and vice, througliout the world, was the reputation and fashion
of each particular society witliin itself; but to show, tliat though it were so, yet, foi
reasons 1 there give men, in that way of denominating th'jir actions, did not, for the
most part, much vary from the law of nature, which is that standing and unalterable rule,
by which they ought to judge of the moral rectitude and pravity of tlieir actions, and
accordingly denominate them virtues or vices. Had Mr. Lowde considered this, he
would liave found it little to his ]iurpose, to have quoted that passage in a sense
I used it not ; and would, I imagine, have spared the explication he subjoins to it, as
not very necessary. But I hope this second edition will give him satisfaction in the
point, !ind that this matter is now so expressed, as to show him there was no cause of
scruple.

" Though T am forced to differ from him in those apprehensions he has expressed in the
latter end of his preface, concerning what I had said about virtue and vice ; yet we are
better agreed than he thinks, in wjiat he says in his third chapter, p. 78, concerning
natural inscri])tion, and innate notions. I shall not deny him the privilege he claims,
p. o2, to state the question as he pleases, especially when he states it so, as to leave
nothing in it contrary to what 1 have said : for according to him, innate notions beino-
conditional things depending upon the concurrence of several other circumstances, in order
to the soul's exerting them, all that he says for innate, imprinted, impressed notions (for
of innate ideas he says nothing at all^, amounts at last only to tiiis ; that there are certain
propositions, which though the soul from the beginning, or when a man is born, does not
know, yet, by assistance from the f)utuard senses, and the help of some previous cultiva-
tion, it may afterwards come certainly to know the truth of ; which is no more than what
1 have allirmed in my rirst book. For 1 suppose by the soul's exerting them, he means
its beginning to know them ; or else the soul's exerting of notions, will be to me a very
unintelligible expression ; and, I think, at best is a very unfit one in tins case, it mis-
leading men's thoughts by an insinuation, as if these notions were in the mind before the
soul exerts them, i. e. before they are known : whereas truly before tiiey are known, there
is nothing of them in the mind, but a capacity to know them, when the concurrence
of those circumstances, which this ingenious author thinks necessary, in order to the
soul's exerting them, brings them into our knowledge.

" P. 32, I find him express it tlms : ' these natural notions are not so imprinted upon
the soul, as that they naturally and necessarily exert themselves (even in children and
idiots) without any assistance from the outward senses, or without the help of some
j)revious cultivation.' Here he says they exert themselves, as p. 78, that tiie soul exerts
them. When he has explained to himself or others what he means by tlie soul's exerting
innate notions, or their exerting themselves, and what that previous cultivation and cir-
cumstances, in order to tlieir being exerted, are ; he will, I suppose, find there is so little
of controversy between him and me in the point, bating tliat he calls that exerting of
notions, which I, in a more vulgar style, call knowing, that I have reason to think he
brought in my name upon this occasion only out of the pleasure he has to speak civilly of
me; which I must gratefully acknowledge he has done, wherever he mentions me, not
witliout conferring on me, as some others hare doue, a title I have no right to."

U

200 OF MORAL KELATIOJNS. Book 2.

ferent sorts of men, it fell out, that what was thought praise-
worthy in one place, escaped not censure in another; and so in
different societies, virtues and vices were changed : yet, as to
the main, they for the most part kept the same every where.
For since nothing can be more natural, than to encourage with
esteem and reputation, that wherein every one finds his ad-
vantage ; and to blame and discountenance the contrary ; it is
no wonder, that esteem and discredit, virtue and vice, should, in
a great measure, every where correspond with the unchangeable
rule of right and wrong, which the law of God hath established ;
there being nothing that so directly and visibly secures and
advances the general good of mankind in this world, as obe-
dience to the laws he has set them, and nothing that breeds
such mischiefs and confusion, as the neglect of them. And,
therefore, men, without renouncing all sense and reason, and
their own interest, which they are so constantly true to, could
not generally mistake in placing their commendation and blame
on that side that really deserved it not. Nay, even those men,
whose practice was otherwise, failed not to give their approba-
tion right ; few being depraved to that degree as not to con-
demn, at least in others, the faults they themselves were guilty
of: whereby even in the corruption of manners, the true boun-
daries of the law of nature, which ought to be the rule of virtue
and vice, were pretty well preserved. So that even the exhor-
tations of inspired teachers have not feared to appeal to com-
mon repute : " Whatsoever is lovely, whatsoever is of good report,
if there be any virtue, if there be any praise," Sec. Phil. iv. 8.

^. 12. Its enforcement, commendation, and discredit, — If any
one should imagine, that I have forgot my own notion of a law,
when I make the law whereby men judge of virtue and vice,
to be nothing else but the consent of private men, who have
not authority enough to make a law ; especially wanting that
which is so necessary and essential to a law, a power to enforce
it ; I think I may say, that he who imagines commendation
and disgrace not to be strong motives to men, to accommodate
themselves to the opinions and rules of those with whom they
converse, seems little skilled in the nature or history of man-
kind : the greatest part whereof he shall find to govern them-
selves chiefly, if not solely, by this law of fashion ; and so they
do that which keeps them in reputation with their company,
little regard the laws of God or the magistrate. The penalties
that attend the breach of God's laws, some, nay, perhaps most,
men, seldom seriously reflect on ; and amongst those that do,
many, whilst they break the law, entertain thoughts of future
reconciliation, and making their peace for such breaches : and

C7«. 28. OF MORAL RELATIONS. 291

as to the punishments due from the laws of the commonwealth,
they frequently flatter themselves with the hopes of impunity.
But no man escapes the punishment of their censure and dis-
like, who offends against the fashion and opinion of the com-
pany he keeps, and would recommend himself to. Nor is there
one of ten thousand, who is stiff and insensible enough to bear
up under the constant dislike and condemnation of his own
club. He must be of a strange and unusual constitution, who
can content himself to live in constant disgrace and disrepute
with his own particular society. Solitude many men have
sought, and been reconciled to : but nobody, that has the least
thought or sense of a man about him, can live in society under
the constant dislike and ill opinion of his familiars, and those
he converses with. This is a burden too heavy for human suf-
ferance : and he must be made up of irreconcilable contradic-
tions, who can take pleasure in company, and yet be insensible
of contempt and disgrace from his companions.

§. 13. These three laws, the rules of moral good and evil. —
These three then. First, The law of God. Secondly, The law
of politic societies. Thirdly, The law of fashion, or private
censure ; are those to which men variously compare their
actions : and it is by their conformity to one of these laws, that
they take their measures, when they would judge of their moral
rectitude, and denominate their actions good or bad.

§. 14. Morality is the relation of actions to these rules. —
Whether the rule, to which, as to a touch-stone, we bring our
voluntary actions, to examine them by, and try their goodness,
and accordingly to name them ; which is, as it were, the mark
of the value we set upon them ; whether, I say, we take that
rule from the fashion of the country, or the will of a law-maker,
the mind is easily able to observe the relation any action hath
to it ; and to judge whether the action agrees, or disagrees, with
the rule ; and so hath a notion of moral goodness or evil, which
is either conformity, or not conformity, of any action to that
rule ; and, therefore, is often called moral rectitude. This rule
being nothing but a collection of several simple ideas, the con-
formity thereto is but so ordering the action, that the simple
ideas belonging to it, may correspond to those which the law
requires. And thus we see how moral beings and notions are
founded on, and terminated in, these simple ideas we have re-
ceived from sensation or reflection. For example. Let us con-
sider the complex idea we signify by the word murder; and
when we have taken it asunder, and examined all the parti-
culars, we shall find them to amount to a collection of simple
ideas derived from reflection or sensation, viz., First, From re-

u 2

•292 OF MORAL RELATIONS. Book 2.

flection on the operations of our own minds, we have the ideas
of willing, considering, proposing before-hand, malice, or wish-
ing ill to another ; and also of life, or perception, and self-
motion. Secondly, From sensation, we have the collection of
those simple sensible ideas which are to be found in a man, and
of some action, whereby we put an end to perception and
motion in the man ; all which simple ideas, are comprehended
in the word murder. This collection of simple ideas being
found by me to agree or disagree with the esteem of the country
I have been bred in, and to be held by most men there, worthy
praise or blame, I call the action virtuous or vicious : if I have
the will of a supreme, invisible Law-giver for my rule ; then, as
I supposed the action commanded or forbidden by God, I call it
good or evil, sin or duty : and if I compare it to the civil law, the
rule made by the legislative power of the country, I call it lawful
or unlawful, a crime or no crime. So that whencesoever we
take the rule of moral actions, or by what standard soever we
frame in our minds the ideas of virtues or vices, they consist
only, and are made up, of collections of simple ideas, which we
originally received from sense or reflection, and their rectitude
or obliquity consists in the agreement or disagreement with
those patterns prescribed by some law.

§. 15. To conceive rightly of moral actions, we must take
notice of them under this two-fold consideration. First, As
they are in themselves each made up of such a collection
of simple ideas. Thus drunkenness or lying, signify such
or such a collection of simple ideas, which I call mixed
modes : and in this sense, they are as much positive absolute
ideas, as the drinking of a horse, or speaking of a parrot.
Secondly, Our actions are considered as good, bad, or indif-
ferent; and in this respect, they are relative; it being their
conformity to, or disagreement with, some rule, that makes them
to be regular or irregular, good or bad : and so, as far as they
are compared with a rule, and thereupon denominated, they
come under relation. Thus the challenging and fighting with a
man, as it is a certain positive mode, or particular sort of
action, by particular ideas distinguished from all others, is
called duelling : which, when considered in relation to the law
of God, will deserve the name sin ; to the law of fashion, in
some countries, valour and virtue ; and to the municipal laws of
some governments, a capital crime. In this case, when the
positive mode has one name, and another name as it stands in
relation to the law, the distinction may as easily be observed,
as it is in substances, where one name, v. g. man, is used to
signify the thing; another, v. g. father, to signify the relation.

C7i.2». OF MORAL RELATIONS. 293

§. 16. The denominations of actions often mislead us. — But
because very frequently the positive idea of the action, and its
moral relation, are comprehended together under one name, and
the same word made use of to express both the mode or action,
and its moral rectitude or obliquity ; therefore, the relation
itself is less taken notice of; and there is often no distinction
made between the positive idea of the action, and the reference
it has to a rule. By which confusion of these two distinct con-
siderations under one term, those who yield too easily to the
impressions of sounds, and are forward to take names for things,
are often misled in their judgment of actions. Thus, the taking
from another what is his, without his knowledge or allow-
ance, is properly called stealing : but that name being com-
monly understood to signify also the moral pravity of the
action, and to denote its contrariety to the law, men are apt to
condemn whatever they hear called stealing, as an ill action,
disagreeing with the rule of right. And yet, the private taking
away this sword from a madman, to prevent his doing mischief,
though it be properly denominated stealing, as the name of such
a mixed mode ; yet, when compared to the law of God, and
considered in its relation to that supreme rule, it is no sin or
transgression, though the name stealing ordinarily carries such
an intimation with it.

§. 17. Relations innumerable. — And thus much for the re-
lation of human actions to a law, which, therefore, I call moral
relation.

It would make a volume to go over all sorts of relations : it is
not therefore to be expected, that I should here mention them
all. It suffices to our present purpose, to show by these, what
the ideas are we have of this comprehensive consideration,
called relation : which is so various, and the occasions of it so
many (as many as there can be of comparing things one to
another), that it is not very easy to reduce it to rules, or under
just heads. Those I have mentioned, I think, are some of the
most considerable, and such as may serve to let us see from
whence we get our ideas of relations, and wherein they are
founded. But before I quit this argument, from what has been
said, give me leave to observe :

§. 18. All relations terminate in simple ideas. — First, That it
is evident, that all relation terminates in, and is ultimately
founded on, those simple ideas we have got from sensation or
reflection: so that all we have in our thoughts ourselves (if we
think of any thing, or have any meaning), or would signify to
others, when we use words standing for relations, is nothing but
some simple ideas, or collections of simple ideas, compared one

u 3

294 OF MORAL RELATIONS. Book 2.

with another. This is so manifest in that sort called pro-
portional, that nothing can be more. For when a man says,
honey is sweeter than wax, it is plain, that his thoughts in this
relation, terminate in this simple idea, sweetness, which is
equally true of all the rest; though, where they are compounded,
or decompounded, the simple ideas they are made up of, are,
perhaps, seldom taken notice of; v. g, when the word father
is mentioned : First, There is meant that particular species, or
collective idea, signified by the Avord man. Secondly, Those sen-
sible simple ideas signified by the word generation : and. Thirdly,
the effects of it, and all the simple ideas signified by the word
child. So the word friend, being taken for a man who loves,
and is ready to do good to another, has all these following ideas,
to the making of it up : First, all the simple ideas compre-
hended in the word man, or intelligent being. Secondly, The
idea of love. Thirdly, The idea of readiness, or disposition.
Fourthly, The idea of action, which is any kind of thought or
motion. Fifthly, The idea of good, which signifies any thing
that may advance his happiness, and terminates at last, if
examined, in particular simple ideas, of which the word good, in
general, signifies any one ; but if removed from all simple ideas
quite, it signifies nothing at all. And thus also all moral words
terminate at last, though, perhaps, more remotely, in a collection
of simple ideas : the immediate signification of relative words,
being very often other supposed known relations ; which, if
traced one to another, still end in simple ideas.

§. 19. IVe have ordinarily as clear (or clearer) a notion of the
relation, as of its foundation. — Secondly, That in relations, we
have for the most part, if not always, as clear a notion of the
relation, as we have of those simple ideas wherein it is founded :
agreement or disagreement, whereon relation depends, being-
things whereof we have commonly as clear ideas as of any other
whatsoever ; it being but the distinguishing simple ideas, or
their degrees, one from another, without which, we could have
no distinct knowledge at all. For if I have a clear idea of
sweetness, light, or extension, I have too, of equal, or more, or
less, of each of these : if I know what it is for one man to be
born of a woman, viz., Sempronia, I know what it is for another
man to be born of the same woman, Sempronia ; and so have as
clear a notion of brothers, as of births, and perhaps clearer.
For if I believed that Sempronia digged Titus out of the
parsley-bed (as they use to tell children), and thereby became
his mother ; and that afterwards in the same manner she digged
Caius out of the parsley-bed, I had as clear a notion of the
relation of brothers between them, as if I had all the skill of a

CA. 29. OF CLEAR AND OBSCURE IDEAS. 295

midwife ; the notion that the same woman contributed, as mother,
equally to their births (though I were ignorant or mistaken in
the manner of it), being that on which I grounded the relation,
and that they agreed in that circumstance of birth, let it be
what it will. The comparing them then in their descent from
the same person, without knowing the particular circu)ustances
of that descent, is enough to found my notion of their leaving or
not havinEc the relation of brothers. But though the ideas of
particular relations are capable of being as clear and distinct in
the minds of those who will duly consider them, as those of
mixed modes, and more determinate than those of substances ;
yet the names belonging to relation, are often of as doubtful and
uncertain signification, as those of substances or mixed modes ;
and much more than those of simple ideas ; because relative
words being the marks of this comparison, which is made only
by men's thoughts, and is an idea only in men's minds, men
frequently apply them to different comparisons of things,
according to their own imaginations, which do not always
correspond with those of others using the same names.

§. 20. The notion of the relation is the same, whether the
rule and action is compared to be true or false. — Thirdhj, That
in these I call moral relations, I have a true notion of relation
by comparing the action with the rule, whether the rule be true
or false. For if I measure any thing by a yard, I know whether
the thing I measure be longer or shorter than that supposed
yard, though, perhaps, the yard I measure by, be not exactly
the standard : which, indeed, is another enquiry. For though
the rule be erroneous, and I mistaken in it, yet the agreement
or disagreement observable in that which I compare with,
makes me perceive the relation. Though measuring by a wrong
rule, I shall thereby be brought to judge amiss of its moral
rectitude, because I have tried it by that which is not the true
rule, yet I am not mistaken in the relation which that action
bears to that rule I compare it to, which is agreement, or
disagreement.

CHAPTER XXIX.

OF CLEAR AND OBSCURE, DISTINCT AND CONFUSED IDEAS.

§. 1. Ideas, some clear and distinct, others obscure and
confused. — Having shown the original of oui- ideas, and taken a
view of their several sorts ; considered the difference between
the simple and the complex, and observed how the comple.x

u4

290 OF CLEAR AND OUSCURE IDEAS. Bookl.

ones are divided into those of modes, substances and relations ;
all which, I think, is necessary to be done by any one who would
acquaint himself thoroughly with the progress of the mind in its
apprehension and knowledge of things, it will, perhaps, be
thought I have dwelt long enough upon the examination of
ideas. I must, nevertheless, crave leave to offer some few
other considerations concerning them. The first is, that
some are clear, and others obscure ; some distinct, and others
confused.

§. 2. Clear and ohscure, explained hy sight. — The perception
of the mind being most aptly explained by words relating to the
sight, we shall best understand what is meant by clear and
obscure in our ideas, by reflecting on what we call clear and
obscure in the objects of sight, light being that which discovers
to us visible objects, we give the name of obscure to that which
is not placed in a light sufficient to discover minutely to us
the fioure and colours which are observable in it, and which, in
a better light, would be discernable. In like manner, our simple
ideas are clear, when they are such as the objects themselves,
from whence they were taken, did or might, in a well-ordered
sensation or perception, present them. Whilst the memory
retains them thus, and can produce them to the mind, whenever
it has occasion to consider them, they are clear ideas. So far
as they either want any thing of the original exactness, or have
lost any of their first freshness, and are, as it were, faded or
tarnished by time, so far are they obscure. Complex ideas, as
they are made up of simple ones, so they are clear, when the
ideas that go to their composition are clear; and the number
and order of those simple ideas, that are the ingredients of any
complex one, is determinate and certain.

§. 3. Causes of obscurity. — The causes of obscurity in simple
ideas, seem to be either dull organs, or very slight and transient
impressions made by the objects ; or else a weakness in the
memory not able to retain them as received. For to return
again to visible objects, to help us to apprehend this matter; if
the organs or faculties of perception, like wax over-hardened
with cold, will not receive the impression of the seal, from the
usual impulse wont to imprint it ; or, like wax of a temper too
soft, will not hold it well when well imprinted; or else supposing
the wax of a temper fit, but the seal not applied with a sufiioieut
force to make a clear impression ; in any of these cases, the
print left by the seal, will be obscure. This, I suppose, needs
no application to make it plainer.

§. 4. Distinct and confused, what. — As a clear idea is that
whereof the mind has such a full and evident perception, as it

Ch. 29. OF CLEAR AND OBSCURE IDEAS. 297 '

does receive from an outward object operating duly on a well- ;
disposed organ; so a distinct idea is that wherein the mind per- '
ceives a difference from all other ; and a confused idea is such I
an one as is not sufficiently distinguishable from another, from I
which it ought to be different. j

§. 5. Objection. — If no idea be confused, but such as is not I
sufficiently distinguishable from another, from which it should
be different; it will be hard, may any one say, to find any where !
a confused idea. For let any idea be as it will, it can be no '
other but such as the mind perceives it to be ; and that very
perception sufficiently distinguishes it from all other ideas, which I
cannot be other, i. e. different, without being perceived to be so.
No idea, therefore, can be undistinguishable from another, from "
which it ought to be different, unless you would have it different i
from itself; for from all other, it is evidently different.

§. 6. Confusion of ideas is in reference to their names. — To !
remove this difficulty, and to help us to conceive aright what it '
is that makes the confusion ideas are at any time chargeable '
with, we must consider, that things ranked under distinct names, ]
are supposed different enough to be distinguished ; and so each
sort, by its peculiar name, may be marked, and discoursed of
apart upon any occasion; and there is nothing more evident, than
that the greatest part of different names are supposed to stand
for different things. Now, every idea a man has, being visibly
what it is, and distinct from all other ideas but itself, that which j
makes it confused, is, when it is such, that it may as well be
called by another name, as that which it is expressed by, the I
difference which keeps the things (to be ranked under those two I
different names) distinct, and makes some of them belong rather !
to the one, and some of them to the other, of those names, being |
left out ; and so the distinction, which was intended to be kept
up by those different names, is quite lost.

§. 7. Defaults which make confusion. — The defaults which I
usually occasion this confusion, I think, are chiefly these following: i

First complex ideas made up of too few simple ones. — First,
When any complex idea (for it is complex ideas that are i
most liable to confusion) is made up of too small a number
of simple ideas, and such only as are common to other things,
whereby the differences that make it, deserve a different name,
are left out. Thus, he that has an idea made up of barely the
.simple ones of a beast with spots, has but a confused idea of a I
leopard, it not being thereby sufficiently distinguished from a lynx,
and several other sorts of beasts, that are spotted. So that such
an idea, though it hath the peculiar name leopard, is not distin- |
guishable from those designed by the names lynx, or panther, [

298 OF CLEAR AND OBSCURE IDEAS. Book^l.

and may as well come under the name lynx, as leopard. How
much the custom of defining of words by general terms, con-
tributes to make the ideas we would express by them confused
and undetermined, I leave others to consider. This is evident,
that confused ideas are such as render the use of woi'ds un-
certain, and take away the benefit of distinct names. When the
ideas for which we use different terms, have not a difference
answerable to their distinct names, and so cannot be distinguished
by them, there it is that they are truly confused.

§. 8. Secondly, oi' its simple ones j^mibhd disorderly together . —
Secondly, Another fault which makes our ideas confused, is
when though the particulars that make up any ideas, are in
number enough ; yet they are so jumbled together, that it is not
easily discernible, whether it more belongs to the name that is
given it, than to any other. There is nothing more proper to make
us conceive this confusion, than a sort of pictures usually shown
as surprising pieces of art, wherein the colours, as they are laid
by the pencil on the table itself, mark out very odd and unusual
figures, and have no discernible order in their position. This
draught, thus made up of parts, wherein no symmetry nor order
appears, is, in itself, no more a confused thing, than the picture
of a cloudy sky ; wherein, though there be as little order of
colours or figures to be found, yet nobody thinks it a confused
picture. What is it then that makes it to be thought confused,
since the want of symmetry does not? as it is plain it does
not ; for another draught made barely in imitation of this, could
not be called confused. I answer, that which makes it be thought
confused, is the applying it to some name, to which it does no
more discernibly belong, than to some other : v. g. when it is
said to be the picture of a man, or Caesar, then any one with
reason counts it confused. Because it is not discernible in that
state to belong more to the name man, or Caesar, than to the
name baboon, or Pompey, which are supposed to stand for
different ideas from those signified by man, or Cassar. But
when a cylindrical mirror, placed right, hath reduced those
irregular lines on the table into their due order and proportion,
then the confusion ceases, and the eye presently sees that it is
a man, or Ceesar ; i. e. that it belongs to those names ; and that
it is sufficiently distinguishable from a baboon, or Pompey ; i. e.
from the ideas signified by those names. Just thus it is with
our ideas, which are, as it were, the pictures of things. No one
of these mental draughts, however the parts are put together,
can be called confused (for they are plainly discernible as they
are), till it be ranked under some ordinary name, to which it

Ch. 29. OF CLEAR AND OBSCURE IDEAS. 299

cannot be discerned to belong, any more than it does to some
other name, of an allowed different signification.

§. 9. Thirdly, or are mulahle and undelermined. — Thirdly, A
third defect that frequently gives the name of confused to our
ideas, is, when any one of them is uncertain, and undetermined.
Thus we may observe men, who not forbearing to use the ordinary
words of their language, till they have learned their precise
signification, change the idea they make this or that term stand
for, almost as often as they use it. He that does this, out of
uncertainty of what he should leave out, or put into, his idea of
church, or idolatvy, every time he thinks of either, and holds
not steady to any one precise combination of ideas that makes
it up, is said to have a confused idea of idolatry, or the church ;
though this be still for the same reason as the former, viz.
because a mutable idea (if we will allow it to be one idea) can-
not belong to one name, rather than another ; and so loses the
distinction that distinct names are designed for.

§. 10. Confusion without reference to names, hardly conceivable.
— By what has been said, we may observe how much names, as
supposed steady signs of things, and by their difference to stand
for and keep things distinct, that in themselves are different,
are the occasion of denominating ideas distinct or confused, by
a secret and unobserved reference the mind makes of its ideas
to such names. This, perhaps, will be fuller understood, after
what I say of words, in the third book, has been read and con-
sidered. But without taking notice of such a reference of ideas
to distinct names, as the signs of distinct things, it will be hard
to say what a confused idea is. And, therefore, when a man
designs, by any name, a sort of things, or any one particular
thing, distinct from all others, the complex idea he annexes to
that name, is the more distinct, the more particular the ideas
are, and the greater and more determinate the number and order
of them are, whereof it is made up. For the more it has of these,"
the more it has still of the perceivable differences whereby it is
kept separate and distinct from all ideas belonging to othei-
names, even those that approach nearest to it, and thereby all
confusion with them is avoided.

§. 11. Confusion concerns always two ideas. — Confusion,
making it a difficulty to separate two tilings that should be
separated, concerns always two ideas ; and those most, which
most a])proach one another. Whenever, therefore, we suspect any
idea to be confused, we must examine what other it is in danger
to be confounded with, or which it cannot easily be separated
from, and that will always be found an idea belonging to another
name, and so should be a different thins: from which yet it is

aoo OF CLEAR AND OJJSCURE IDEAS. Book^l.

not sufficiently distinct ; being either the same with it, or making
a part of it, or at least, as properly called by that name, as the
other it is ranked under ; and so keeps not that difference from
that other idea, which the different names import.

§. 12. Causes of confusion.— Th.^, I think, is the confusion
proper to ideas, which still carries with it a secret reference to
names. At least, if there be any other confusion of ideas, this
is that which most of all disorders men's thoughts and dis-
courses : ideas, as ranked under names, being those that for the
most part men reason of within themselves, and always those
which they commune about with others. And, therefore, where
there are supposed two different ideas, marked by two different
names, which are not as distinguishable as the sounds that
stand for them, there never fails to be confusion : and where
any ideas are distinct, as the ideas of those two sounds they
are marked by, there can be between them no confusion. The
way to prevent it, is to collect and unite into one complex idea,
as precisely as is possible, all those ingredients whereby it is
differenced from others ; and to them so united in a determinate
number and order, apply steadily the same name. But this
neither accommodating men's ease or vanity, or serving any
design but that of naked truth, which is not ahvays the thing
aimed at, such exactness is rather to be wished, than hoped for.
And since the loose application of names to undetermined,
variable, and almost no ideas, serves both to cover our own
ignorance, as well as to perplex and confound others, which
goes for learning and superiority in knowledge, it is no wonder
that most men should use it themselves, whilst they complain
of it in others. Though, I think, no small part of the confusion
to be found in the notions of men, might, by care and ingenuity,
be avoided ; yet I am far from concluding it every where wilful.
Some ideas are so complex, and made up of so many parts, that
the memory does not easily retain the very same precise combi-
nation of simple ideas, under one name ; much less are we able
constantly to divine for what precise complex idea such a name
stands in another man's use of it. From the first of these,
follows confusion in a man's own reasonings and opinions within
himself; from the latter, frequent confusion in discoursing and
arguing with others. But having more at large treated of words,
their defects and abuses, in the following book, I shall here
say no more of it.

§. 13. Complex ideas may he distinct in owe part, and con-
fused in another. — Our complex ideas being made up of col-
lections, and so variety of simple ones may accordingly be very
clear and distinct in one part, and very obscure and confused in

Ch. 29. OF CLEAR AND OBSCURE IDEAS. 301

another. In a man who speaks of a chilisBdron, or a body of a
thousand sides, the ideas of the figure may be very confused,
though that of the number be very distinct ; so that he being
able to discourse and demonstrate concerning that part of his
complex idea which depends upon the number of a thousand, he
is apt to think he has a distinct idea of a chiliaedron ; though it
be plain, he has no precise idea of its figure, so as to distinguish
it by that, from one that has but nine hundred and ninety-nine
sides. The not observing whereof, causes no small error in men's
thoughts, and confusion in their discourses.

§. 14. Tliis, if not heeded, causes confusion in our arguings. —
He that thinks he has a distinct idea of the figure of a chiliaedron,
let him, for trial's sake, take another parcel of the same uniform
matter, viz., gold or wax, of an equal bulk, and make it
into a figure of nine hundred and ninety-nine sides : he will, I
doubt *not, be able to distinguish these two ideas, one from
another, by the number of sides; and reason and argue distinctly
about them, whilst he keeps his thoughts and reasoning to that
part only of these ideas, which is contained in their numbers ;
as that the sides of the one could be divided into two equal
numbers ; and of the others, not, &c. But when he goes about
to distinguish them by their figure, he will there be presently at
a loss, and not be able, I think, to frame in his mind two ideas,
one of them distinct from the other, by the bare figure of these
two pieces of gold; as he could, if the same parcels of gold were
made one into a cube, the other a figure of five sides. In which
incomplete ideas, we are very apt to impose on ourselves, and
wrangle with others, especially where they have particular and
familiar names. For being satisfied in that part of the idea,
which we have clear ; and the name which is familiar to us,
being applied to the whole, containing that part also which is
imperfect and obscure, we are apt to use it for that confused part,
and draw deductions from it in the obscure part of its signifi-
cation, as confidently as we do from the other.

§. 15. Instance in eternity. — Having frequently in our mouths
the name eternity, we are apt to think we have a positive
comprehensive idea of it, which is as much as to say, that there
is no part of that duration which is not clearly contained in our
idea. It is true, that he that thinks so, may have a clear idea
of duration ; he may also have a very clear idea of a very
great length of duration ; he may also have a clear idea
of the comparison of that great one, with still a greater : but it
not being possible for him to include in his idea of any duration,
let it be as great as it will, the whole extent together of a
duration, where he supposes no end, that part of his idea, which

302 OF CLEAR AND OBSCURE IDEAS. Book2.

is still beyond the bounds of that large duration he represents
to his own thoughts, is very obscure and undetermined. And
hence it is, that in disputes and reasonings concerning eternity,
or any other infinity, we are apt to blunder, and involve
ourselves in manifest absurdities.

§. 16. DivisibiUty of matter. — In matter, we have no clear
ideas of the smallness of parts, much beyond the smallest that
occur to any of our senses ; and, therefore, when we talk of the
divisibility of matter in infuiituin, though we have clear ideas of
division and divisibility, and have also clear ideas of parts made
outof a whole by division; yet we have but very obscure and con-
fused ideas of corpuscles, or minute bodies so to be divided, when
by former divisions they are reduced to a smallness much exceeding
the perception of any of our senses ; and so all that we have
clear and distinct ideas of, is of what division in general or
abstractly is, and the relation of totum and parts : but of the
bulk of the body, to be thus infinitely divided after certain
progressions, I think we have no clear nor distinct idea at all.
For I ask any one, whether taking the smallest atom of dust he
ever saw, he has any distinct idea (bating still the number
which concerns not extension) betwixt the 100,000th, and the
1,000,000th part of it. Or if he thinks he can refine his ideas to
that degree, without losing sight of them, let him add ten
cyphers to each of those numbers. Such a degree of smallness
is not unreasonable to be supposed, since a division carried on
so far, brings it no nearer the end of infinite division, than the
first division into two halves, does. I must confess, for my part,
I have no clear distinct ideas of the different bulk or extension
of those bodies, having but a very obscure one of either of
them. So that, I think, when we talk of division of bodies
in infinitum, our idea of their distinct bulks, which is the
subject and foimdation of division, comes, after a little pro-
gression, to be confounded, and almost lost in obscurity. For
that idea, which is to represent only bigness, must be very
obscure and confused, which we cannot distinguish from one
ten times as big, but only by number ; so that we have clear
distinct ideas, we may say, of ten and one, but no distinct ideas
of two such extensions. It is plain from hence, that when we
talk of infinite divisibility of body, or extension, our distinct
and clear ideas are only of numbers : but the clear distinct
ideas of extension, after some progress of division, are quite lost;
and of such minute parts, we have no distinct ideas at all; but
it returns, as all our ideas of infinite do, at last to that of number
always to be added ; but thereby never amounts to any distinct
idea of actual infinite parts. We have, it is true, a clear idea

CA. 29. OF CLEAR AND OBSCURE IDEAS. 3o3

of division, as often as we will think of it; but thereby we have
no more a clear idea of infinite parts in matter, than we have a
clear idea of an infinite number, by being able still to add new
numbers to any assigned number we have : endless divisibility
giving us no more a clear and distinct idea of actually infinite
parts, than endless addibility (if I may so speak) gives us a
clear and distinct idea of an actually infinite number. They
both being only in a power still of increasing the number, be
it already as great as it will. So that of what remains to be
added (wherein consists the infinity), w^e have but an obscure,
imperfect, and confused idea; from or about which we can argue
or reason with no certainty or clearness, no more than we can
in arithmetic, about a number of which we have no such distinct
idea, as we have of four or one hundred : but only this relative
obscure one, that compared to any other, it is still bigger: and
we have no more a clear positive idea of it, when we say or
conceive it is bigger, or more than 400,000,000, than if we
should say, it is bigger than forty, or four ; 400,000,000 having
no nearer a proportion to the end of addition, or number, than
four. For he that adds only four to four, and so proceeds, shall
as soon come to the end of all addition, as he that adds
400,000,000, to 400,000,000 ; and so likewise in eternity, he that
has an idea of but four years, has as much a positive complete
idea of eternity, as he that has one of 400,000,000 of years : for
what remains of eternity beyond either of these two numbers of
years, is as clear to the one as the other ; i. e. neither of them
has any clear positive idea of it at all. For he that adds only
four years to four, and so on, shall as soon reach eternity, as
he that adds 400,000,000 of years, and so on ; or if he please,
doubles the increase as often as he wall ; the remaining abyss
being still as far beyond the end of all these progressions, as it
is from the length of a day, or an hour. For nothing finite bears
any proportion to infinite ; and therefore our ideas, which are
all finite, cannot bear any. Thus it is also in our idea of
extension, when we increase it by addition, as well as when we
diminish it by division, and would enlarge our thoughts to
infinite space. After a few doublings of those ideas of
extension, which are the lai-gest we are accustomed to have, we
lose the clear distinct idea of that space : it becomes a con-
fusedly great one, with a surplus of still greater ; about which,
when we would argue or reason, we shall always find ourselves
at a loss ; confused ideas, in our arguings and deductions from
that part of them which is confused, always leading us into
confusion.

304 OF REAL AND FANTASTICAL IDEAS. Bookl.

CHAPTER XXX.

OF REAL AND FANTASTICAL IDEAS.

§. 1. Real ideas are conformaMe to their archetypes. — Besides
what we have already mentioned concerning ideas, other consi-
derations belong to them, in reference to things from whence
they are taken, or which they may be supposed to represent ;
and thus, I think, they may come under a threefold distinction ;
and are, 1, Either real or fantastical. 2, Adequate or inade-
quate. 3, True or false.

First, By real ideas, I mean such as have a foundation in
nature ; such as have a conformity with the real being and
existence of things, or with their archetypes. Fantastical or
chimerical, I call such as have no foundation in nature, nor
have any conformity with that reality of being to which they
are tacitly referred as their archetypes. If we examine the
several sorts of ideas before mentioned, we shall find, that,

§• 2. Simple ideas all real. — First, Our simple ideas are all
real, all agree to the reality of things. Not that they are all of
them the images, or representations, of what does exist, the
contrary whereof, in all but the primary qualities of bodies, hath
been already shown. But though whiteness and coldness are
no more in snow, than pain is; yet those ideas of whiteness and
coldness, pain, he, being in us the eifects of powers in things
without us, ordained by our Maker, to produce in us such
sensations ; they are real ideas in us, whereby we distinguish
the qualities that are really in things themselves. For these
several appearances being designed to be the marks whereby we
are to know and distinguish things which we have to do with,
our ideas do as well serve us to that purpose, and are as real
distinguishing characters, whether they be only constant effects,
or else exact resemblances, of something in the things them-
selves ; the reality lying in that steady correspondence they
have with the distinct constitutions of real beings. But
whether they answer to those constitutions, as to causes or
patterns, it matters not ; it suffices that they are constantly pro-
duced by them. And thus our simple ideas are all real and true,
because they answer and agree to those powers of things which
produce them in our minds, that being all that is requisite to
make them real, and not fictions at pleasure. For in simple
ideas (as has been shown), the mind is wholly confined to the
operation of things upon it, and can make to itself no simple
idea, more than what it has received.

C7«. 30. OF REAL AND FANTASTICAL IDKAS. 306

§. 3. Complex ideas are voluntary conihinalions . — Though the
mind be wholly passive, in respect of" its sim])le ideas ; yet 1
think we may say it is not so, in respect of its complex ideas;
for those being combinations of simple ideas put together, and
united under one general name, it is plain that the mind of man
uses some kind of liberty in forming those complex ideas ; how
else comes it to pass, that one man's idea of gold, or justice, is
different from another's ? but because he has put in, or left out
of his, some simple idea which the other has not. The question
then is, which of these are real, and which barely imaginary
combinations ? What collections agree to the reality of things,
and what not? And to this, I say, that,

§. 4. Mixed modes, made of consistent ideas, are real. —
Secondly, Mixed modes and relations, having no other reality
but what they have in the minds of men, there is nothing more
required to this kind of ideas, to make them real, but that they
be so framed, that there be a possibility of existing conformable
to them. These ideas being themselves archetypes, cannot
differ from their archetypes, and so cannot be chimerical, unless
any one will jumble together in them inconsistent ideas. In-
deed, as any of them have the names of a known language as-
signed to them, by which he that has them in his mind, would sig-
nify them to others, so bare possibility of existing is not enough ;
they must have a conformity to the ordinary signification of the
name that is given them, that they may not be thought fantas-
tical ; as if a man would give the name of justice to that idea,
which common use calls liberality. But this fantasticalness
relates more to propriety of speech, than reality of ideas ; for a
man to be undisturbed in danger, sedately to consider what is
fittest to be done, and to execute it steadily, is a mixed mode,
or a complex idea of an action which may exist. But to be
undisturbed in danger, without using one's reason or industry, is
what is also possible to be ; and so is as real an idea as the other.
Though the first of these having the name courage given to it,
may, in respect of that name, be a right or wrong idea ; but the
other, whilst it has not a common received name of any known
language assigned to it, is not capable of any deformity, being
made with no reference to any thing but itself.

§. 5. Ideas of substances are real, when they agree with the
existence of things. — Thirdly, Our complex ideas of substances
being made, all of them, in reference to things existing without
us, and intended to be representations of substances, as they
really are, are no farther real, than as they are such combinations
of simple ideas, as are really united, and co-exist in things
without us. On the contrary those are fantastical, which are

X

HOG ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS. Book 2.

made up of such collections of simple ideas as were really
never united, never were found together in any substance ; v. g.
a rational creature, consisting of a horse's head, joined to a body
of human shape, or such as the centaurs are described : or, a body
yellow, very malleable, fusible, and fixed ; but lighter than
common water : or, an uniform unorganized body, consisting,
as to sense, all of similar parts, with perception and voluntary
motion joined to it. Whether such substances as these can
possibly exist, or no, it is probable we do not know : but be
that as it will, these ideas of substances being made conform-
able to no pattern existing, that we know, and consisting of
such collections of ideas as no substance ever showed us united
together, they ought to pass with us for barely imaginary ; but
much more are those complex ideas so, which contain in them
any inconsistency or contradiction of their parts.

CHAPTER XXXI.

OF ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS.

§. 1. Adequate ideas are such as perfectly represent their
archetypes. — Of our real ideas, some are adequate, and some are
inadequate. Those I call adequate, which perfectly represent
those archetypes which the mind supposes them taken from :
which it intends them to stand for, and to which it refers them.
Inadequate ideas are such, which are but a partial or incomplete
representation of those archetypes to which they are referred.
Upon which account it is plain,

§. 2. Simple ideas all adequate. — First, That all our simple
ideas are adequate ; because, being nothing but the effects of
certain powers in things, fitted and ordained by God, to produce
such sensations in us, they cannot but be correspondent and
adequate to those powers ; and we are sure they agree to the
reality of things. For if sugar produce in us the ideas which
we call whiteness, and sweetness, we are sure there is a power
in sugar to produce those ideas in our minds, or else they could
not have been produced by it. And so each sensation answering
the power that operates on any of our senses, the idea so pro-
duced, is a real idea (and not a fiction of the mind, which has
no power to produce any simple idea); and cannot but be
adequate, since it ought only to answer that power ; and so all
simple ideas are adequate. It is true, the things producing in
us these simple ideas, are but few of them denominated by us,
as if they were only the causes of them ; but as if those ideas

C/t. 31. ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS. 307

were real beings in them. For though fire be called painful to
the touch, whereby is signified the power of producing in us
the idea of pain : yet it is denominated also light and heat ; as if
light and heat were really something in the fire, more than a
poM'er to excite these ideas in us ; and, therefore, are called
qualities in, or of, the fire. But these being nothing, in truth,
but powers to excite such ideas in us, I must, in that sense,
be understood when I speak of secondary qualities, as being
in things; or of their ideas, as being the objects that excite
them in us. Such ways of speaking, though accommodated to the
vulgar notions, without which one cannot be well understood,
yet truly signify nothing but those powers which are in things,
to excite certain sensations or ideas in us. Since were there
no fit organs to receive the impressions fire makes on the sight
and touch ; nor a mind joined to those organs to receive the
ideas of light and heat, by those impressions from the fire or
sun, there would yet be no more light or heat in the world,
than there would be pain, if there were no sensible creature to
feel it, though the sun should continue just as it is now, and
Mount Etna flame higher than ever it did. Solidity and exten-
sion, and the termination of it, figure, with motion and rest,
whereof we have the ideas, would be really in the world as they
are, whether there were any sensible being to perceive them, or
no ; and, therefore, we have reason to look on those as the real
modifications of matter, and such are the exciting causes
of all our various sensations from bodies. But this being an
enquiry not belonging to this place, I shall enter no farther
into it, but proceed to show what complex ideas are adequate,
and what not.

§. 3. Modes are all adequate. — Secondly, Our complex ideas
of modes, being voluntary collections of simple ideas, which
the mind puts together, without reference to any real archetypes,
or standing patterns, existing any where, are, and cannot but
be, adequate ideas ; because they not being intended for copies
of things really existing, but for archetypes made by the mind,
to rank and denominate things by, cannot want any thing ; they
having, each of them, that combination of ideas, and thereby
that perfection which the mind intended tliey should ; so that
the mind acquiesces in them, and can find nothing wanting.
Thus, by having the idea of a figure, with three sides, meeting
at three angles, I have a complete idea, wherein I require nothing
else to make it perfect. That the mind is satisfied with the
perfection of this, its idea, is plain in that it does not conceive
that any understanding hath, or can have, a more complete or
perfect idea of that thing it signifies by the word triangle, sup-

X 2

308 ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS. Bo>k^l.

posing it to exist, than itself has in that complex idea of three
sides, and three angles ; in which is contained all that is, or can
be, essential to it, or necessary to complete it, wherever or how-
ever it exists. But in our ideas of substances, it is otherwise.
For their desiring to copy things, as they really do exist, and to
represent to ourselves that constitution, on which all their pro-
perties depend, we perceive our ideas attain not that perfection
we intend : we find they still want something we should be glad
were in them ; and so are all inadequate. But mixed modes,
and relations, being archetypes without patterns, and so having
nothing to represent but themselves, cannot but be adequate,
every thing being so to itself. He that at first put together the
idea of danger perceived, absence or disorder from fear, sedate
consideration of what was justly to be done, and executing
that without disturbance, or being deterred by the danger of it,
liad certainly in his mind that complex idea made up of that
combination; and intending it to be nothing else but what it is,
nor to have in it any other simple ideas but what it hath, it
could not also but be an adequate idea ; and laying this up in
his memory, with the name courage annexed to it, to signify it
to others, and denominate from thence any action he should
observe to ajiree with it, had, thereby, a standard to measure
and denominate actions by, as they agreed to it. This idea thus
made, and laid up for a pattern, must necessarily be adequate,
being referred to nothing else but itself, nor made by any other
original, but the good-liking and will of him that first made this
combination.

^. 4. Modes in reference to settled names, may he inadequate.
— Indeed, another coming after, and, in conversation, learning
from him the word courage, may make an idea, to which he gives
the name courage, different from what the first author applied
it to, and has in his mind, when he uses it. And in this case,
if he designs that his idea in thinkinor should be conformable
to the other's idea, as the name he uses in speaking is con-
formable in sounds to his, from whom he learned it, his idea may
be very wrong and inadequate ; because, in this case, making
the other man's idea, the pattern of his idea in thinking, as the
other man's word, or sound, is the pattern of his in speaking,
his idea is so far defective and inadequate, as it is distant from
the archetype and pattern he refers it to, and intends to express
and signify by the name he uses for it ; which name he would
have to be a sign of the other man's idea (to which, in its
proper use, it is primarily annexed), and of his own, as agreeing
to it ; to which, if his own does not exactly correspond, it is
faulty and inadequate.

CA. 31. ADEQUATE AND INAUKQUATIi IDEAS. 30tt

§. 5. Therefore these complex ideas of modes, when they are
referred by the mim], and intended to correspond to the ideas in
the mind of some other intelligent being, expressed by the names
we apply to them, they may be very deficient, wrong, and in-
adequate ; because they agree not to that which the mind designs
to be their archetype and ])attern ; in which respect only, any
idea of modes can be wrong, imperfect, or inadequate. And on
this account, our ideas of mixed modes are the most liable to
be faulty of any other; but this refers more to proper speaking,
than knowing right.

§. 6. Ideas of substances, as referred to real essences, not
adequate.— Thirdhj, What ideas we have of substances, I have
above shown ; now, those ideas have in the mind a double
reference: 1, Sometimes they are referred to a supposed real
essence of each species of things. 2, Sometimes they are only
designed to be pictures and representations in the mind of things
that do exist by ideas of those qualities that are discoverable
in them. In both which ways, these copies of those originals
and archetypes, are imperfect and inadequate.

First, It is usual for men to make the names of substances
stand for things, as supposed to have certain real essences,
whereby they are of this or that species ; and names standing
for nothing but the ideas thatare in men's minds, theymust con-
sequently refer their ideas to such real essences, as to then-
archetypes. That men (especially such as have been bred up
in the learning taught in this part of the world) do suppose
certain specific essences of substances, which each individual,
in its several kinds, is made conformable to, and partakes ot, is
so far from needing proof, that it will be thought strange if any
one should do otherwise. And thus they ordinarily apply the
specific name they rank particular substances under, to things,
as distinguished by such specific real essences. Who is there
almost, who would not take it amiss, if it should be doubted,
whether he called himself a man, with any other meaning than as
having the real essence of a man ? And yet if you demand,
what those real essences are, it is plain men are ignorant, and
know them not. From whence it follows, that the ideas they
have in their minds, being referred to real essences, as to arche-
types which are unknown, must be so far from being adequate, that
they cannot be supposed to be any representation^of them at all.
The complex ideas we have of substances, are, as it has been
shown, certain collections of simple ideas that have been ob-
served or supposed constantly to exist together. But such a
complex idea cannot be the real essence of any [^substance j^for
then the properties we discover in that body, would depend on

X 3

310 ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS. Bookl.

that complex idea, and be deducible from it, and their necessary
connexion with it be known ; as all properties of a triangle
depend on, and as far as they are discoverable, are deducible
from, the complex idea of tliree lines, including a space. But
it is plain, that in our complex ideas of substances, are not con-
tained such ideas, on which all the other qualities, that are to
be found in them, do depend. The common idea men have of
iron, is a body of a certain colour, weight, and hardness ; and a
property that they look on as belonging to it, is malleableness.
But yet this property has no necessary connexion with that
complex idea, or any part of it; and there is no more reason to
think, that malleableness depends on that colour, weight,
and hardness, than that that colour, or that weight, depends on
its malleableness. And yet, though we know nothing of these
real essences, there is nothing more ordinary, than that men
should attribute the sorts of things to such essences. The par-
ticular parcel of matter, which makes the ring I have on my
finger, is forwardly, by most men, supposed to have a real
essence, whereby it is gold; and from whence those qualities
flow, which I find in it, viz., its peculiar colour, weight, hardness,
fusibility, fixedness, and change of colour upon a slight touch of
mercury. Sec. This essence, from which all these properties flow,
when I enquire into it, and search after it, I plainly perceive I
cannot discover ; the farthest I can go, is only to presume, that
it being nothing but body, its real essence, or internal consti-
tution, on which these qualities depend, can be nothing but the
figure, size, and connexion of its solid parts ; of neither of
which, having any distinct perception at all, \ can have no idea
of its essence, which is the cause that it has that particular
shining yellowness, a greater weight than any thing I know of
the same bulk, and a fitness to have its colour changed by the
touch of quicksilver. If any one will say, that the real essence,
and internal constitution, on which these properties depend, is
not the figure, size, and arrangement or connexion of its solid
parts, but something else, called its particular form ; I am farther
from having any idea of its real essence, than I was before ; for
I have an idea of figure, size, and situation of solid parts in
general, though I have none of the particular figure, size, or
putting together of parts, whereby the qualities above-mentioned
are produced ; which qualities I find in that particular parcel of
matter that is on my finger, and not in another parcel of
matter with which I cut the pen I write with. But when I am
told, that something besides the figure, size, and posture of the
solid parts of that body, is its essence, something called sub-
stantial form ; of that, I confess, I have no idea at all, but only
of the sound form ; which is far enoutih from an idea of its real

CA. 31. ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS. 311

essence, or constitution. The like ignorance as I have of the
real essence of this particular substance, I have also of the real
essence of all other natural ones ; of which essences, I confess
I have no distinct ideas at all ; and I am apt to suppose others,
when they examine their own knowledge, will find in themselves,
in this one point, the same sort of ignorance.

§. 7. Now then, when men apply this particular parcel of
matter on my finger, a general name already in use, and deno-
minated gold, do they not ordinarily, or are they not understood
to, give it that name as belonging to a particular species of
bodies, having a real internal essence ; by having of v.'hich es-
sence, this particular substance comes to be of that species, and
to be called by that name ? If it be so, as it is plain it is, the
name by which things are marked, as having that essence, must
be referred primarily to that essence ; and consequently the idea
to which that name is given, must be referred also to that essence,
and be intended to represent it. Which essence, since they,
who so use the names, know not their ideas of substances, must
be all inadequate in that respect, as not containing in them that
real essence which the mind intends they should.

§. 8. Ideas of substances, as collections of their qualities, are
all inadequate. — Secondly, Those who neglecting that useless
supposition of unknown real essences, whereby they are dis-
tinguished, endeavour to copy the substances that exist in the
world, by putting together the ideas of those sensible qualities
which are found co-existing in them, though they come much
nearer a likeness of them, than those who imagine they know
not what real specific essences ; yet they arrive not at perfectly
adequate ideas of those substances they would thus copy into
their minds ; nor do those copies exactly and fully contain all
that is to be found in their archetypes. Because those qualities,
and powers of substance, whereof we make their complex ideas,
are so many and various, that no man's complex idea contains
them all. That our abstract ideas of substances, do not contain
in them all the simple ideas that are united in the things them-
selves, it is evident, in that men do rarely put into their complex
idea of any substance, all the simple idea they do know to
exist in it. Becauseendeavouring tomake the signification of their
names as clear, and as little cumbersome, as they can, they make
their specific ideas of the sorts of substances, for the most part,
of a few of those simple ideas which are to be foimd in them :
but these having no original precedency, or right to be put in.
and make the specific idea more than others that are left out, it
is plain, that both these ways, our ideas of substances are de-
ficient and inadequate. The simple ideas whereof we make our

x 4

312 ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS. Book'l.

complex ones of substances, are all of them (bating only the fi-
gure and bulk of some sorts) powers, which being relations to
other substances, we can never be sure that we know all the
powers that are in any one body, till we have tried what changes
it is fitted to give to, or receive from, other substances, in their
several ways of application : which being impossible to be tried
upon any one body, much less upon all, it is impossible we
should have adequate ideas of any substance made up of a col-
lection of all its properties.

§. 9. Whosoever first lighted on a parcel of that sort of sub-
stance we denote by the word gold, could not rationally take
the bulk and figure he observed in that lump, to depend on its
real essence or internal constitution. Therefore those never
went into his idea of that species of body ; but its peculiar co-
lour, perhaps, and weight, were the first he abstracted from it,
to make the complex idea of that species. Which both are but
powers ; the one to affect our eyes after such a manner, and to
produce in us that idea we call yellow ; and the other, to force up-
wards any other body of equal bulk, they being put into a pair
of equal scales, one against another. Another, perhaps, added
to these, the ideas of fusibility and fixedness, two other passive
powers, in relation to the operation of fire upon it ; another, its
ductility and solubility in aqua regia; two other powers, relat-
ing to the operation of other bodies, in changing its outward
figure or separation of it into insensible parts. These, or part of
these, put together, usually make the complex idea in men's
minds, of that sort of body we call gold.

§. 10. But no one, who hath considered the properties of
bodies in general, or this sort in particular, can doubt, that this
called gold, has infinite other properties, not contained in that
complex idea. Some, who have examined this species more ac-
curately, could, I believe, enumerate ten times as many proper-
ties in gold, all of them as inseparable from its internal consti-
tution, as its colour, or weight ; and, it is probable, if any one
knew all the properties that are by divers men known of this
metal, there would be an hundred times as many ideas go to the
complex idea of gold, as any one man yet has in his ; and yet,
perhaps, that not be the thousandth part of what is to be disco-
vered in it. The changes which that one body is apt to receive, and
make in other bodies, upon due application, exceeding far, not
only what we know, but what we are apt to imagine. Which will
not appear so much a paradox, to any one who will but con-
sider how far men are yet from knowing all the properties of that
one, no very compound figure, a triangle, though it be no small
number that are already by mathematicians discovered of it.

C%;3U ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS. 313

§.'11. Ideas of substances, as collections of their qualities, are
all inadequate. — So that all our complex ideas of substances, are
imperfect and inadequate. Which would be so also in mathe-
matical fi<^ures, if we were to have our complex ideas of them only
by collecting- their properties in reference to other figures. How
uncertain and imperfect would our ideas be of an ellipsis, if we
had no other idea of it, but some few of its properties .' Whereas
having in our plain idea, the whole essence of that figure, we
from thence discover those properties, and demonstratively see
how they flow, and are inseparable from it.

§. 12. Simple ideas, salvTra, and adequate. — This in the mind
has three sorts of abstract ideas, or nominal essences :

First, Simple ideas, which are e'/lvTU, or copies ; but yet cer-
tainly adequate. Because being intended to express nothing but the
powerin things to produce in the mind such a sensation, that sensa-
tion, when it is produced, cannot but be the effect of that power.
So the paper I write on, having the power, in the light (I speak
according to the common notion of light), to produce in men the
sensation which I call white, it cannot but be the effect of such
a power in something without the mind ; since the mind has not
the power to produce any idea in itself, and being meant for
nothing else but the effect of such a power, that simple idea is
real and adequate ; the sensation of white, in my mind, being
the effect of that power, which is in the paper to produce it, it is
perfectly adequate to that power ; or else, that power wotild
produce a different idea.

§. 13. Ideas of substances are e-ZlvT^cc, inadequate. — Secondly,
The complex ideas of substances, are ectypes, copies too ;
but not perfect ones, not adequate : which is very evident to the
mind, in that it plainly perceives, that whatever collection of
simple ideas it makes of any substance that exists, it cannot be
sure, that it exactly answers all that are in that substance : since
not having tried all the operations of all other substances upon
it, and found all the alterations it would receive from, or cause
in, other substances, it cannot have an exact adequate collection
of all its active and passive capacities ; and so not have an ade-
quate complex idea of the powers of any substance existing,
and its relations, which is that sort of complex idea of substances
we have. And, after all, if we would have, and actually had, in
our complex idea, an exact collection of all the secondary quali-
ties or powers of any substance, we should not yet thereby have
an idea of the essence of that thing. For since the powers or
qualities, that are observable by us, are not the real essence of
that substance, but depend on it, and flow from it, any collec-
tion whatsoever of these qualities, cannot be the real essence

314 OF TRUE AND FALSE IDEAS. Book2.

of that thing. Whereby it is plain, that our ideas of substances
are not adequate ; are not what the mind intends them to be. Be-
sides, a man has no idea of substance in general, nor knows what
substance is in itself.

§. 14. Ideas of modes and relations, are ardietyi^es, and
cannot but he adequate. — Thirdly, Complex ideas of modes and
relations, are originals and archetypes; are not copies, nor made
after the pattern of any real existence, towhich the mind intends
them to be conformable, and exactly to answer. These being such
collections of simple ideas, that the mind itself puts together,
and such collections, that each of them contains in it precisely
all that the mind intends that it should, they are archetypes and
essences of modes that may exist; and so are designed only
for, and belong only to, such modes, as when they do exist, have
an exact conformity with those complex ideas. The ideas
therefore of modes and relations, cannot but be adequate.

CHAPTER XXXII.

OF TRUE AND FALSE IDEAS.

^. 1. Truth and falsehood properly helong to j)ropositions. —
Though truth and falsehood belong, in propriety of speech, only
to propositions ; yet ideas are oftentimes termed true or false
(as what words are there that are not used with great latitude, and
with some deviation from their strict and proper significations?).
Though, I think, that when ideas themselves are termed true or
false, there is still some secret or tacit proposition, which is the
foundation of that denomination : as we shall see, if we examine
the particular occasions wherein they come to be called true or
false. In all which, we shall find some kind of affirmation, or
negation, which is the reason of that denomination. For our
ideas being nothing but bare appearances or perceptions in our
minds, cannot properly and simply in themselves be said to be
true or false, no more than a single name of any thing can be
said to be true or false.

§. 2. Metaphysical truth contains a tacit proposition.^^
Indeed, both ideas and words may be said to be true in a
metaphysical sense of the word truth, as all other things, that
any way exist, are said to be true ; i. e. really to be such as
they exist. Though in things called true, even in that sense,
there is, perhaps, a secret reference to our ideas, looked upon
as the standards of that truth, which amounts to a mental
proposition, though it be usually not taken notice of.

§.3. No idea, as an appearance in the mind, true or false. —

Ck.3'1. OF TRUE AND FALSE IDEAS. 315

But it is not in that metaphysical sense of truth which we enquire
here, when we examine whether our ideas are capable of being true
or false ; but in the more ordinary acceptation of those words : and
so I say, that the ideas in our minds, being only so many percep-
tions, or appearances there, none of them are false. The idea of a
centaur liaving no more falsehood in it, when it appears in our
minds, than the name centaur has falsehood in it, when it is pro-
nounced by our mouths, or written on paper. For truth or false-
hood lying always in some affirmation or negation, mental or verbal,
our ideas are not capable, any of them, of being false, till the
mind passes some judgment on them; that is, affirms or denies
something of them.

§. 4. Ideas, referred to any thing, may be true or false.—
Whenever the blind refers any of its ideas to any thing extra-
neous to them, they are then capable to be called true or false.
Because the mind in such a reference, makes a tacit supposition
of their conformity to that thing: which supposition, as it
happens to be true or false ; so the ideas themselves come to be
denominated. The most usual cases wherein this happens, are
these following :

§. 5. Other men's ideas, real existence, and supposed real
essences, are what men usually refer their ideas to. — First, When
the mind supposes any idea it has in itself, to be conformable to
that in other men's minds, called by the same common name ; v.g.
when the mind intends or judges its ideas of justice, temperance,
religion, to be the same with what other men give those names to.

Secondly, When the mind supposes any idea it has in itself, to
be conformable to some real existence. Thus the two ideas of
a man and- a centaur, supposed to be the ideas of real sub-
stances, are the one true, and the other false ; the one having a
conformity to what has really existed, the other not. '■■ '

Thirdly, When the mind refers any of its ideas to that real
constitution and essence of aiiy thing, whereon all its properties
depend : and thus the greatest part, if not all our ideas of
substances, are false.

§. 6. The cause of such references. — These suppositions the
mind is very apt tacitly to make concerning its own ideas : but
yet, if we will examine it, we shall find it is chiefly, if not
only, concerning its abstract complex ideas. For the natural
tendency of the mind being towards knowledge ; and finding
that, if it should proceed by, and dwell upon, only particular
things, its progress would be very slow, and its work endless:
therefore, to shorten its way to knowledge, and make each
perception the more comprehensive, the first thing it does, as
the foundation of the easier enlarging its knowledge, either by

81(5 OF TRUE AND FALSE IDEAS. Book±

contemplation of the things themselves that it would know, or
conference with others about them, is to bind them into bundles,
and rank them so into sorts, that what knowledge it gets of any
of them, it may thereby with assurance extend to all of that
sort ; and so advance by larger steps in that, which is its great
- business, knowledge. This, as I have elsewhere shown, is the
reason why we collect things under comprehensive ideas, with
names annexed to them, into genera and species, i. e. into
kinds and sorts.

§. 7. If, therefore, we will warily attend to the motions of
the mind, and observe what course it usually takes in its way to
knowledge, we shall, I think, find, that the mind having got an
idea, which it thinks it may have use of, either in contemplation
or discourse, the first thing it does, is to abstract it, and then
get a name to it ; and so lay it up in its store-house, the memory,
as containing the essence of a sort of things, of which that
name is always to be the mark. Hence it is, that we may often
observe, that when any one sees a new thing of a kind that he
knows not, he presently asks what it is, meaning by that
enquiry, nothing but the name. As if the name carried with
it the knowledge of thi species, or the essence of it, whereof
it is indeed used as the mark, and is generally supposed
annexed to it.

§. 8. The cause of such references. — But this abstract idea
being something in the mind between the thing that exists, and
the name that is given to it ; it is in our ideas, that both the
Tightness of our knowledge, and the propriety or intelligibleness
of our speaking, consists. And hence it is, that men are so
forward to suppose that the abstract ideas they have in their
minds, are such as agree to the things existing without them, to
w^hich they are refered ; and are the same, also, to which the
names they give them, do, by the use and propriety of that
language, belong. For without this double conformity of their
ideas, they find they should both think amiss of things in
themselves, and talk of them unintelligibly to others.

§. 9. Simple ideas may he false, in reference to others of the
satne name, hut are least liahle to he so. — First, Then, I say,
that when the truth of our ideas is judged of by the conformity
they have to the ideas which other men have, and commonly
signify by the same name, they may be any of them false. But
yet simple ideas are least of all liable to be so mistaken :
because a man by his senses, and every day's observation, may
easily satisfy himself what the simple ideas are, which their
several names that are in common use stand for, they being but
few in number, and such, as if he doubts or mistakes in, he m.ay

CA. 32. OF TRUE AND FALSE IDEAS. 317

easily rectify by the objects they are to be found in. Therefore
it is seldom that any one mistakes in his names of simple ideas ;
or applies the name red, to the idea of green ; or the name
sweet, to the idea bitter : much less are men apt to confound
the names of ideas belonging to different senses ; and call a
colour by the name of a taste, &c., whereby it is evident, that
the simple ideas they call by any name, are commonly the same
that others have and mean, when they use the same names.

§. 10. Ideas of mixed modes most liable to he false in this
sense. — Complex ideas are much more liable to be false in this
respect ; and the complex ideas of miied modes, much more
than those of substances : because in substances (especially
those which the coinmon and unborrowed names of any
language are applied to), some remarkable sensible qualities,
serving ordinarily to distinguish one sort from another, easily
preserve those, who take any care in the use of their words,
from applying them to sorts of substances to which they do not
at all belong. But in mixed modes, we are much more
uncertain, it being not so easy to determine of several actions,
whether they are to be called justice or cruelty; liberality or
prodigality. And so in referring our ideas to those of other
men, called by the same names, ours may be false ; and the idea
in our minds, which we express by th word, justice, may,
perhaps, be that which ought to have another name.

§. 11. Or at least to he thought false. — But whether or no
our ideas of mixed modes are more liable than any sort, to be
different from those of other men, which are marked by the
same names : this at least is certain, that this sort of falsehood
is much more familiarly attributed to our ideas of mixed modes,
than to any other. When a man is thought to have a false idea
of justice, or gratitude, or glory, it is for no other reason, but
that his agrees not with the ideas which each of those names
are the signs of in other men.

§. 12. And why. — The reason whereof seems to me to be
this, that the abstract ideas of mixed modes, being men's
voluntary combinations of such a precise collection of simple
ideas ; and so the essence of each species being made by men
alone, whereof we have no other sensible standard existing
any where, but the name itself, or th^ defaiition of that name :
we have nothing else to refer these our ideas of mixed modes to,
as a standard to which we would toaform them, but the ideas af
those who are thought to use those names in their most proper
significations ; and so, as our ideas confonai, or differ from them,
they pass for true or false. And thus much concerning the
truth and falsehood of our ideas in reference to their names.

8ie OF TRUE AND FALSE IDEAS. Book 2.

§. 13. As referred to real existences, none of our ideas can he
false, hut those of suhstances. — Secondly, As to the truth and
falsehood of our ideas, in reference to the real existence of
things, when that is made the standard of their truth, none of
them can be termed false, but only complex ideas of substances.

§. 14. First, simple ideas in this sense not false, and why. —
First, Our simple ideas being barely such perceptions as God
has fitted us to receive, and given power to external objects to
produce in us by established laws and ways, suitable to his
wisdom and goodness, though incomprehensible to us, their
truth consists in nothing else but in such appearances as are
produced in us, and must be suitable to those powers he has
placed in external objects, or else they could not be produced
in us : and thus answering those powers, they are what they
should be, true ideas. Nor do they become liable to any impu-
tation of falsehood, if the mind (as in most men I believe it
does) judges these ideas to be in the things themselves. For
God, in his wisdom, having set them as marks of distinction in
things, whereby we may be able to discern one thing from
another, and so choose any of them for our uses, as we have
occasion, it alters not the nature of our simple idea, whether we
think, that the idea of blue be in the violet itself, or in our
mind only; and only the power of producing it by the texture of
its parts, reflecting the particles of light, after a certain manner,
to be in the violet itself. For that texture in the object, by a
regular and constant operation, producing the same idea of blue
in us, it serves us to distinguish, by our eyes, that from any
other thing, whether that distinguishing mark, as it is really in
the violet, be only a peculiar texture of parts, or else that very
colour, the idea whereof (which is in us) is the exact resem-
blance. And it is equally from that appearance to be denomi-
nated blue, whether it be that real colour, or only a peculiar
texture in it, that causes in us that idea: since the name blue
notes properly nothing but that mark of distinction that is in a
violet, discernible only by our eyes, whatever it consists in,
that being beyond our capacities distinctly to know, and,
perhaps, would be of less use to us, if we had faculties to
discern.

§. 15. Though one mail's idea ofilue shoidd he different from
another s. — Neither Avould it carry any imputation of falsehood
to our simple ideas, if by the different structure of our organs,
it were so ordered, that the same object should produce in
several men's minds different ideas at the same time ; v. g. if the
idea that a violet produced in one man's mind by his eyes, were
the same that a marigold produced in another man's, and vice

Ch. 32. OF TRUE AND FALSE IDEAS. 319

versa. For since this could never be known, because one man's
mind could not pass into another man's body, to perceive what
appearances were produced by those organs ; neither the ideas
hereby, nor the names, would be at all confounded, or any
falsehood be in either. For all things that had the texture of a
violet, producing constantly the idea that he called blue; and
those which had the texture of a marigold, producing constantly
the idea which he has constantly called yellow, whatsoever those
appearances were in his mind, he would be able as regularly to
distinguish things for his use by those appearances, and under-
stand and signify those distinctions, marked by the names blue
and yellow, as if the appearances, or ideas, in his mind, received
from those two flowers, were exactly the same with the ideas in
other men's minds. I am nevertheless very apt to think, that
the sensible ideas produced by any object in different men's
minds, are most commonly very near and undiscernibly alike.
For which opinion, I think, there might be many reasons
offered : but that being besides my present business, I shall not
trouble my reader with them; but only mind him, that the
contrary supposition, if it could be proved, is of little use, either
for the improvement of our knowledge, or convenience of life ;
and so we need not trouble ourselves to examine it.

§. 16. First, simple ideas in this sense not false, and why. —
From what has been said concerning our simple ideas, I think it
evident, that our simple ideas can none of them be false, in
respect of things existing without us. For the truth of these
appearances, or perceptions in our minds, consisting, as has
been said, only in their being answerable to the powers in
external objects, to produce by our senses such appearances in
us, and each of them being in the mind, such as it is suitable to
the power that produced it, and v/hich alone it represents, it
cannot, upon that account, or as refferred to such a pattern, be
false. Blue or yellow, bitter or sweet, can never be false ideas;
these perceptions in the mind are just such as they are there,
answering the powers appointed by God to produce them ; and
so are truly what they are, and are intended to be. Indeed the
names may be misapplied ; but that in this respect, makes no
falsehood in the ideas : as if a man ignorant in the English
tongue, should call purple, scarlet.

§. 17. Secondly, niodes not false. — iSeconf/Zy, Neither can our
complex ideas of modes, in refLrcnce to the essence of any
thing really existing, be false. Because whatever complex
idea I have of any mode, it hath no reference to any pattern
existing, and made by nature ; it is not supposed to con-
tain in it any other ideas than what it hath ; nor to represent

Sao OF TRUE AND FALSE IDEAS. Book'2.

any thing, but such a complication of ideas as it does. Thus,
when I have the idea of such an action of a man, who forbears
to afford himself such meat, drink, and clothing, and other
necessaries of life, as his riches and estate will be sufficient to
supply, and his station requires, I have no false idea ; but such
an one as represents an action, either as I find or imagine it;
and so is capable of neither truth or falsehood. But when I give
the name of frugality, or virtue, to this action, then it may be
called a false idea, if thereby it be supposed to agree with that
idea, to which, in propriety of speech, the name of frugality
doth belong ; or to be conformable to that law, which is the
standard of virtue and vice.

§. 18. Thirdly, ideas of suhstancss when false . — Thirdly, Our
complex ideas of substances, being all referred to patterns in things
themselves, may be false. That they are all false, when looked
upon as the representations of the unknown essences of things,
is so evident, that there needs nothing to be said of it. I shall,
therefore, pass over that chimerical supposition, and consider
them as collections of simple ideas in the mind, taken from
combinations of simple ideas existing together constantly in
things, of which patterns they are the supposed copies : and in
this reference of them, to the existence of things, they are false
ideas. 1, When they put together simple ideas, which in the
real existence of things have no union ; as when to the shape
and size that exist together in a horse, is joined in the same
complex idea, the power of barking like a dog : which three
ideas, however put together into one in the mind, were never
united in nature ; and this, therefore, may be called a false idea
of a horse. 2, Ideas of substances are, in this respect, also
false, when from any collection of simple ideas that do always
exist together, there is separated, by a direct negation, any other
simple idea which is constantly joined with them. Thus, if to ex-
tension, solidity, fusibility, the peculiar weightiness, and yellow
colour of gold, any one join in his thoughts the negation of
a greater degree of fixedness than is in lead or copper, he may
be said to have a false complex idea; as well as when he joins to
those other simple ones, the idea of a perfect absolute fixedness.
For either way, the complex idea of gold being made up of such
simple ones as have no union in nature, may be termed false.
But if we leave out of this his complex idea, that of fixedness,
quite, without either actually joining to, or separating of it from,
the rest in his mind, it is, I think, to be looked on as an inade-
quate and imperfect idea, rather than a false one ; since though
it contains not all the simple ideas that are united in nature, yet
it puts none together but what do really exist together.

CL32. OF TRUE AND FALSI: IDi^AS. 321

§. 19. Truth and falsehood always supposes aJJirmatUm o-r
negation. — Though in compliance with the ordinary way of
speaking, I have shown in what sense, and uj^on what ground,
our ideas may be sometimes called true, or false ; yet, if we will
look a little nearer into the matter in all cases, where any idea
is called true, or false, it is from some judgment that the mind
makes, or is supposed to make, that is true or false. For truth
or falsehood, being never without some affirmation or negation,
express or tacit, it is not to be found, but where signs are joined
or separated, according to the agreement or disagreement of
the things they stand for. The signs we chiefly use, are either
ideas, or words, wherewith we make either mental or verbal pro-
positions. Truth lies in so joining or separating these repre-
sentatives, as the things they stand for do in themselves agree
or disagree; and falsehood in the contrary, as shall be more fully
shown hereafter.

§. 20. Ideas in themselves neither true nor false. — Any idea then
which we have in our minds, whether conformable or not to the ex-
istence of things, or to any idea in the minds of other men, cannot
properly for this alone be called false. For these representations,
if they have nothing in them but what is really existing in things
without, cannot be thought false, being exact representations of
something : nor yet, if they have any thing in them, differing
from the reality of things, can they properly be said to be false
representations, or ideas, of things they do not represent. But
the mistake and falsehood is,

§. 21. But are false, first, when judged agreeable to another
vians idea without being so. — First, When the mind having any
idea, it judges and concludes it the same that is in other men's
minds, signified by the same name ; or that it is conformable to
the ordinary received signification or definition of that word,
when indeed it is not : which is the most usual mistake in
mixed modes, though other ideas also are liable to it.

§. 22. Secondly, when judged to agree to real existence, lohen
they do not. — Secondly, When it having a complex idea made
up of such a collection of simple ones, as nature never puts
together, it judges it to agree to a species of creatures really
existing; as when it joins the weight of tin to the colour,
fusibility, and fixedness of gold.

§. 23. Thirdly, when judged adequate without being so. —
Thirdly, When in its complex idea, it has united a certain num-
ber of simple ideas, that do really exist together in some sort
of creatures, but has also left out others, as much inseparable,
it judges this to be a perfect complete idea of a sort of things
which really it is not; v. g. having joined the idea of sub-

Y

322 ^ OF TRUE AND FALSE IDEAS. Book^.

stance, yellow, malleable, most heavy, and fusible, it takes that
complex idea to be the complete idea of gold, when yet its
peculiar fixedness and solubility in aqua regia, are as inseparable
from those other ideas or qualities of that body, as they are one
from another.

§. 24. Fourthly, when judged to represent the real essence. —
Fourthly, The mistake is yet greater, when I judge, that this
complex idea contains in it the real essence of any body exist-
ing- ; when at least it contains but some few of those properties
which flow from its real essence and constitution, I say, only
some few of those properties ; for those properties consisting
mostly in the active and passive powers it has, in reference to
other things, all that are vulgarly known of any one body, and
of which the complex idea of that kind of things is usually
made, are but a very few, in comparison of what a man, that has
several ways tried and examined it, knows of that one sort of
things ; and all that the most expert man knows, are but a few,
in comparison of what are really in that body, and depend on
its internal or essential constitution. The essence of a triangle,
lies in a very little compass, consists in a very few ideas ; three
lines including a space, make up that essence : but the pro-
perties that flow from this essence, are more than can be easily
known, or enumerated. So I imagine it is in substances, their
real essences lie in a little compass ; though the properties
flowing from that internal constitution, are endless.

§. 25. Ideas, when false. — To conclude, a man having no
notion of any thing without him, but by the idea he has of it in
his mind (which idea he has a power to call by what name he
pleases), he may, indeed, make an idea neither answering the
reality of things, nor agreeing to the ideas commonly signified
by other people's words ; but cannot make a wrong or false idea
of a thing, which is no otherwise known to him, but by the idea
he has of it: v. g. when I frame an idea of the legs, arms, and
body of a man, and join to this a horse's head and neck, I do
not make a false idea of any thing ; because it represents no-
thing without me. But when I call it a man, or Tartar, and
imagine it to represent some real being without me, or to be the
same idea that others call by the same name ; in either of these
cases, I may err. And upon this account it is, that it comes to
be termed a false idea ; though, indeed, the falsehood lies not in
the idea, but in that tacit mental proposition, wherein a con-
formity and resemblance is attributed to it, which it has not.
But yet, if having framed such an idea in my mind, without
thinking either that existence, or the name of man or Tartar,
belongs to it, ! will call it a man or Tartar, I may be justly thought

Ch. 33. OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 323

fantastical in the naming ; but not erroneous in my judgment ;
nor the idea any way false.

§. 26. More properly lo he called right or wrong. — Upon the
whole matter, I think, that our ideas, as they are considered by
the mind, either in reference to the proper signification of their
names, or in reference to the reality of things, may very fitly be
called right or wrong ideas, according as they agree or disagree
to those patterns to which they are referred. But if any one
had rather call them true or false, it is fit he use a liberty, which
every one has, to call things by those names he thinks best ;
though in propriety of speech, truth or falsehood, will, I think,
scarce agree to them, but as they, some way or other, virtually
contain in them some mental proposition. The ideas that are
in a man's mind,* simply considered, cannot be wrong, unless
complex ones, wherein inconsistent parts are jumbled together.
All our ideas are in themselves right ; and the knowledge about
them, right and true knowledge : but when we come to refer
them to any thing, as to their patterns and archetypes, then
they are capable of being wrong, as far as they disagree with
such archetypes.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS.

§. 1. Something unreasonable in most men. — There is scarce
any one that does not observe something that seems odd to
him, and is in itself really extravagant in the opinions, reason-
ings, and actions of other men. The least flaw of this kind, if
at all different from his own, every one is quick-sighted enough
to espy in another, and will, by the authority of reason, forwardly
condemn, though he be guilty of much greater unreasonable-
ness in his own tenets and conduct, which he never perceives,
and will very hardly, if at all, be convinced of.

§. 2. Not wholly from self-love. — This proceeds not wholly
from self-love, though that has often a great hand in it. Men
of fair minds, and not given up to the overweening of self-
flattery, are frequently guilty of it ; and in many cases one with
amazement hears the arguings, and is astonished at the ob-
stinacy, of a worthy man, who yields not to the evidence of
reason, though laid before him as clear as daylight.

§. 3. Not from education. — This sort of unreasonableness is
usually imputed to education and prejudice, and for the most
part truly enough, though that reaches not to the bottom of the

Y 2

324 OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. Book^.

disease, nor shows distinctly enough whence it rises, or wherein
it lies. Education is often rightly assigned for the cause, and
prejudice is a good general name for the thing itself: but yet,
I think, he ought to look a little farther, who would trace this
sort of madness to the root it springs from, and so explain it, as
to show whence this flaw has its original in very sober and
rational minds, and wherein it consists.

§. 4. A degree of madness . — I shall be pardoned for calling it by
so harsh a name as madness, when it is considered, that opposi-
tion to reason deserves that name, and is really madness ; and
there is scarce a man so free from it, but that, if he should
always, on all occasions, argue or do as in some cases he con-
stantly does, would not be thought fitter for Bedlam, than civil
conversation. I do not hear mean when he is under the power
of an unruly passion, but in the steady calm course of his life.
That which will yet more apologize for this harsh name, and
ungrateful imputation on the greatest part of mankind, is, that
enquiring a little by-the-by into the nature of madness, b. 2,
c. 11, §. 13, I found it to spring from the very same root, and to
depend on the very same cause, we are here speaking of. This
consideration of the thing itself, at a time when I thought not
the least on the subject which I am now treating of, suggested
it to me. And, if this be a weakness to which all men are so
liable ; if this be a taint which so universally infects mankind,
the greater care should be taken to lay it open under its due
name, thereby to excite the greater care in its prevention and
cure.

§. 5. From a wrong connexion of ideas. — Some of our ideas
have a natural correspondence and connexion one with another :
it is the office and excellency of our reason to trace these, and
hold them together in that union and correspondence which is
founded in their peculiar beings. Besides this, there is another
connexion of ideas wholly owing to chance or custom ; ideas
that in themselves are not at all of kin, come to be so united
in some men's minds, that it is very hard to separate them; they
always keep in company, and the one no sooner at any time
comes into the understanding, but its associate appears with
it ; and if they are more than two, which are thus united, the
whole gang, always inseparable, show themselves together.

§. 6. This connexion how made. — This strong combination
of ideas, not allayed by nature, the mind makes in itself either
voluntarily, or by chance ; and hence it comes in diflerent men
to be very different, according to their different inclinations,
education, interests, &c. Custom settles habits of thinking in
the understanding, as well as of determining in the will, and of

Ch. 33. OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 325

motions in the body ; all which seem to be but trains of motion
in the animal spirits, which once set agoing-, continue in the
same steps they have been used to, which by often treading, are
worn into a smooth path, and the motion in it becomes easy,
and, as it were, natural. As far as we can comprehend thinking,
thus ideas seem to be produced in our minds ; or if they are
not, this may serve to explain their following one another in an .
habitual train, when once they are put into their tract, as well
as it does to explain such motions of the body. A musician
used to any tune, will find, that let it but once begin in his
head, the ideas of the several notes of it will follow one another
orderly in his understanding, without any care or attention, as
regularly as his fingers move orderly over the keys of the organ
to play out the tune he has begun, though his unattentive
thoughts be elsewhere a wandering. Whether the natural cause
of these ideas, as well as of that regular dancing of his fingers,
be the motion of his animal spirits, I will not determine, how
probable soever by this instance it appears to be,^so but this
may help us a little to conceive of intellectual habits, and of
the tying together of ideas.

§. 7. Some antipathies an effect of it. — That there are such
associations of them made by custom in the minds of most men,
I think nobody will question, who has well considered himself
or others ; and to this, perhaps, might be justly atttributed most
of the sympathies and antipathies observable in men, which
work as strongly, and produce as regular effects, as if they were
natural, and are, therefore, called so, though ^they, at first, had
no other original, but the accidental connexion of two ideas,
which either the strength of the first impression, or future
indulgence, so united, that they always afterwards keep company
together in that man's mind, as if they were but one idea. I
say, most of the antipathies, I do'ndt say all, for some of them
are truly natural, depend upon our original constitution, and are
born with us ; but a great part of those which are counted
natural, would have been known to be from unheeded, though,
perhaps, early, impressions, or wanton fancies at first, which
would have been acknowledged the original of them, if they
had been warily observed. A grown person surfeiting with
honey, no sooner hears the name of it, but his fancy imme-
diately carries sickness and qualms to his stomach, and he
cannot bear tiie very idea of it; other ideas of dislike, and
sickness, and vomiting, presently accompany it, and he is dis-
turbed, but he knows from whence to date this weakness, and
can tell how he got this indisposition ; had this happened ta
him by an over dose of honey, when a child, all the same eifects

Y 3

32{> OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. Book'2.

would have followed, but the cause would have been mistaken,
and the antipathy counted natural.

§. 8. I mention this, not out of any great necessity there is
in this present argument, to distinguish nicely between natural
and acquired antipathies, but I take notice of it for another
purpose, viz., that those who have children, or the charge of
their education, would think it worth their while, diligently to
watch, and carefully to prevent, the undue connexion of ideas in
the minds of young people. This is the time most susceptible
of lasting impressions ; and though those relating to the health
of the body, are, by discreet people, minded and fenced against ;
yet I am apt to doubt, that those which relate more peculiarly
to the mind, and terminate in the understanding, or passions,
have been much less heeded than the thing deserves ; nay, those
relating purely to the understanding, have, as I suspect, been,
by most men, wholly overlooked.

§. 9. A great cause of errors. — This wrong connexion in
our minds' of ideas, in themselves loose and independent one
of another, has such an influence, and is of so great force to
set us awry in our actions, as well moral as natural passions,
reasonings, and notions themselves ; that, perhaps, there is not
any one thing that deserves more to be looked after.

§. 10. Instances. — The ideas of goblins and sprights, have
really no more to do with darkness than light ; yet let
but a foolish maid inculcate these often on the mind of
a child, and raise them there together, possibly he shall never
be able to separate them again so long as he lives ; but darkness
shall ever afterwards bring with it those frightful ideas, and
they shall be so joined, that he can no more bear the one than
the other.

§.11. A man receives a sensible injury from another, thinks
on the man and that action' over and over, and by ruminating on
them strongly, or much in his mind, so cements those two ideas
together, that he makes them almost one ; never thinks on the
man, but the pain and displeasure he suffered, comes into his
mind with it, so that he scarce distinguishes them, but has as
much an aversion for the one as the other. Thus hatreds are
often begotten from sli-ght and innocent occasions, and quarrels
propagated and continued in the world.

§. 12. A man has suffered pain or sickness in any place ; he
saw his friend die in such a room ; though these have in nature
nothing to do with one another, yet when the idea of the place
occurs to his mind, it brings (the impression being once made)
that of the pain and displeasure with it, he confounds them in his
mind, and can as little bear the one as the other.

§. 13. Why time cures some disorders in the mind, ivJiich

Ch. 33. OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 327

reason cannot. — When this combination is settled, and whilst it
lasts, it is not in the power of reason to help us, and relieve us
from the effects of it. Ideas in our minds, when they are there,
will operate according to their natures and circumstances ; and
here we sefe the cause why time cures certain affections, which
reason, though in the right, and allowed to be so, has not power
over, nor is able against them to prevail with those who are apt
to hearken to it in other cases. The death of a child, that was
the daily delight of his mother's eyes, and joy of her soul, rends
from her heart the whole comfort of her life, and gives her all
the torment imaginable : use the consolations of reason in this
case, and you were as good preach ease to one on the rack, and
hope to allay, by rational discourses, the pain of his joints tear-
ing asunder : till time has by disuse separated the sense of that
enjoyment, and its loss from the idea of the child returning to
her memory, all representations, though ever so reasonable, are
in vain ; and therefore some, in whom the union between these
ideas is never dissolved, spend their lives in mourning, and carry
an incurable sorrow to their graves.

§. 14. Farther instances of the effect of the association of ideas .
— A friend of mine knew one perfectly cured of madness by a
very harsh and offensive operation. The gentleman, who was
thus recovered, w^th great sense of gratitude and acknowledg-
ment, owned the cure all his life after, as the greatest obligation
he could have received ; but whatever gratitude and reason sug-
gested to him, he could never bear the sight of the operator :
that image brought back with it the idea of that agony which he
suffered from his hands, which was too mighty and intolerable
for him to endure.

§, 15. Many children imputing the pain they endured at
school to the books they were corrected for, so join those ideas
together, that a book becomes their aversion, and they are never
reconciled to the study and use of them all their lives after ; and
thus reading becomes a torment to them, which otherwise pos-
sibly they might have made the great pleasure of their lives.
There are rooms convenient enough, that some men cannot study
in ; and fashions of vessels, which though ever so clean and
commodious, they cannot drink out of, and that by reason of
some accidental ideas which are annexed to them, and make
them offensive ; and wOio is there that hath not observed some
man to flag at the appearance, or in the company, of some certain
person not otherwise superior to him, but because having once
on some occasion got the ascendant, the idea of authority and
distance goes along with that of the person, and he that has been
thus subjected, is not able to separate them.

Y 4

3-28 OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. Book 2,

§. 16. Instances of this kind are so plentiful every where,
that if I add one more, it is only for the pleasant oddness of it.
It is of a young gentleman, who having learned to dance, and that
to great perfection, there happened to stand an old trunk in the
room where he learned. The idea of this remarkable piece of
household stuff, had so mixed itself with the turns and steps of
all his dances, that though in that chamber he could dance ex-
cellently well, yet it was only whilst that trunk was there, nor
could he perform well in any other place, unless that, or some
such other, trunk, had its due position in the room. If this story
shall be suspected to be dressed up with some comical circum-
stances, a little beyond precise nature ; I answer for myself, that
I had it some years since from a very sober and worthy man,
upon his own knowledge, as I report it; and I dare say, there
are very few inquisitive persons, who read this, who have not met
with accounts, if not examples, of this nature, that may parallel,
or at least justify, this.

^. 17. Its influence on intellectual habits. — Intellectual habits
and defects this way contracted, are not less frequent and
powerful, though less observed. Let the ideas of being and
matter, be strongly joined either by education or much thought,
whilst these are still combined in the mind, what notions, what
reasonino-s, will there be about separate spirits ? let custom, from
the very childhood, have joined figure and shape to the idea of
God, and what absurdities will that mind be liable to, about the
Deity?

Let the idea of infallibility be inseparably joined to any
person, and these two constantly together possess the mind,
and then one body, in two places at once, shall unexamined be
swallowed for a certain truth, by an implicit faith, whenever
that imao-ined infallible person dictates and demands assent
without enquiry.

§. 18. Ohservdble indifferent sects. — Some such wrong and
unnatural combinations of ideas, will be found to establish
the irreconcilable opposition between different sects of philo-
sophy and religion ; for we cannot imagine every one of their
followers to impose wilfully on himself, and knowingly refuse
truth offered by plain reason. Interest, though it does a great
deal in the case, yet cannot be thought to work whole societies
of men to so universal a perverseness, as that every one of them,
to a man, should knowingly maintain falsehood : some at least
must be allowed to do what all pretend to, i. e. to pursue truth
sincerely ; and therefore there must be something that blinds
their understandings, and makes them not see the falsehood of
what thev embrace for real trulii. That which thus captivates

Ck. 33. OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 329

their reasons, and leads men of sincerity blindfold from common
sense, will, when examined, be found to be what we are speaking
of: some independent ideas, of no alliance to one another, are,
by education, custom, and the constant din of their party, so
coupled in their minds, that they always appear there together,
and they can no more separate them in their thoughts, than if
they were but one idea, and they operate as if they were so.
This gives sense to jargon, demonstration to absurdities, and con-
sistency to nonsense, and is the foundation of the greatest, I had
almost said, of all the, errors in the world ; or if it does not reach
so far, it is at least the most dangerous one, since so far as it
obtains, it hinders men from seeing and examining. When two
things in themselves disjoined, appear to the sight constantly
united ; if the eye sees these things riveted, which are loose,
where will you begin to rectify the mistakes that follow in two
ideas, that they have been accustomed so to join in their minds,
as to substitute one for the other, and, as I am apt to think,
often without perceiving ifc themselves? This, whilst they are
under the deceit of it, makes them incapable of conviction,
and they applaud themselves as zealous champions for truth,
when indeed they are contending for error ; and the confusion
of two different ideas, which a customary connexion of them
in their minds hath to them made in effect but one, fills their
heads with false views, and their reasonings with false con-
sequences.

§. 19. Conclusion. — Having thus given an account of the
original, sorts, and extent of our ideas, with several other consi-
derations, about these (I know not whether I may say) instru-
ments, or materials, of our knowledge ; the method I at first
proposed to myself, would now require, that I should im-
mediately proceed to show, what use the understanding makes
of them, and what knowdedge we have by them. This was that,
which, in the first general view I had of this subject, was all
that I thought I should have to do: but upon a nearer approach,
I find, that there is so close a connexion between ideas and
words ; and our abstract ideas, and general words, have so
constant a relation one to another, that it is impossible to speak
clearly and distinctly of our knowledge, which all consists in
propositions, without considering, first, the nature, use, and
signification of language ; which therefore must be the business
of the next book.

030 WORDS OR LANGUAGE IN GENERAL. Booh 3.

BOOK III. CHAPTER I.

OF WORDS OR LANGUAGE IN GENERAL.

§. 1. Man Jitiecl to form articulate sounds. — God having
designed man for a sociable creature, made him not only with
an inclination, and under a necessity, to have fellowship with
those of his own kind, but furnished him also with language,
which was to be the great instrument, and common tie, of
society. Man, therefore, had by nature his organs so fashioned,
as to be fit to frame articulate sounds, which we call words. But
this was not enough to produce language : for parrots, and several
other birds, will be taught to make articulate sounds distinct
enough, which yet, by no means, are capable of language.

§. 2. To make them signs of ideas. — Besides articulate
sounds, therefore, it was farther necessary, that he should be
able to use these sounds as signs of internal conceptions ; and to
make them stand as marks for the ideas within his own mind,
whereby they might be made known to others, and the thoughts
of men's minds be conveyed from one to another.

§. 3. To make general signs. — But neither was this sufficient
to make words so useful as they ought to be. It is not enough
for the perfection of language, that sounds can be made signs
of ideas, unless those signs can be so made use of, as to com-
prehend several particular things ; for the multiplication of
words would have perplexed their use, had every particular
thing need of a distinct name to be signified by. To remedy
this inconvenience, language had yet a farther improvement
in the use of general terms, whereby one word Vv'as made to
mark a multitude of particular existences ; which advantageous
use of sounds was obtained only by the difference of the ideas
they were made signs of: those names becoming general, which
are made to stand for general ideas; and those remaining parti-
cular, where the ideas they are used for are particular.

§. 4. Besides these names which stand for ideas, there be
other words v/hich men make use of, not to signify any idea,
but the want or absence of some ideas, simple or complex, or
ideas together : such as are nihil in Latin, and in English,
ignorance and barrenness. All which negative or privitive words,
cannot be said properly to belong to, or signify no, ideas ; for
then they would be perfectly insignificant sounds ; but they
relate to positive ideas, and signify their absence.

§. 5. Words ultimately derived from such as signify sensible

Ch. 1. WORDS OR LANGUAGE IN GENERAL. 831

ideas. — It may also lead us a little toward the original of all our
notions and knowledge, if we remark, how great a dependance
our words have on common sensible ideas ; and how those,
which are made use of to stand for actions and notions quite
removed from sense, have their rise from thence, and, from
obvious sensible ideas, are transferred to more abstruse sisrii-
fications, and made to stand for ideas that come not under the
cognizance of our senses : v. g., to imagine, apprehend, compre-
hend, adhere, conceive, instil, disgust, disturbance, tranquillity,
Sec, are all words taken from the operations of sensible things,
and applied to certain modes of thinking. Spirit, in its primary
signification, is breath ; angel, a messenger : and I doubt not,
but if we could trace them to their sources, we should find, in
all languages, the names which stand for things that fall not
under our senses, to have had their first rise from sensible ideas.
By which we may give some kind of guess, what kind of notions
they were, and whence derived, which filled their minds, who
were the first beginners of languages ; and how nature, even in
the naming of things, unawares suggested to men the originals
and principles of all their knowledge ; whilst, to give names,
that might make known to others any operations they felt in
themselves, or any other ideas that come not under their senses,
they were fain to borrow words from ordinary known ideas of
sensation, by that means to make others the more easily to con-
ceive those operations they experimented in themselves, which
made no outward sensible appearances : and then, when they
had got known and agreed names, to signify those internal ope-
rations of their own minds, they were sufficiently furnished to
make known by words, all their other ideas ; since they could
consist of nothing, but either of outward sensible perceptions,
or of the inward operations of their minds about them ; we
having, as has been proved, no ideas at all, but what originally
came either from sensible objects without, or what we feel
within ourselves, from the inward workings of our own spirits,
of which we are conscious to ourselves within.

§. 6. Distribution. — But to understand better the use and
force of language, as subservient to instruction and knowledge,
it will be convenient to consider.

First, To what it is that names, in the use of language, are
immediately applied.

Secondly, Since all (except proper) names are general, and so
stand not particularly for this or that single thing, but for sorts
and ranks of things, it will be necessary to consider, in the next
place, what the sorts and kinds, or, if you rather like the Latin
names, what the species and genera, of things are ; w herein they

332 THE SIGNIFICATION OF WORDS. Book 3.

consist ; and how they come to be made. These being (as they
ought) well looked into, we shall the better come to find
the right use of words ; the natural advantages and defects of
language; and the remedies that ought to be used, to avoid the
inconveniences of obscurity or uncertainty in the signification
of words, without which, it is impossible to discourse with any
clearness, or order, concerning knowledge ; which being con-
versant about propositions, and those most commonly universal
ones, has greater connexion with words, than, perhaps, is
suspected

These considerations, therefore, shall be the matter of the
following chapters.

CHAPTER II.

OF THE SIGNIFICATION OF WORDS.

§. I. Words are sensible signs, necessary for communication. —
Man, though he has great variety of thoughts, and such, from
which others, as well as himself, might receive profit and
delight ; yet they are all within his own breast invisible, and
hidden from others, nor can of themselves be made appear; The
comfort and advantage of society, not being to be' had without
communication of thoughts, it was necessary, that man should
find out some external sensible signs, whereby those invisible
ideas, which his thoughts are made up of, might be made known
to others. For this purpose, nothing was so fit, either for
plenty, or quickness, as those articulate sounds, which, with so
much ease and variety, he found himself able to make. Thus
we may conceive how words, which were by nature so well
adapted to that purpose, come to be made use of by men, as the
signs of their ideas ; not by any natural connexion that there
is between particular articulate sounds and certain ideas, for
then there would be but one language amongst all men ; but by
a voluntary imposition, whereby such a w^ord is made arbitrarily
the mark of such an idea. The use then of words, is to be sen-
sible marks of ideas ; and the ideas they stand for, are their
proper and immediate signification.

§. 2. Words are the sensible signs of his ideas who uses them.
— The use men have of these marks, being either to record their
own thoughts for the assistance of their own memory; or, as it
were, to bring out their ideas, and lay them before the view of
others ; words in their primary or immediate signification, stand
for nothing, but the ideas in the mind of him that uses them.

CA. 2. THE SIGNIFICATION OF WORDS. 333

how imperfectly soever, or carelessly, those ideas are collected
from the things which they are supposed to represent. When
a man speaks to another, it is that he may be understood ; and
the end of speech is, that those sounds, as marks, may
make known his ideas to the hearer. That then which words
are the marks of, are the ideas of the speaker ; nor can any one
apply them as marks, immediately to any thing else, but the
ideas that he himself hath. For this would be to make them
signs of his own conceptions, and yet apply them to other ideas ;
which would be to make them signs, and not signs of his ideas
at the same time ; and so, in effect, to have no signification at all.
Words being voluntary signs, they cannot be voluntary signs
imposed by him on things he knows not. That would be to
make them signs of nothing, sounds without signification. A
man cannot make his words the signs either of qualities in things,
or of conceptions in the mind of another, whereof he has none
in his own. Until he has some ideas of his own, he cannot
suppose them to correspond with the conceptions of another
man ; nor can he use any signs for them ; for thus they would
be the signs of he knows not what, which is, in truth, to be the
signs of nothing. But when he represents to himself other
men's ideas, by some of his own, if he consent to give them the
same names that other men do, it is still to his own ideas ; to
ideas that he has, and not to ideas that he has not.

§. 3. This is so necessary in the use of language, that in this
respect, the knowing and the ignorant, the learned and unlearned,
use the words they speak (with any meaning) all alike. They, in
every man's mouth, stand for the ideas he has, and which he
would express by them. A child having taken notice of nothing
in the metal he hears called gold, but the bright shining yellow
colour, be applies the word gold only to his own idea of that
colour, and nothing else ; and therefore calls the same colour in
a peacock's tail, gold. Another that hath better observed, adds to
shining yellow, great weight ; and then the sound gold, when he
uses it, stands for a complex idea of a shining yellow and very
weighty substance. Another adds to those qualities, fusibility ;
and when the word gold signifies to him a body, bright, yellow,
fusible, and very heavy. Another adds malleability. Each of
these uses equally the word gold, when they have occasion
to express the idea which they have applied it to ; but it is
evident, that each can apply it only to his own idea ; nor can
he make it stand as a sign of such a complex idea as he has
not.

§. 4. Words often secretly referred first to the ideas in other
men's minds. — But though words, as they are used by men, can pro-

334 THE SIGNIFICATION OF WORDS. Book 3.

perly and immediately signify nothing but the ideas that are in
the mind of the speaker ; yet they, in their thoughts, give them a
secret reference to two other things.

First, They suppose their words to be marks of the ideas in
the minds also of other men, with whom they communicate ; for
else they should talk in vain, and could not be understood, if the
sounds they applied to one idea, were such as by the hearer
were applied to another, which is to speak two languages. . But
in this, men stand not usually to examine, whether the idea they,
and those they discourse with, have in their minds, be the
same ; but think it enough, that they use the word, as they
imagine, in" the common acceptation of that language ; in which
they suppose that the idea they make it a sign of, is precisely
the same to which the understanding men of that country apply
that name.

§. 6. Secondly, to the reality of things. — Secondly, Because men
would not be thought to talk barely of their own imaginations,
but of things as really they are ; therefore they often suppose
their words to stand also for the reality of things. But this
relating more particularly to substances, and their names, as per-
haps the former does to simple ideas and modes, we shall speak
of these two different ways of applying words more at large,
when we come to treat of the names of mixed modes, and sub-
stances, in particular ; though give me leave here to say, that it
is a perverting the use of words, and brings unavoidable ob-
scurity and confusion into their signification, whenever we make
them stand for any thing but those ideas we have in our own
minds.

§. 6. Words by use readily excite ideas. — Concerning words also,
it is farther to be considered : First, That they being immediately
the signs of men's ideas ; and, by that means, the instruments
whereby men communicate their conceptions, and express to
one another those thoughts and imaginations they have within
their own breasts ; there comes, by constant use, to be such a
connexion between certain sounds, and the ideas they stand for,
that the names heard, almost as readily excite certain ideas, as
if the objects themselves, which are apt to produce them, did
actually affect the senses. Which is manifestly so in all obvious
sensible qualities ; and in all substances that frequently and
familiarly occur to us.

§. 7. Words often used without signification. — Secondly, That
though the proper and immediate signification of words, are ideas
in the mind of the speaker ; yet because, by familiar use from
our cradles, we come to learn certain articulate sounds very per-
fectly, and have them readily on our tongues, and always at

Ch. 2. THE SIGNIFICATION OF WORDS. 335

hand in our memories ; but yet are not always careful to examine,
or settle their significations perfectly, it often happens that men,
even when they would apply themselves to an attentive con-
sideration, do set their thoughts more on words, than things.
Nay, because words are many of them learned before the ideas
are known for which they stand ; therefore sOme, not only chil-
dren, but men, speak several words, no otherwise than parrots
do, only because they have learned them, and have been accus-
tomed to those sounds. But so far as words are of use and
signification, so far is there a constant connexion between the
sound and the idea ; and a designation, that the one stands for
the other ; without which application of them, they are nothing
but so much insignificant noise,

§. 8. Their signification perfectly arbitrary. — Words by long and
familiar use, as has been said, come to excite in men certain
ideas, so constantly and readily, that they are apt to suppose a
natural connexion between them. But that they signify only
men's peculiar ideas, and that by a perfect arbitrary imposition,
is evident, in that they often fail to excite in others (even that
use the same language) the same ideas we take them to be the
signs of; and every man has so inviolable a liberty to make
words stand for what ideas he pleases, that no one hath the
power to make others have the same ideas in their minds, that
he has, when they use the same words that he does. And there-
fore the great Augustus himself, in the possession of that power
which ruled the world, acknowledged he could not make a new
Latin word ; which was as much as to say, that he could not
arbitrarily appoint what idea an}'^ sound should be a sign of, in
the mouths and common language of his subjects. It is true,
common use, by a tacit consent, appropriates certain sounds to
certain ideas in all languages, which so far limits the significa-
tion of that sound, that unless a man applies it to the same idea,
he does not speak properly ; and let me add, that unless a man's
words excite the same ideas in the hearer, which he makes them
stand for in speaking, he does not speak intelligibly. But what-
ever be the consequence of any man's using of words differently,
either from their general meaning, or the particular sense of the
person to whom he addresses them, this is certain, their signi-
fication, in his use of them, is limited to his ideas, and they can
be signs of nothing else.

336 GENERAL TERMS. Book 3.

CHAPTER III.

OF GENERAL TERMS.

§. 1. The greatest part of words general. — All thing's that exist
being particulars, it may perhaps be thought reasonable that
words, which ought to be conformed to things, should be so too,
I mean in their signification : but yet we find the quite con-
trary. The far greatest part of words, that make all languages,
are general terms ; which has not been the effect of neglect, or
chance, but of reason and necessity.

^. 2. For every particular thing to have a name, is impossible. —
First, It is impossible that every particular thing should have a
distinct peculiar name. For the signification and use of words,
depending on that connexion which the mind makes between its
ideas, and the sounds it uses as signs of them, it is necessary, in
the application of names to things, that the mind should have
distinct ideas of the things, and retain also the particular name
that belongs to every one, with its peculiar appropriation to
that idea. But it is beyond the power of human capacity to
frame and retain distinct ideas of all the particular things we
meet with ; every bird and beast men saw, every tree and
plant that affected the senses, could not find a place in the
most capacious understanding. If it be looked on as an
instance of a prodigious memory, that some generals have been
able to call every soldier in their army, by his proper name ; we
may easily find a reason why men have never attempted to give
names to each sheep in their flock, or crow that flies over their
heads ; much less to call every leaf of plants, or grain of sand,
that came in their way, by a peculiar name.

§. 3. And useless. — Secondly, If it were possible, it would yet
be viseless ; because it would not serve to the chief end of lan-
guage. Men would in vain heap up names of particular things,
that would not serve them to communicate their thoughts. Men
learn names, and use them in talk with others, only that they
may be understood ; which is then only done, when by use or
consent, the sound I make by the organs of speech, excites in
another man's mind, who hears it, the idea I apply it to in mine,
when I speak it. This cannot be done by names, applied to
particular things, whereof I alone having the ideas in my mind,
the names of them could not be significant or intelligible to
another, who was not acquainted with all those very particular
things, which had fallen under my notice.

§. 4, Thirdly, But yet granting this also feasible (which I

C%.3. GENERAL TERMS. 337

think is not), yet a distinct name for every particular thing
would not be of any great use for the improvement of know-
ledge : which, though founded in particular things, enlarges
itself by general views ; to which things, reduced into sorts
under general names, are properly subservient. These, with
the names belonging to them, come within some compass, and
do not multiply every moment, beyond what either the mind can
contain, or use requires. And, therefore, in these, men have
for the most part stopped ; but yet not so as to hinder them-
selves from distinguishing particular things by appropriated
names, where convenience demands it. And, therefore, in their
own species, which they have most to do with, and wherein
they have often Occasion to mention particular persons, they
make use of proper names ; and their distinct individuals have
distinct denominations.

§. 5. What things have proper names. — Besides persons, coun-
tries also, cities, rivers, mountains, and other the like distinc-
tions of place, have usually found peculiar names, and that for
the same reason ; they being such as men have often an occasion
to mark particularly, and, as it were, set before others in their
discourses with them. And I doubt not, but if we had reason
to mention particular horses, as often as we have to mention
particular men, we should have proper names for the one, as
familiar as for the other ; and Bucephalus would be a word as
much in use as Alexander. And, therefore, we see that amongst
jockeys, horses have their proper names to be known and dis-
tinguished by, as commonly as their servants : because amongst
them, there is often occasion to mention this or that particular
horse, when he is out of sight.

§. 6. How general words are made. — The next thing to be con-
sidered is, how general words come to be made. For since all
things that exist are only particulars, how come we by general
terms, or where find we those general natures they are supposed
to stand for ? Words become general, by being made the signs
of general ideas : and ideas become general, by separating from
them the circumstances of time, and place, and any other ideas
that hiay determine them to this or that particular existence.
By this way of abstraction, they are made capable of representing
more individuals than one ; each of which havinof in it a con-
formity to that abstract idea, is (as we call it) of that sort.

§. 7. But to deduce this a little more distinctly, it will not
perhaps be amiss to trace our notions and names, from their
beginning, and observe by what degrees we proceed, and by
what steps we enlarge our ideas from our first infancy. There
is nothing more evident, than that the ideas of the persons

z

338 GENERAL TERMS. Book S.

children converse with (to instance in them alone), are like the
persons themselves, only particular. The ideas of the nurse
and the mother, are well framed in their minds ; and, like
pictures of them there, represent only those individuals. The
names they first gave to them, are confined to these individuals ;
and the names of nurse and mamma, the child uses, determine
themselves to those persons. Afterwards, when time and a
larger acquaintance have made them observe, that there are a
great many other things in the world, that in some common
agreements of shape, and several other qualities, resemble their
father and mother, and those persons they have been used to,
they frame an idea, which they find those many particulars do
partake in ; and to that they give, with others, the name man
for example. And thus they come to have a general name, and
a general idea. Wherein they make nothing new, but only
leave out of the complex idea they had of Peter and James,
Mary and Jane, that which is peculiar to each, and retain only
what is common to them all.

§. 8. By the same way that they come by the general name
and idea of man, they easily advance to more general names and
notions. For observing, that several things that differ from
their idea of man, and cannot therefore be comprehended under
that name, have yet certain qualities, wherein they agree with
man, by retaining only those qualities, and uniting them into
one idea, they have again another and a more general idea ; to
which having given a name, they make a term of a more com-
prehensive extension : which new idea is made, not by any new
addition, but only, as before, by leaving out the shape, and
some other properties signified by the name man, and retaining
only a body, with life, sense, and spontaneous motion, com-
prehended under the name animal.

5). 9. General natures are nothing hut abstract ideas. — That
this is the way whereby men first formed general ideas, and
general names to them, I think, is so evident, that there needs
no other proof of it, but the considering of a man's self, or
others, and the ordinary proceedings of their minds in know-
ledge : and he that thinks general natures or notions, are any
thing else but such abstract and partial ideas of more complex
ones, taken at first from particular existences, will, I fear, be at
a loss where to find them. For let any one reflect, and then
tell me, wherein does his idea of man differ from that of Peter
and Paul ; or his idea of horse, from that of Bucephalus, but
in the leaving out something that is peculiar to each individual ;
and retaining so much of those particular complex ideas of
several particular existences, as they are found to agree in?

Ch.'i. GENERAL TEIIMS. 339

Of the complex ideas signified by the names man and horse,
leaving out but those paiticulars wherein they differ, and re-
taining only those wherein they agree, and of those making a
new distinct complex idea, and giving the name animal to it,
one has a more general term, that comprehends, with man,
several other creatures. Leave out of the idea of animal, sense
and spontaneous motion, and the remaining complex idea, made
up of the remaining simple ones of body, life, and nourishment,
becomes a more general one, under the more comprehensive
term, vivens. And not to dwell longer upon this particular, so
evident in itself, by the same way the mind proceeds to body,
substance, and at last to being, thing, and such universal terms
which stand for any of our ideas whatsoever. To conclude, this
whole mystery of genera and species, which make such a noise
in the schools, and are, with justice, so little regarded out of
them, is nothing else but abstract ideas, more or less com-
prehensive, with names annexed to them. In all which, this is
constant and unvariable, that every more general term stands
for such an idea, as is but a part of any of those contained
under it.

§. 10. Why " the genus" is ordinarily made use of in definitions. —
This may show us the reason, why in the defining of words,
which is nothing but declaring their significations, we make use
of the genus, or next general word that comprehends it. Which
is not out of necessity, but only to save the labour of enumerat-
ing the several simple ideas, which the next general word, or
genus, stands for ; or, perhaps, sometimes the shame of not
being able to do it. But though defining by genus and dif-
ferentia (I crave leave to use these terms of art, though ori-
ginally Latin, since they most properly suit those notions they
are applied to), I say, though defining by the genus be the
shortest way, yet I think it may be doubted, whether it be the
best. This I am sure, it is not the only, and so not absolutely
necessary. For definition being nothing but making another
understand by words, what idea the term defined stands for, a
definition is best made by enumerating those simple ideas that
are combined in the signification of the term defined : and if,
instead of such an enumeration, men have accustomed them-
selves to use the next general terra, it has not been out of
necessity, or for greater clearness ; but for quickness and dis-
patch sake. For, I think, that to one who desired to know
what idea the word man stood for; if it should be said, that
man was a solid extended substance, having life, sense, spon-
taneous motion, and the faculty of reasoning, I doubt not but
the meaning of the term man, would be as well understood, and

z2

340 GENERAL TERMS. Booh 3.

the idea it stands for, be at least as clearly made known, as
when it is defined to be a rational animal ; which, by the several
definitions of animal, vivens , and corpus, resolves itself into
those enumerated ideas. I have, in explaining the term man,
followed here the ordinary definition of the schools : which
though, perhaps, not the most exact, yet serves well enough to
my present purpose. And one may, in this instance, see what
gave occasion to the rule, that a definition must consist of genus
and differentia ; and it suffices to show us the little necessity
there is of such a rule, or advantage in the strict observing of
it. For definitions, as has been said, being only the explaining
of one word, by several others, so that the meaning or idea it
stands for, may certainly be known ; languages are not always
so made, according to the rules of logic, that every term can
have its signification exactly and clearly expressed by two others.
Experience sufficiently satisfies us to the contrary ; or else those
who have made this rule, have done ill that they have given us so
few definitions conformable to it. But of definitions, more in
the next chapter.

§. 11. General and universal, are creatures of the tmderstanding. I
— To return to general words, it is plain, by what has been said, ;
that general and universal, belong not to the real existence of
things ; but are the inventions and creatures of the under- :
standing, made by it for its own use, and concern only signs,
whether words or ideas. Words are general, as has been said, '
when used for signs of general ideas ; and so are applicable i
indifferently to many particular things ; and ideas are general,
when they are set up as the representatives of many particular j
things ; but universality belongs not to things themselves, !
which are all of them particular in their existence, even those '
words and ideas, which, in their signification, are general. When, '
therefore, we quit particulars, the generals that rest, are only \
creatures of our own making, their general nature being nothing /
but the capacity they are put into by the understanding, of ;
signifying or representing many particulars. For the signi- !
fication they have, is nothing but a relation that by the mind ]
of man is added to them.*

* Against this, tlie Bishop of Worcester objects, and our author (a) answers as followeth:
" ' However,' saith the bishop, ' the abstracted ideas are tlie work of the mind, yet they
are not mere creatures of the mind : as appears by an instance produced of the essence
of the sun being in one single individual ; in which case it is granted, That the idea may
be so abstracted, that more suns might agree in it, and it is as much a sort, as if there
were as many suns as there are stars. So that here we have a real essence subsisting in
one individual, but capable of being multiplied into more, and the same essence remaining.

(a) In his lirst letter.

Ch. 3. GENERAL TERMS. 341

i^. 12. Abstract ideas are the essences of the yencra and species.' —
The next thing, therefore, to be considered, is what kind of sig-
nification it is, that general words have. For, as it is evident.

But in this one sun, there is a real essence, and not a mere nominal or abstracted essence :
but suppose there were more suus, would not each of them have ihe real essence of the
sun ? For what is it makes the second sun, but having the same real essence with the
first ? If it were but a nominal essence, tlien the second would have nothing but the
name.'

" This, as I understand," replies Mr. Locke, " is to prove that tlie abstract general
essence of any sort of tilings, or things of the same denomination, v. g. of man or marigold,
liatli a real being out of the understanding ; whicli, I confess, 1 am not able to conceive.
Your lordship's proof here, brought out of my Essay, concerning tlie sun, I liumbly con-
ceive, will not reach it ; because what is said tliere, does not at all concern tlie real, but
nominal, essence, as is evident from hence, that the idea I speak of thtre, is a complex
idea ; but we have no complex idea of the internal constitution, or real essence, of the
sun. Besides, I say expressly. That our distinguishing substances into sjiecies, by names,
is not at all founded on their real essences. So that the sun being one of these substances,
I cannot, in the place quoted by your lordship, be supposed to mean by essence of the
sun, the real essence of the sun, unless I liad so expressed it. But all this argument will
be at an end, when your lordship shall have explained wliat you mean by these words,
' true sun.' In my sense of them, any thing will be a true sun, to wliich the name sun
may be truly and properly apjdied ; and to that substance or tiling the name sun may be
truly and properly applied, which has united in it that combination of sensible qualities,
by which any tiling else, that is called sun, is distinguished from other substances, i. e. by
the nominal essence ; and thus our sun is denominated and distinguished from a fixed star,
not by a real essence that we do not know (for if we did, it is jiossible we should find
the real essence or constitution of one of tlie fixed stars to be tlie same with that of our
sun), but by a complex idea of sensible qualities co-existing, wliich, wherever they are
found, make a true sun. And thus 1 crave leave to answer your lordship's question :
' For what is it makes tlie second sun to be a true sun, but iiaving the same real essence
with the first : If it were but a nominal essence, then the second would have nothing
but the name.'

" I humbly conceive, if it had the nominal essence, it would have something besides
the name, viz.. That nominal essence, which is sufficient to denominate it truly a sun, or
to make it to be a true sun, though we know nothing of that real essence whereon that
nominal one depends. Your lordship will then argue, that that real essence is in the
second sun, and makes the second sun. I grant it, when the second sun comes to exist,
so as to be perceived by us to have all the ideas contained in our comjilex idea, i. e. in our
nominal essence of a sun. For should it be true (as is now believed by astronomers),
that the real essence of the sun were in any of the fixed stars, yet such a star could not
for that be by us called a sun, whilst it answers not our complex idea, or nominal essence,
of a sun. But how far that will prove, that llie essences of tldngs, as they are knowable
b^- us, have a reality in them distinct from that of abstract ideas in the mind, which are
merely creatures of the mind, I do not see ; and we shall farther enquire, in considering
your lordship's following words. ' Therefore,' say you, ' there must be a real essence in
every individual of the same kind.' Yes, and I beg leave of your lordship to say, of a
dillerent kind loo. For that alone is it wliich makes it to be what it is.

" That every individual substance has real, internal, individual constitution, i, e. a
real essence, that it makes it to be what it is, I readily grant. Upon this, your lordsliip
says, ' Peter, James, and John, are all true and real men.' Answer. Without doubt,
supposing them to be men, they are true and real men, i. e. supposing the name of
that species belongs to them. And so these three boba<jues are all true and real bobaques,
supposing the name of that species of animals belongs to them.

" For I beseech your lordship to consider, whetlier in your way of arguing, by naming
them Peter, James, and John, names familiar to us, as appropriated to individuals of the
species man, your lordship does not first suppose them men, and then very safely ask,
whether they be not all true and real men? But if I sliould ask your lordship, whether
Weweeua, Chuckery, and Cousheda, were true and real men or no? your !ord>hip
would not be able to tell me, till, I having pointed out to your lordship the individuals

z 3

342 GENERAL TERMS. Book 3.

that they do not signify barely one particular thing ; for then
they would not be general terms, but proper names ; so, on the
other side, it is as evident, they do not signify a plm'ality ; for

called by those names, your lordship, by esamiuing whether they had in them those sen-
sible qualities which your lordship has combined into that complex idea to which you give
the specific name man, determined them all, or some of them, to be the species which you
call man, and so to be true and real man ; which, when your lordship has determined, it is
plain you did it by that which is only the nominal essence, as not knowing the real one.
But your lordship farther asks, ' What is it makes Peter, James, and Jolni, real men ? Is
it the attributing the general name to them ? No, certainly ; but that the true and real
essence of a man is in every one of them.'

" If, when your lordship asks, ' What makes them men ?' your lordship used the word
making in the proper sense for the efficient cause, and in ttnt sense it were true, that the
essence of a man, i. e. the specific essence of that species made a man ; it would un-
doubtedly follow, that this specific essence had a reality beyond that of being only a
general abstract idea in the mind. But when it is said, that it is the true and real essence
of a man in every one of them, that makes Peter, James, and John, true and real men, the
true and real meaning of these words is no more, but that the essence of that species, i. e.
the properties answering the complex abstract idea to which the specific name is given,
being found in them, that makes them be properly and truly called men, or is the reason
why they are called men. Your lordship adds, ' And v.-e must be as certain of this, as
we arc that they are men.'

" How, I beseech your lordship, as we are ceriain that they are men, but only by our
senses, finding those properties in them which answer the abstract complex idea, which is
in our minds, of the specific idea to which we have annexed the specific name man? This
I take to be the true meaning of what your lordship says in the next words, viz., ' They
take their denomination of being men from that common nature or essence which is in
them ;' and I am apt to think these words will not hold true in any other sense.

" Your lordship's fourth inference begins thus : ' That the general idea is not made
from tlie simple ideas by the mere act of the mind abstracting from circumstances, but
from reason and consideration of the nature of things.'

"I thought, ray lord, that reason and consideration had been acts of the mind, mere
acts of the mind, when any thing was done by them. Your lordship gives a reason for
it, viz., ' For when we see several individuals that have the same powers and properties,
we thence infer, that there must be something common to all, which makes them of one
kind. '

" I grant the inference to be true ; but must beg leave to deny that this proves, that
the general idea the name is annexed to, is not made by the mind. I have said, and it
agrees with what your lordship here says, (a) That ' the mind, in making its complex ideas
of substances, only follows nature, and puts no ideas together, which are not supposed to
have an union in nature. Nobody joins the voice of a sheep with the shape of a horse ;
nor the colour of lead with the weight and fixedness of gold, to be the complex ideas of
any real substances ; unless he has a mind to fill his head with chimeras, and his discourses
with unintelligible words. Men observing certain qualities always joined and existing
together, therein copied nature, and of ideas so united, made their complex ones of sub-
stance, &c.' Which is very little dilFereut from what your lordship here says, ' that it is
from our observation of individuals, that we come to infer, ' that there is something com-
mon to them all.' ' But I do not see how it will thence follow, that the general or spe-
cific idea is not made by the mere act of the mind. ' No,' says your lordship, ' there is
something common to them all, which makes them of one kind ; and if the difference of
kinds be real, that which makes them all of one kind, must not be a nominal, but real,
essence.'

" This may be some objection to the name of nominal essence ; but is, as I humbly
conceive, none to the thing designed by it. There is an internal constitution of things, on
which their properties depend. This your lordship and I are agreed of, and this we
call the real essence. There are also certain complex ideas, or combinations of these
properties in men's minds, to which they commonly annex specific names, or names of
sorts or kinds of things. This, I believe, your lordship does not deny. These complex

(a) B, 3, c. 6, §. 28, 29.

Ch, 3. GENERAL TERMS. 343

man and men would then signify the same ; and the distinction
of numbers (as the grammarians call them) would be superfluous
and useless. That then which general words signify, is a sort

ideas, for want of a better name, 1 have called nominal essences ; how properly, I will
not dispute. But if any one will help me to a better name for them, I am ready to
receive it: till (hen, I must, to express myself, use this : Now my lord, body, life, and
the power of reasoning, being not the real essence of a man, as 1 believe your lordship
will agree, will your lordship say, that they are not enough to make the thing wherein
they are found, of the kind called man, and not of the kind called baboon, because the
did'erence of these kinds is real ? If this be not real enough to make the thing of one
kind, and not of another, I do not see how animal rationale can be enough really to
distinguish a man from a horse ; for that is but the nominal, not real, essence of that
kind, designed by the name man. And yet, I suppose, every one thinks it real enough
to make a real difference between that and otlier kinds. And if nothing will serve the
turn, to MAKE things of one kind, and not of another (which, as I have shown, signifies
no more but ranking of them under different specific names), but tlieir real unknown
constitutions, which are the real essences we are speaking of, 1 fear it would be a long
while before we should have really different kinds of substances, or distinct names for
them, unless we could distinguish them by these differences, of which we have no distinct
conceptions. For I think it would not be readily answered me, if I should demand,
wherein lies the real difference in the internal constitution of a stag from that of a buck,
which are each of them very well known to be of one kind, and not of the other;
and nobody questions but that the kinds whereof each of them is, are really different,

" Your lordship farther says, ' And this difference doth not depend upon the complex
ideas of substances, whereby men arbitrarily join modes together in their minds.' I
confess, ray lord, I know not what to say to this, because I do not know what tliese
complex ideas of substances are, whereby men arbitrarily join modes together in their
minds. But I am apt to think there is a mistake in the matter, by the words that follow,
which are these : ' For let them raist,tke in their complication of ideas, either in leaving
out or putting in what doth not belong to them ; and let their ideas be what they please,
the real essence of a man, and ahorse, and a tree, are just what they were.'

" The mistake I spoke of, I humbly suppose is this, that things are here taken to be
distinguished by their real essences ; when, by the very way of speaking of them, it is
clear, that they are already distinguished by their nominal essences, and are so taken to
be. For what, I beseech your lordship, does your lordship mean, when you say, ' The
real essence of a man, and a horse, and a tree,' but that there are such kinds already set
out by the signification of these names, ' man, horse, tree ?' And what, I beseech
your lordship, is the signification of each of tliese specific names, but the complex idea it
stands for i And that complex idea is the nominal essence, and nothing else. So that
taking man, as your lordsliip does here, to stand for a kind or sort of individuals, all
which agree in that common complex idea, which that specific name stands for, it is certain
that the real essence of all the individuals comprehended under the specific name man,
in your use of it, would be just the same ; let others leave out or put into their complex
idea of man what they please ; because the real essence on which that unaltered complex
idea, i. e. those properties depend, must necessarily be concluded to be the same.

" For I take it for granted, that in using the name man, in this place, your lordship
uses it for that complex idea which is in your lordsdip's mind of that species. So tiiat
your lordship, by putting it for, or substituting it in, the place of that complex idea where
you say the real essence of it is just as it was, or the very same as it was, does suppose
the idea it stands for to be steadily the same. For if I change the signification of the
word man, whereby it may not comprehend just the same individuals which in your lord-
ship's sense it does, but shut out some of those that to your lordship are men, in your
signification of the word man, or take in others, to which your lordship does not allow the
name man ; I do not think you will say, that the real essence of man in both these senses
is the same. And yet your lordship seems to say so, when you say, ' Let men mistake
in the complication of their ideas, either in leaving out or putting in what doth not belong
to them;' and let their ideas be what they please, the real essence of the individuals
comprehended under the names annexed to tliese ideas, will be the same : for so, I
humbly conceive, it must be put, to make out what your lordship aims at. For as your

z 4

344 GENERAL TERMS. Book 3.

of things, and each of them does that, by being a sign of an
abstract idea in the mind, to which idea, as things existing are
found to agree, so they come to be ranked under that name ; or,
which is all one, be of that sort. Whereby it is evident, that
the essences of the sorts, or (if the Latin word })leases better)
species of things, are nothing else but these abstract ideas.
For the having the essence of any species, being that which
makes any thing to be of that species, and the conformity to the
idea to which the name is annexed, being that which gives a
right to that name, the having the essence, and the having the
conformity, must needs be the same thing ; since to be of any
species, and to have a right to the name of that species, is all
one. As, for example, to be a man, or of the species man, and
to have a right to the name man, is the same thing. Again,
to be man, or of the species man, and have the essence of a
man, is the same thing. Now, since nothing can be a man.

lordship puts it by the name of man, or any other specific name, your lordship seems to
me to suppose, that that name stands for, and not for the same idea, at the same time.

"For example, my lord, let your lordship's idea, to which you annex the sign man, be a
rational animal : let another man's idea be a rational animal of such a shape ; let a third
man's idea be of an animal of such a size and shape, leaving out rationality ; let a fourth's
be an animal with a body of such a shape, and an immaterial substance, with a power of
reasoning; let a fifth leave out of his idea, an immaterial substance. It is plain everyone
of these will call his a man, as well as your lordship ; and yet it is as plain that men, as
standing for all tliese distinct complex ideas, cannot be supposed to have the same
internal constitution, i. e. the same real essence. The truth is, every distinct abstract
idea with a name to it, makes a real distinct kind, whatever the real essence (which we
know not of any of them) be.

" And therefore I grant it true what your lordship says in the next words : ' And let the
nominal essences difler ever so much, the real common essence or nature of the several
kinds, are not at all altered by them,' i. e. that our thoughts or ideas cannot alter the
real constitutions that are in things that exist, there is nothing more certain. But yet it
is true, that the changes of ideas to which we annex them, can and does alter the
signification of tlieir names, and thereby alter the kinds, which by these names we rank
and sort them into. Your lordship farther adds, ' And these real essences are unchange-
able,' i. e. the internal constitutions are unchangeable. Of what, I beseech your lordship,
are the internal constitutions unchangeable ? Not of any that exist, but of God
alone ; for they may be changed all as easily by that hand that made them, as the internal
frame of a watch. What then is it that is unchangeable ? The internal constitution
or real essence of a species : which, in plain English, is no more but this, whilst the same
specific name, v. g. of man, horse, or tree, is annexed to, or made the sign of, the same
abstract complex idea, under which I rank several individuals ; it is impossible but the
real constitution on which that unaltered complex idea or nominal essence depends, must
be the same, i. e. in other words, where we find all the same properties, we have reason
to conclude there is the same real internal constitution from which those properties flow.
" But your lordship proves the real essences to be unchangeable, because God makes
them, in these following words : ' For, however there may happen some variety in indivi-
duals by particular accidents, yet tlie essences of men, and horses, and trees, remain
always the same ; because they do not depend on the ideas of men, but on tlie will of the
Creator, who hath made several sorts of beings.'

" It is true, the real constitutions or essences of particular things existing, do not
depend on the ideas of men, but on the will of the Creator ; but tlieir being ranked into
sorts, under such and such names, does depend, and wholly depend, on the ideas
of men.

Ch. 3. GENERAL TERMS. 345

or have a right to the name man, but" what has a con-
formity to the abstract idea the name man stands for; nor
any thing be a man, or have a right to the species man, but
what has the essence of that species ; it follows, that the abstract
idea for which the name stands, and the essence of the species,
is one and the same. From whence it is easy to observe, that
the essences of the sorts of things, and consequently the sorting
of this, is the workmanship of the understanding that abstracts,
and makes those general ideas.

§. 13. They are the tvorkinanship of the understanding, but have their
foundation in the similitude of things.— I would not here be thought
to forget, much less to deny, that nature, in the production of
things, makes several of them alike ; there is nothing more
obvious, especially in the races of animals, and all things pro-
pagated by seed. But yet, I think we may say, the sorting of
them under names, is the workmanship of the understanding,
taking occasion from the similitude it observes amongst them,
to make abstract general ideas, and set them up in the mind,
with names annexed to them, as patterns or forms (for in that
sense the word form has a very proper signification), to which,
as particular things existing are found to agree, so they come
to be of that species, have that denomination, or are put into
that classis. For when we say, this is a mail, that a horse ; this
justice, that cruelty; this a watch, that a jack;, what do we
else but rank things under different specific names, as agreeing
to those abstract ideas, of which we have made those names
the signs ? And what are the essences of those species, set out
and marked by names, but those abstract ideas in the mind ;
which are, as it were, the bonds between particular things that
exist, and the names they are to be ranked under? and when
general names have any connexion with particular beings, these
abstract ideas are the medium that unites them ; so that the es-
sences of species, as distinguished and denominated by us, neither
are, nor can be, any thing but these precise abstract ideas we have
in our minds. And, therefore, the supposed real essences of sub-
stances, if different from our abstract ideas, cannot be the
essences of the species we rank things into. For two species
may be one, as rationally as two different essences be the
essence of one species ; and I demand, what are the alterations
may, or may not, be in a horse or lead, without making either of
them to be of another species ? In determining the species of
things by our abstract ideas, this is easy to resolve ; but if any
one will regulate himself herein, by supposed real essences, he
will, I suppose, be at a loss : and he will never be able to
know when any thing precisely ceases to be of the species oi a
horse or lead.

346 GENERAL TERMS. Book 3.

§. 1 4. Each distinct abstract idea is a distinct essence. — Nor will
any one wonder, that I say these essences, or abstract ideas
(which are the measures of name, and the boundaries of species),
are the workmanship of the understanding, who considers that
at least the complex ones are often, in several men, different
collections of simple ideas ; and, therefore, that is covetousness
to one man, which is not so to another. Nay, even in sub-
stances, where their abstract ideas seem to be taken from the
things themselves, they are not constantly the same ; no, not in
that species which is most familiar to us, and with which we
have the most intimate acquaintance ; it having been more than
once doubted, whether the foetus born of a woman, were a man,
even so far as that it hath been debated, whether it were, or
were not, to be nourished and baptized ; which could not be, if
the abstract idea, or essence, to which the name man belonged,
were of nature's making ; and were not the uncertain and
various collection of simple ideas, which the understanding puts
together, and then abstracting it, affixed a name to it. So that,
in truth, every distinct abstract idea, is a distinct essence ; and
the names that stand for such distinct ideas, are the names of
things essentially different. Thus a circle is as essentially dif-
ferent from an oval, as a sheep from a goat ; and rain is as
€ssentially different from snow, as water from earth ; that ab-
stract idea, which is the essence of one, being impossible to be
communicated to the other. And thus any two abstract ideas,
that in any part vary one from another, w'ith two distinct names
annexed to them, constitute two distinct sorts, or, if you please,
species, as essentially different as any two the most remote or
opposite in the world.

§. 15. Real and nominal essences. — But since the essences of
things are thought by some (and not without reason) to be
wholly unknown ; it may not be amiss to consider the several
significations of the word essence.

First, Essence may be taken for the being of any thing,
whereby it is what it is. And thus, the real internal, but gene-
rally, in substances, unknown, constitution of things, whereon
their discoverable qualities depend, may be called their essence.
This is the proper original signification of the word, as is
evident from the formation of it; essentia, in its primary nota-
tion, signifying properly being. And in this sense it is still
used, when we speak of the essence of particular things, without
giving them any name.

Secondly, The learning and disputes of the schools, having
been much busied about genus and species, the word essence
has almost lost its primary signification ; and instead of the

Ch. 3. GENERAL TERMS. 347

real constitution of things, has been ahnost wholly applied to
the artificial constitution of genus and species. It is true, there
is ordinarily supposed a real constitution of the sorts of things ;
and it is past doubt, there must be some real constitution, on
which any collection of simple ideas co-existing must depend.
But it being evident, that tilings are ranked under names into
sorts or species, only as they agree to certain abstract ideas,
to which we have annexed those names, the essence of each
genus, or sort, comes to be nothing but that abstract idea,
which the general, or sortal (if I may have leave so to call it
from sort, as I do general from genus), name stands for. And
this we shall find to be that which the word essence imports, in
its most familiar use. These two sorts of essences, I suppose,
may not unfitly be termed, the one the real, the other the
nominal, essence.

§. 16. Constant connexion between the name and nominal essence. —
Between the nominal essence, and the name, there is so near
a connexion, that the name of any sort of things cannot be
attributed to any particular being, .but what has this essence,
whereby it answers that abstract idea, whereof that name is
the sign.

§. 17. Supposition that species are distinguished by their real
essences, useless. — Concerning the real essences of corporeal sub-
stances (to mention these only), there are, if I mistake not, two
opinions. The one is of those, who using the word essence
for they know not what, suppose a certain number of those
essences, according to which all natural things are made, and
wherein they do exactly, every one of them, partake, and so
become of this or that species. The other, and more rational,
opinion, is of those, who look on all natural things to have a
real, but unknown, constitution of their insensible parts, from
which flow those sensible qualities, which serve us to distin-
guish them one from another, according as we have occasion to
rank them into sorts, under common denominations. The
former of these opinions, which supposes these essences as a
certain number of forms or moulds, wherein all natural things,
that exist, are cast, and do equally partake, has, I imagine, very
much perplexed the knowledge of natural things. The frequent
productions of monsters, in all the species of animals, and of
changelings, and other strange issues of human birth, carry
with them difficulties not possible to consist with this hypo-
thesis ; since it is as impossible, that two things, partaking
exactly of the same real essence, should have different pro-
perties, as that two figures, partaking of the same real essence
of Q circle, should have different properties. But were there

348 GENERAL TERMS. Book 3.

no other reason against it, yet the supposition of essences, that
cannot be known ; and the making them, nevertheless, to be
that which distinguishes the species of things, is so wholly use-
less and unserviceable to any part of our knowledge, that that
alone were sufficient to make us lay it by, and content ourselves
with such essences of the sorts or species of things, as come
within the reach of our knowledge ; which, when seriously
considered, will be found, as I have said, to be nothing else
but those abstract complex ideas to which we have annexed
distinct general names.

§. 18. Real and nominal essence, the same in simple ideas and
modes, different in substances. — Essences being thus distinguished
into nominal and real, we may farther observe, that in the species
of simple ideas and modes they are always the same ; but in
substances, always quite different. Thus a figure including a
space between three lines, is the real as well as nominal essence
of a triangle ; it being not only the abstract idea to which the
general name is annexed, but the very essentia, or being, of the
thing itself, that foundation from which all its properties flow,
and to which they are all inseparably annexed. But it is far
otherwise concerning that parcel of matter which makes the
ring on my finger, wherein these two essences are apparently
different. For it is the real constitution of its insensible parts,
on which depend all those properties of colour, weight, fusibility,
fixedness, &.C., which makes it to be gold, or gives it a right to
that name, which is therefore its nominal essence ; since nothing
can be called gold, but what has a conformity of qualities to
that abstract complex idea, to which that name is annexed. But
this distinction of essences, belonging particularly to substances,
we shall, when we come to consider their names,^have an oc-
casion to treat of more fully.

§;. 19. Essences ingenerable and incorruptible. — That such ab-
stract ideas, with names to them, as we have been speaking of,
are essences, may farther appear by what we are told concerning
essences, viz., that they are all ingenerable and incorruptible.
Which cannot be true of the real constitutions of things, which
begin and perish with them. All things that exist, besides their
author, are all liable to change ; especially those things we are
acquainted with, and have ranked into bands, under distinct
names or ensigns. Thus that which was grass to day, is to
morrow the flesh of a sheep ; and within a few days after, becomes
part of a man ; in all w^hich, and the like changes, it is evident,
their real essence, i. e. that constitution whereon the properties
of these several things depended, is destroyed, and perishes with
them. But essences being taken for ideas, established in the

Ch. \. NAMES OF SIMPLE IDEAS. 340

mind, with names annexed to them, they are supposed to remain
st.eadily the same, whatever mutations the particular substances
are liable to. For whatever becomes of Alexander and Bucephalus
the ideas to which man and horse are annexed, are supposed
nevertheless to remain the same ; and so the essences of those
species are preserved whole and undestroyed, whatever changes
happen to any, or all of the individuals of those species. By
this means the essence of a species rests safe and entire, without
the existence of so much as one individual of that kind. For
were there now no circle existing any where in the world (as,
perhaps, that figure exists not any where exactly marked out), yet
the idea annexed to that name would not cease to be what it is ;
nor cease to be as a pattern, to determine which of the particular
figures we meet with, have, or have not, a right to the name
circle, and so to show which of them, by having that essence,
was of that species. And though there neither were, nor had
been, in nature such a beast as an unicorn, nor such a fish as a
mermaid ; yet supposing those names to stand for complex ab-
stract ideas, that contained no inconsistency in them ; the
essence of a mermaid is as intelligible as that of a man ; and
the idea of an unicorn, as certain, steady, and permanent, as
that of a horse. From what has been said, it is evident, that
the doctrine of the immutability of essences, proves them to be
only abstract ideas ; and is founded on the relation established
between them, and certain sounds as signs of them ; and will
always be true, as long as the same name can have the same
signification.

§. 20. Recapitulation. — To conclude, this is that which in
short I would say, viz., that all the great business of genera
and.; species, and their essences, amounts to no more but this,
that men making abstract ideas, and settling them in their minds,
with names annexed to them, do thereby enable themselves to
consider things, and discourse of them, as it were, in bundles,
for the easier and readier improvement and communication of
their knowledge, which would advance but slowly, were their
words and thoughts confined only to particulars.

CHAPTER IV.

OF THE NAMES OF SIMPLE IDEAS,

§. 1. Barnes of simple ideas, modes, and substances, have each
something jyecidiar. — Though all words, as I have shown, signify
nothing immediately but the ideas in the mind of the speaker,
yet upon a nearer survey, we shall find that the names of simple

350 NAMES OF SIMPLE IDEAS. Book 3.

ideas, mixed modes (under which I comprise relations too), and
natural substances, have each of them something peculiar and
different from the other. For example :

§. 2. First, names of simple ideas and substances, intimate real
existence. — First, The names of simple ideas and substances,
with the abstract ideas in the mind, which they immediately
signify, intimate also some real existence, from which was derived
their original pattern. But the names of mixed modes terminate
in the idea that is in the mind, and lead not the thoughts any
farther, as we shall see more at large in the following chapter.

§. 3. Secondly, names of simjjle ideas and modes, signify always
both real and nominal essence.— Secondly, The names of simple
ideas and modes, signifying always the real, as well as nominal,
essence of their species. But the names of natural substances
signify rarely, if ever, any thing but barely the nominal essences
of those species, as we shall show in the chapter that treats of
the names of substances in particular.

§. 4. Thirdly, names of simple ideas undefindble. —Thirdly,
The names of simple ideas are not capable of any definitions ;
the names of all complex ideas are. It has not, that I know,
hitherto been taken notice of by any body, what words are, and
what are not, capable of being defined ; the want whereof is, as I
am apt to think, not seldom the occasion of great wrangling and
obscurity in men's discourses, whilst some demand definitions
of terms that cannot be defined ; and others think, they ought
to rest satisfied in an explication made by a more general word,
and its restriction (or to speak in terms of art, by a genus and
difference), wheij even after such definition made according to
rule, those who hear of it, have often no more a clear conception
of the meaning of the word, than they had before. This at least,
I think, that the showing what words are, and what are not,
capable of definitions, and wherein consists a good definition, is
not wholly beside our present purpose ; and perhaps will afford
so much light to the nature of these signs, and our ideas, as to
deserve a more particular consideration.

§. 5. If all were definahle, it would he a process in infinitum. —
I will not here trouble myself, to prove that all terms are not
definable from that progress, in infinitum, which it w^ill visibly
lead us into, if we should allow, that all names could be defined.
For if the terms of one definition, were still to be defined by
another, where at last should we stop ? But I shall, from the
nature of our ideas, and the signification of our words, show,
why some names can, and others cannot, be defined, and which
they are.

§. 6. What a definition is. — I think it is agreed, that a defi-

Ch. 4. NAMES OF SIMPLE IDEAS. 351

nition is nothing else, but the showing the meaning of one word
by several other not synonymous terms. The meaning of words,
being only the ideas they are made to stand for by him that uses
them; the meaning of any term is then shown, or the word is
defined, when by other words the idea it is made the sign of, and
annexed to in the mind of the speaker, is, as it were, represented,
or set before the view of another ; and thus its signification as-
certained. This is the only use and end of definitions; and
therefore the only measure of what is, or is not, a good definition.

§. 7. Simple ideas why undefmable . — This being premised, I
say, that the names of simple ideas, and those only, are inca-
pable of being defined. The reason whereof is this, that the
several terms of a definition, signifying several ideas, they can
altogether by no means represent an idea, which has no com-
position at all ; and therefore definition, which is properly
nothing but the showing the meaning of one word by several
others, not signifying each the same thing, can in the names of
simple ideas have no place.

§. 8. Instances; motion. — The not observing this difference
in our ideas, and their names, has produced that eminent trifling
in the schools, which is so easy to be observed in the definitions
they give us of some few of these simple ideas. For as to the
greatest part of them, even those masters of definitions were
fain to leave them untouched, merely by the impossibility they
found in it. What more exquisite jargon could the wit of man
invent, than this definition, " The act of a being in power, as far
forth as in power?" which would puzzle any rational man, to
whom it was not already known by its famous absurdity, to
guess what word it could ever be supposed to be the explication
of. If Tully asking a Dutchman what heiveeginge was, should
have received this explication in his own language, that it was
actus entis in potentia quatenus in potentia ; I ask whether any
one can imagine he could thereby have understood what the
word heweerjinge signified, or have guessed what idea a Dutch-
man ordinarily had in his mind, and would signify to another,
when he used that sound.

§. 9. Nor have the modern philosophers, who have endea-
voured to throw off the jargon of the schools, and speak^'intelli-
gibly, much better succeeded in defining simple ideas, whether
by explaining their causes, or any otherwise. The atomists,
who define motion to be a passage from one place to another,
what do they more than put one synonymous word for another ?
For what is passage other than motion ? And if they w-ere asked
what passage was, how would they better define.it than by
motion ? For is it not at least as proper and significant to say.

352 NAMES OF SIMPLE IDEAS. Books.

passaj^e is a motion from one place to another, as to say, motion
^s a passage, &c. ? This is to translate, and not to define, when
we change two words of the same signification one for another ;
wli'.ch when one is better understood than the other, may serve
to discover what idea the unknown stands for ; but is very far
from a definition, unless we will say, every English word in the
dictionary, is the definition of the Latin word it answers, and
that motion is a definition of mofus. Nor v/ill the successive
application of the parts of the superficies of one body, to those
of another, which the Cartesians give us, prove a much better
definition of motion when well examined.

§. 10. Li(j]it. — " The act of perspicuous, as far forth as per-
spicuous," is another peripatetic definition of a simple idea ;
which though not more absurd than the former of motion, yet
betrays its uselessness and insignificancy more plainly, because
experience will easily convince any one, that it cannot make
the meaning of the word light (which it pretends to define) at
all understood by a blind man : but the definition of motion
appears not at first sight so useless, because it escapes this way
of trial. For this simple idea, entering by the touch as well as
sight, it is impossible to show an example of any one, who has
no other way to get the idea of motion, but barely by the
definition of that name. Those who tell us, that light is a great
number of little globules, striking briskly on the bottom of the
eye, speak more intelligibly than the schools : but yet these
words ever so well understood, would make the idea the word
light stands for, no more known to a man that understands it
not before, than if one should tell him, that light was nothing
but a company of little tennis-balls, which fairies all day long
struck with rackets against some men's foreheads, whilst they
passed by others. For granting this explication of the thing to
be true ; yet the idea of the cause of light, if we had it ever so
exact, .would no more give us the idea of light itself, as it is
such a particular perception in us, than the idea of the figure
and motion of a sharp piece of steel, would give us the idea of
that pain which it is able to cause in us. For the cause of any
sensation, and the sensation itself, in all the simple ideas of one
sense, are tAvo ideas ; and two ideas so different and distant
one fiom another, that no two can be more so. And therefore
should Des Cartes' globules strike ever so long on the retina of
a man, who was blind by a gutta serena, he would thereby never
have any idea of light, or any thing approaching it, though he
understood what little globules were, and what striking on
another body was, ever so well. And therefore the Cartesians
very well distinguish between that light which is the cause of

Ch.A. NAMES OF 8TMPLR IDEAS. 363

that sensation in us, and the idea which is produced in us by it,
and is that which is properly lij>ht.

^. 11. Simple ideas, why undejinuble , further explained. —
Simple ideas, as has been shown, are only to be got by those
impressions objects themselves make on our minds by'' the
proper inlets appointed to each sort. If they are not received
this way, all the words in the world, made use of to explain or
define any of their names, will never be able to produce in us
the idea it stands for. For words being sounds, can produce in
us no other simple ideas, than of those very sounds ; nor excite
any in us, but by that voluntary connexion which is knovrn to
be between them, and those simple ideas which common use
has made them signs of. He that thinks otherwise, let him try
if any words can give him the taste of a pine-apple, and make
him have the true idea of the relish of that celebrated delicious
fruit. So far as he is told it has a resemblance with any tastes,
whereof he has the ideas already in his memory, imprinted there
by sensible objects, not strangers to his palate, so far may he
approach that resemblance in his mind. But this is not fivino-
us that idea by a definition, but exciting in us other simple
ideas, by their known names ; which will be still very different
from the true taste of that fruit itself. In light and colours, and
all other simple ideas, it is the same thing : for the signification of
sounds is not natural, but only imposed and arbitrary. And no de-
finition of light, or redness, is more fitted, or able, to produce either
of those ideas in us, than the sound light, or red, by itself. For to
hope to produce an idea of light, or colour, by a sound, however
formed, is to expect that sounds should be visible, or colours
audible; and to make the ears do the oflice of all the other
senses. Which is all one as to say, that we might taste, smell,
and see by the ears : a sort of philosophy worthy only of Sancho
Pancha, who had the faculty to see Dulcinea by hearsay.
And therefore he that has not before received into his mind, by
the proper inlet, the simple idea which any word stands for, can
never come to know the signification of that word, by any other
words, or sounds, whatsoever put together, according to any
rules of definition. The only way is, by applying to his senses
the proper object ; and so producing that idea in him, for which
he has learned the name already. A studious blind man, who
had mightily beat his head about visible objects, and made use
of the explication of his books and friends, to understand those
names of light and colours, which often came in his way ;
bragged one day, that he now understood what scarlet signified.
Upon which, hi,s friend demanding, what scarlet was? the
blind man answered, it was like the sound of a trumpet. Just

A A

ao4 NAMES OF SliMPLE IDEAS. Book^.

such an understanding of the name of any other simple idea will
he have, who hopes to get it only from a definition, or other
words made use of to explain it.

§. 12» The contrary shown in complex ideas, hy instances of
a statue and rainbow. — The case is quite otherwise in complex
ideas ; which consisting of several simple ones, it is in the power
of words, standing for the several ideas, that make that com-
position, to imprint complex ideas in the mind, which were
never there before, and so make their names be understood. In
such collections of ideas, passing under one name, definition, or
the teaching the signification of one word, by several others, has
place, and may make us understand the names of things, which
never came within the reach of our senses ; and frame ideas
suitable to those in other men's minds, when they use those
names ; provided that none of the terms of the definition stand
for any such simple ideas, which he to whom the explication is
made, has never yet had in his thought. Thus the word statue
may be explained to a blind man by other words, when picture
cannot, his senses having given him the idea of figure, but not
of colours, which therefore words cannot excite in him. This
gained the prize to the painter, against the statuary ; each of
which contending for the excellency of his art, and the statuary
bragging, that his was to be preferred, because it reached
farther, and even those who had lost their eyes, could yet
perceive the excellency of it. The painter agreed to refer
himself to the judgment of a blind man; who being brought
where there was a statue made by the one, and a picture drawn
by the other ; he was first led to the statue, in which he traced
with his hands, all the lineament of the face and body; and
with great admiration, applauded the skill of the workman.
But being led to the picture, and having his hands laid upon it,
was told, that now he touched the head, and then the forehead,
eyes, nose, &c., as his hands moved over the parts of the
picture on the cloth, without finding any the least distinction :
whereupon, he cried out, that certainly that must needs be a very
admirable and divine piece of workmanship, which could
represent to them all those parts, where he could neither feel
nor perceive any thing.

§. 13. He that should use the word rainbow, to one who
^■^''i w all those colours, but yet had never seen that phenomenon,

ould, by enumerating the figure, largeness, position, and order
.,■ the colours, so well define that word, that it might be per-
tly understood. But yet that definition, how exact and
periett soever, would never make a blind man understand it ;
because several of the simple ideas that make that complex

Ch. 4. NAMES OF SIMPLE IDEAS. 355

one, being such as he never received by sensation and expe-
rience, no words are able to excite them in his mind.

§. J 4. The names of complex ideas when to he made intelligible
by words. — Simple ideas, as has been shown, can only be got by
experience, from those objects which are proper to produce in
us those perceptions. When by this means we have our minds
stored with them, and know the names for them, then we are
in a condition to define, and by definition, to understand, the
names of complex ideas, that are made up of them. But when
any term stands for a simple idea, that a man has never yet
had in his mind, it is impossible, by any words, to make known
its meaning to him. When any term stands for an idea a man
is acquainted with, but is ignorant that that term is the sign of
it, there another name, of the same idea which he has been
accustomed to, may make him understand its meaning. But in
no case whatsoever, is any name, of any simple idea, capable of
a definition.

§. 15. Fourthly, 7iames of simple ideas least doubtful. —
Fourthly, But though the names of simple ideas have not the
help of definition to determine their signification ; yet that
hinders not, but that they are generally less doubtful and
uncertain, than those of mixed modes and substances. Because
they standing only for one simple perception, men, for the most
part, easily and perfectly agree in their signification : and there
is little room for mistake and wrangling about their meaning.
He that knows once, that whiteness is the name of that colour
he has observed in snow or milk, will not be apt to misapply that
word, as long as he retains that idea ; which when he has quite lost,
he is not apt to mistake the meaning of it, but perceives he under-
stands it not. There is neither a multiplicity of simple ideas to be
put together, which makes the doubtfulness in the names of mixed
modes ; nor a supposed, but an unknown, real essence, with pro-
perties depending thereon, the precise number whereof is also
unknown, which makes the diflSculty in the names of substances.
But, on the contrary, in simple ideas, the whole signification of
the name is known at once, and consists not of parts, whereof
more or less being put in, the idea may be varied, and so the
signification of name be obscure or uncertain.

§. 16. Fifthly, simple ideas have few ascents in lined preedi-
camentali. — Fifthly, This farther may be observed, concerning
simple ideas and their names, that they have but few ascents in
lined pradicavientali (as they call it), from the lowest species to
the summum genus. The reason whereof is, that the lowest
species being but one simple idea, nothing can be left out of it,
that so the difference being taken away, it may agree with some

A A 2

356 NAMES OF MIXED MODES. Book 9.

other thing in one idea common to them both ; which having
one name, is the genus of the other two : v. g. there is nothing
can be left out of the idea of wliite and red, to make them aoree
in one common appearance, and so have one general name ; as
rationality beiiig left out of the complex idea of man, makes it
agree with brute, in the more general idea and name of animal.
And, therefore, when to avoid unpleasant enumerations, men
would comprehend both white and red, and several other such
simple ideas, under one general name, they have been fain to do
it by a word which denotes only the way they get into the mind.
For when white, red, and yellow, are all comprehended under
the genus or name colour, it signifies no more, but such ideas
as are produced in the mind only by the sight, and have
entrance only through the eyes. And when they would frame
yet a more general term, to comprehend both colours and sounds,
and the like simple ideas, they do it by a word that signifies all
such as come into the mind only by one sense : and so the
general term quality, in its ordinary acceptation, comprehends
colours, sounds, tastes, smells, and tangible qualities, with
distinction from extension, number, motion, pleasure, and pain,
which make impressions on the mind, and introduce their ideas
by more senses than one.

^. 17. Sixthly, names of simjjle ideas stand for ideas, not at
all arbitrary . — Sixthly, The names of simple ideas, substances,
and mixed modes, have also this difference : that those of mixed
modes stand for ideas, perfectly arbitrary : those of substances,
are not yjerfectly so ; but refer to a pattern, though with some
latitude : and those of simple ideas are perfectly taken from
the existence of things, and are not arbitrary at all. Which,
what difference it makes in the significations of their names, we
shall see in the following chapters.

The names of simple modes differ little from those of simple
ideas.

CHAPTER V.

OF THE NAMES OF MIXED MODES AND RELATIONS.

§. 1. They stand for abstract ideas, as well as other general
names. — The names of mixed modes being general, they stand,
as has been shown, for sorts or species of things, each of which
has its peculiar essence. The essences of these species also, as
has been shown, are nothing but the abstract ideas in the
mind, to which the name is annexed. Thus far the names and
essences of mixed modes, have nothing but what is common to
them, with other ideas \ but if we take a little nearer survey of

Ch. o. NAMES OF MIXED MODES. 35?

them, we shall find that they have something peculiar, which,
perhaps, may deserve our attention.

§. 2. First, the ideas they stand for, are made by the under-
standing.— The first particularity I shall observe in them is,
that the abstract ideas, or, if you please, the essences, of the
several species of mixed modes, are made by the understanding,
wherein they differ from those of simple ideas ; in which
sort, the mind has no power to make any one, but only receives
such as are presented to it, by the real existence of things
operating upon it.

§. 3. Secondly, made arbitrarily, and ivithout patterns. — In
the next place, these essences of the species of mixed modes,
are not only made by the mind, but made very arbitrarily, made
without patterns, or reference to any real existence. Wherein
they differ from those of substances, which carry with them the
supposition of some real being, from which they are taken, and
to which they are conformable. But in its complex ideas of
mixed modes, the mind takes a liberty not to follow the exist-
ence of things exactly. It unites and retains certain collec-
tions, as so many distinct specific ideas, whilst others, that as
often occur in nature, and are as plainly suggested by outward
things, pass neglected, without particular names or specifi-
cations. Nor does the mind, in these of mixed modes, as in the
complex ideas of substances, examine them by the real exist-
ence of things : or verify them by patterns, containing such
peculiar compositions in nature. To know whether his idea of
adultery, or incest, be right, will a man seek it any where
amongst things existing? Or, is it true, because any one has
been witness to such an action ? No : but it suffices here, that
men have put together such a collection, into one complex idea,
that makes the archetype and specific idea, whether ever any
such action were committed in rerum natura, or no.

§. 4. How this is done. — To understand this aright, we must
consider wherein this making of these complex ideas consists ;
and that is not in the making any new idea, but putting together
those which the mind had before. Wherein the mind does
these three things ; First, It chooses a certain number. Secondly,
It gives them connexion, and makes them into one idea.
Thirdly, It ties them together by a name. If we examine how
the mind proceeds in these, and what liberty it takes in them,
we shall easily observe how these essences of the species of
mixed modes, are the workmanship of the mind; and conse-
quently, that the species themselves are of men's making.

§. 5. Evidently arbitrary, in that the idea is often before the
existence. — Nobody can doubt, but that these ideas of mixed

A A 3

358 NAMES OF MIXJ^D MODES. Books.

modes, are made by a voluntary collection of ideas put
together in the mind, independent from any original patterns in
nature, who will but reflect, that this sort of complex ideas may
be made, abstracted, and have names given them, and so a
species be constituted, before any one individual of that species
ever existed. Who can doubt, but the ideas of sacrilege, or
adultery, might be framed in the minds of men, and have names
given them ; and so these species of mixed modes be consti-
tuted, before either of them was ever committed ; and might be
as well discoursed of, and reasoned about, and as certain truths
discovered of them, whilst yet they had no being but in the
understanding, as well as now, that they have but too frequently
a real existence ? Whereby it is plain, how much the sorts of
mixed modes, are the creatures of the understanding, where
they have a being as subservient to all the ends of real truth
and knowledge, as when they really exist: and we cannot doubt
but law-makers have often made laws about species of actions,
which w^ere only the creatures of their own understandings :
beings that had no other existence, but in their own minds.
And, I think, nobody can deny, but that the resurrection was
a species of mixed modes in the mind, before it really existed.

§. 6. Instances; murder, incest, sfaLbing. — To see how arbi-
trarily these essences of mixed modes are made by the mind,
we need but take a view of almost any of them. A little looking
into them, will satisfy us, that it is the mind that combines
several scattered independent ideas, into one complex one ; and
by the common name it gives them, makes them the essence of
a certain species, without regulating itself by any connexion
they have in nature. For what greater connexion in nature has
the idea of a man, than the idea of a sheep, with killing ; that
this is made a particular species of action, signified by the word
murder ; and the other not ? Or what union is there in nature,
between the idea of a relation of a father, with killing, than
that of a son, or neighbour, that those are combined into one
complex idea, and, thereby, made the essence of the distinct
species, parricide, whilst the other make no distinct species at
all? But though they have made killing a man's father or
mother, a distinct species from killing his son or daughter ;
yet, in some other cases, son and daughter are taken in too, as
well as father and mother ; and they are all equally comprehended
in the same species, as in that of incest. Thus the mind in
mixed modes arbitrarily unites into complex ideas, such as it
finds convenient ; whilst others that have altogether as much
union in nature, are left loose, and never combined into one idea,
because they have no need of one name. It is evident then.

Ch. 5. NAMES OF MIXED MODES. 359

that the mind, by its free choice, gives a connexion to a certain
number of ideas, which, in nature, have no more union with one
another, than others that it leaves out ; why else is the part of
the weapon, the beginning of the wound is made with, taken
notice of, to make the distinct species called stabbing, and the
figure and matter of the weapon left out ? I do not say this is done
without reason, as we shall see more by-and-by ; but this, I say,
that it is done by the free choice of the mind, pursuino- its own
ends, and that, therefore, these species of mixed modes, are the
workmanship of the understanding- ; and there is nothino- more
evident, than that, for the most part, in the framing these ideas,
the mind searches not its patterns in nature, nor refers the
ideas it makes to the real existence of things ; but puts such
together, as may best serve its own purposes, without tying
itself to a precise imitation of any thing tliat really exists.

§. 7. But still subservient to the end of language. — But
though these complex ideas, or essences of mixed modes,
depend on the mind, and are made by it with great liberty ; yet
they are not made at random, and jumbled together without
any reason at all. Though these complex ideas be not always
copied from nature, yet they are always suited to the end for which
abstract ideas are made ; and though they be combinations made
of ideas, that are loose enough, and have as little union in them-
selves, as several other, to which the mind never gives a connexion
that combines them into one idea ; yet they are always made for
the convenience of communication, which is the chief end of lan-
guage. The use of language is, by short sounds, to signify, with
ease and dispatch, general conceptions : wherein not only
abundance of particulars may be contained, but also a great variety
of independent ideas collected into one complex one. In the
making, therefore, of the species of mixed modes, men have had
regard only to such combinations as they had occasion to men-
tion one to another. Those they have combined into distinct
complex ideas, and given names to ; whilst others, that in nature
have as near an union, are left loose and unregarded. For to
go no farther than human actions themselves, if they would
make distinct abstract ideas of all the varieties might be
observed in them, the number must be infinite, and the memory
confounded with the plenty, as well as overcharged to little pur-
pose. It suffices, that men make and name so many complex
ideas of these mixed modes, as they find they have occasion to
have names for, in the ordinary occurrence of their aftairs. If
they join to the idea of killing, the idea of father, or mother,
and so make a distinct species from killing a man's son or
neighbour, it is because of the different heinousness of the

A A 4

300 NAMES OF MIXED MODES. Book'i.

crime, and the distinct punishment is due to the murdering a
man's father and mother, different from what ought to be inflicted
on the murder of a son or neighbour ; and, therefore, they find
it necessary to mention it by a distinct name, which is the end
of making that distinct combination. But though the ideas of
mother and daughter, are so differently treated, in reference to
the idea of killing, that the one is joined with it to make a
distinct abstract idea with a name, and so a distinct species,
and the other not ; yet in respect of carnal knowledge, they are
both taken in under incest ; and that still for the same conve-
nience of expressing under one name, and reckoning of one
species, such unclean mixtures, as have a peculiar turpitude
beyond others ; and this, to avoid circumlocutions, and tedious
descriptions.

§. 8. Whereof the intranslatahle words of divers languages arc
a proof. — A moderate skill in different languages, will easily
satisfy one of the truth of this, it being so obvious to observe
great store of words in one language, which have not any that
answer them in another. Which plainly shows, that those of
one country, by their customs and manner of life, have found
occasion to make several complex ideas, and give names to them,
which others never collected into specific ideas. This could
not have happened, if these species were the steady workman-
ship of nature ; and not collections made and abstracted by the
mind, in order to naming, and for the convenience of commu-
nication. The terms of our law, which are not empty sounds,
will hardly find words that answer them in the Spanish or
Italian, no scanty languages ; much less, I think, could any one
translate them into the Caribbee, or Westoe tongues ; and the
versura of the Romans, or corbau of the Jews, have no words in
other languages to answer them ; the reason whereof is plain,
from what has been said. Nay, if we look a little more nearly
into this matter, and exactly compare different languages, we
shall find, that though they have words, which, in translations
and dictionaries, are supposed to answer one another ; yet there
is scarce one* of ten, amongst the names of complex ideas, espe-
cially of mixed modes, that stands for the same precise idea,
which the word does that in dictionaries it is rendered by.
There are no ideas more common, and less compounded, than
the measures of time, extension, and weight, and the Latin
names hora, pes, libra, are, without difficulty, rendered by the
English names, hour, foot, and pound ; but yet there is nothing
more evident, than that the ideas a Roman annexed to these
Latin names, were very far different from those which an
Englishman expresses by those English ones. And if either of

Ch. 5. NAMES OF MIXED MODES. 361

these should make use of the measures that those of the other
language designed by their names, he would be quite out in his
account. These are too sensible proofs to be doubted ; and we
shall find this much more so, in the names of more abstract
and compounded ideas ; such as are the greatest part of those
which make up moral discourses ; whose names, when men come
curiously to compare with those they are translated into, in
other languages, they will find very few of them exactly to corre-
spond in the whole extent of their significations.

§. 9. This shows species to he made for communication. — The
reason why 1 take so particular notice of this, is, that we may
not be mistaken about genera and species, and their essences, as
if they were things regularly and constantly made by nature,
and had a real existence in things ; when they appear, upon a
more wary survey, to be nothing else but an artifice of the un-
derstanding, for the easier signifying such collections of ideas,
as it should often have occasion to communicate by one general
term ; under which, divers particulars, as far forth as they
agreed to that abstract jdea, might be comprehended. And
if the doubtful signification of the word species, may make
it sound harsh to some, that I say the species of mixed
modes are made by the understanding ; yet, I think, it can by
nobody be denied, that it is the mind makes those abstract com-
plex ideas, to which specific names are given. And if it be
true, as it is, that the mind makes the patterns for sorting and
naming of things, I leave it to be considered, who makes the
boundaries of the sort or species ; since with me, species and
sort have no other difference than that of a Latin and English
idiom.

§. 10. In mixed modes, it is the name that ties the combination
together, and makes it a species. — The near relation that there
is between species, essences, and their general names, at least
in mixed modes, will farther appear, when we consider, that
it is the name that seems to preserve those essences, and
give them their lasting duration. For the connexion between
the loose parts of those complex ideas, being made by the mind,
this union, which has no particular foundation in nature, would
cease again, were there not something that did, as it were, hold
it together, and keep the parts from scattering. Though, there-
fore, it be the mind that makes the collection, it is the name
which is, as it were, the knot that ties them fast together. What
a vast variety of different ideas, does the word triumphus hold
together, and deliver to us as one species? Had this name been
never made, or quite lost, we migiit no doubt have had descrip-
tions of what passed in that solemnity; but yet, I think, that

362 NAMES OF MIXED MODES. Book 3.

which holds those different parts together, in the unity of one
complex idea, is that very word annexed to it ; without which,
the several parts of that would no more be thought to make one
thing, than any other show, which having never been made but
once, had never been united into one complex idea, under one
denomination. How much, therefore, in mixed modes, the unity
necessary to any essence depends on the mind ; and how much
the continuation and fixing of that unity depends on the name
in common use annexed to it, I leave to be considered by those
who look upon essences and species as real established things
in nature.

§. 11. Suitable to this, we find, that men, speaking of mixed
modes, seldom imagine or take any other for species of them,
but such as are set out by name : because they being of man's
making only in order to naming, no such species are taken
notice of, or supposed to be, unless a name be joined to it, as
the sign of man's having combined into one idea several loose
ones ; and by that name, giving a lasting union to the parts,
which could otherwise cease to have any, as soon as the mind
laid by that abstract idea, and ceased actually to think on it.
But when a name is once annexed to it, wherein the parts of
that complex idea have a settled and permanent union ; then is
the essence, as it were, established, and the species looked on
as complete. For to what purpose should the memory charge
itself with such compositions, unless it were by abstraction to
make them general ? And to what purpose make them general,
unless it were, that they might have general names, for the con-
venience of discourse and communication ? Thus we see, that
killing a man with a sword, or a hatchet, are looked on as no
distinct species of action : but if the point of the sword first
enter the body, it passes for a distinct species, where it has a
distinct name, as in England, in whose language it is called
stabbing : but in another country, where it has not happened to
be specified under a peculiar name, it passes not for a distinct
species. But in the species of corporeal substances, though
it be the mind that makes the nominal essence ; yet since those
ideas, which are combined in it, are supposed to have an union
in nature, whether the mind joins them or no, therefore those
are looked on as distinct names, without any operation of the
mind, either abstracting, or giving a name to that complex
idea.

§. 12. For the originals of mixed modes, we look no farther
than the mind, ivhich also shows them to be the workmanship of
the understanding . — Conformable also to what has been said con-
cerning the essences of the species of mixed modes, that they

Ch. 5. NAMES OF MIXED MODES. 3«3

are the creatures of the understanding, rather than the works of
nature: conformable, I say, to this, we find, that their names
lead our thoiii^hts to the mind, and no farther. When we speak
of justice, or gratitude, we frame to ourselves no imagination of
any thing existing, which we would conceive ; but our thoughts
terminate in the abstract ideas of those virtues, and look not
farther ; as they do, when we speak of a horse, or iron, whose
specific ideas we consider not as barely in the mind, but as in
things themselves, which afford the original patterns of those
ideas. But in mixed modes, at least the most considerable
parts of them, which are moral beings, we consider the original
patterns as being in the mind ; and to those we refer for the
distinguishing of particular beings under names. And hence I
think it is, that these essences of the species of mixed modes,
are, by a more particular name, called notions : as by a peculiar
right appertaining to the understanding.

§. 13. Their being made hij the understanding without pat-
terns, shows the reason wlty they are so compounded. — Hence
likewise we may learn, why the complex ideas of mixed modes
are commonly more compounded and decompounded, than those
of natural substances. Because they being the workmanship of
the understanding, pursuing only its own ends, and the con-
veniency of expressing in short those ideas it would make known
to another, it does, with great ability, unite often into one abstract
idea, things that in their nature have no coherence ; and so
under one term, bundle together a great variety of compounded
and decompounded ideas. Thus the name of procession, what
a great mixture of independent ideas of persons, habits, tapers,
orders, motions, sounds, does it contain in that complex one,
which the mind of man has arbitrarily put together, to express
by that one name ? Whereas the complex ideas of the sorts of
substances, are usually made up of only a small number of
simple ones ; and in the species of animals, these two, viz. shape
and voice, commonly make the whole nominal essence.

§. 14. Names of mixed modes stand always for their real
essences. — Another thing we may observe from what has been
said, is, that the names of mixed modes always signify (when
they have any determined signification) the real essences of
their species. For these abstract ideas, being the workmanship
of the mind, and not referred to the real existence of things,
there is no supposition of any thing more signified by that
name, but barely that complex idea the mind itself has formed,
which is all it would have expressed by it ; and is that on
which all the properties of the species depend, and from which
alone they all flow : and so in these, the real and nominal essence

364 NAMES OF MIXED MODES. Book 3.

is the same; which of what concernment it is to the certain
-knowledge of general truth, we shall see hereafter.

§. 15. Why their names are generally got hefore their ideas. —
This also may show us the reason, why for the most part the
names of mixed modes are got, before the ideas they stand for
are perfectly known. Because there being no species of these
ordinarily taken notice of, but what have names ; and those
species, or rather their essences, being abstract complex ideas
made arbitrarily by the mind, it is convenient, if not necessary,
to know the names, before one endeavour to frame these com-
plex ideas : unless a man will fill his head with a company of
abstract complex ideas, which others having no names for, he
has nothing to do with, but to lay by, and forget again. I con-
fess, that in the beginning of languages, it was necessary to have
the idea, before one gave it the name : and so it is still, where
making a new complex idea, one also, by giving it a new name,
makes a new word. But this concerns not languages made,
which have generally pretty well provided for ideas, which men
have frequently occasion to have, and communicate : and in such,
I ask, whether it be not the ordinary method, that children learn
the names of mixed modes, before they have their ideas ? What
one of a thousand ever frames the abstract ideas of glory and
ambition, before he has heard the names of them ? In simple
ideas and substances, I grant it is otherwise ; which being such
ideas as have a real existence and union in nature, the ideas and
names are got one before the other, as it happens.

§. 16. Reason of my being so large on this subject. — What has
been said here of mixed modes, is, with very little difference,
applicable also to relations ; which, since every man himself
may observe, I may spare myself the pains to enlarge on :
especially, since what I have here said concerning words in this
third book, will possibly be thought by some to be much more
than what so slight a subject required. I allow, it might be
brought into a narrower compass : but I was willing to stay my
reader on an argument that appears to me new, and a little out
of the way (I am sure it is one I thought not of, when I began
to write) ; that by searching it to the bottom, and turning it on
every side, some part or other might meet with every one's
thoughts, and give occasion to the most averse, or negligent, to
reflect on a general miscarriage ; which, though of great con-
sequence, is little taken notice of. When it is considered, what
a pudder is made about essences, and how much all sorts of
knowledge, discourse, and conversation, are pestered and dis-
ordered by the careless and confused use and application of
words, it will, perhaps, be thought worth while thoroughly to

Ch. 0. NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. 365

lay it open. And I shall be pardoned if I have dwelt long on
an argument which, I think, therefore, needs to be inculcated ;
because the faults men are usually guilty of in this kind, are
not only the greatest hindrances of true knowledo-e ; but are so
well thought of, as to pass for it. Men would often see what
a small pittance of reason and truth, or possibly none at all is
mixed with those huffing opinions they are swelled with • if thev
would but look beyond fashionable sounds, and observe what
ideas are, or are not, comprehended under those words, with
which they are so armed at all points, and with which they so
confidently lay about them. I shall imagine I have done some
service to truth, peace, and learning, if, by an enlargement on
this subject, I can make men reflect on their own use of
language ; and give them reason to suspect, that since it is
frequent for others, it may also be possible for them, to have
sometimes very good and approved words in their mouths, and
writings, with very uncertain, little, or no signification. And
therefore, it is not unreasonable for them to be wary herein
themselves, and not to be unwilling to have them examined by
others. With this design, therefore, I shall go on with what
1 have farther to say, concerning this matter.

CHAPTER VI.

OF THE NAMES OF SUBSTANCES.

§. 1. The common names of substances stand for sorts. — The
common names of substances, as well as other general terms,
stand for sorts ; which is nothing else but the being made signs
of such complex ideas, wherein several particular substances do,
or might, agree, by virtue of which, they are capable of being-
comprehended in one common conception, and signified by one
name. I say, do or might agree : for though there be but one
sun existing in the world, yet the idea of it being abstracted, so
that more substances (if there were several) might each agree
in it ; it is as much a sort, as if there were as many suns as there
are stars. They want not their reasons, who think there are,
and that each fixed star would answer the idea the name sun
stands for, to one who was placed in a due distance ; which,
by the way, may show us how much the sorts, or, if you please,
genera and species of things (for those Latin terms signify to
me no more than the English word sort), depend on such col-
lections of ideas as men have made ; and not on the real nature
of things : since it is not impossible, but that, in propriety of
speech, that might be a sun to one, which is a star to another.

ii66 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. ^00^8.

§. 2. The essence of each sort is the nhstract idea. — The
measure and boundary of each sort, or species, whereby it is
constituted that particular sort, and distinguished from others,
is that we call its essence, which is nothing but that abstract
idea to which the name is annexed : so that every thing con-
tained in that idea, is essential to that sort. This, though it be
all the essence of natural substances that we know, or by which
we distinguish them into sorts ; yet I call it by a peculiar name,
the nominal essence, to distinguish it from that real constitution
of substances, upon which depends this nominal essence, and
all the properties of that sort, which, therefore, as has been said,
may be called the real essence : v. g. the nominal essence of
gold, is that complex idea the word gold stands for, let it be,
for instance, a body yellow, of a certain weight, malleable,
fusible, and fixed. But the real essjence, is the constitution of
the insensible parts of that body, on which those qualities, and
all the other propertiesof gold, depend. How far these two are
different, though they are both called essence, is obvious, at
first sight, to discover.

§. 3. The nominal and real essence different. — For though,
perhaps, voluntary motion, with sense and reason, joined to a
body of a certain shape, be the complex idea to which I, and
others, annex the name man ; and so be the nominal essence of
the species so called ; yet nobody will say, that that complex
idea is the real essence and source of all those operations, which
are to be found in any individual of that sort. The foundation
of all those qualities, which are the ingredients of our complex
idea, is something quite different : and had we such a knowledge
of that constitution of man, from which his faculties of moving,
sensation, and reasoning, and other powers flow, and on which
his so regular shape depends, as it is possible angels have, and
it is certain his Maker has, we should have a quite other idea
of his essence, than what now is contained in our definition of
that species, be it what it will : and our idea of any individual
man would be as far different from what it is now, as is his
who knows all the springs and wheels, and other contrivances
"within, of the famous clock at Strasburg, from that which a
gazing countryman has of it, who barely sees the motion of the
hand, and hears the clock strike, and observes only some of the
outward appearances.

§. 4. Nothing essential to individuals. — That essence, in the
ordinary use of the word, relates to sorts, and that it is con-
sidered in particular beings no farther than, as they are ranked
into sorts, appears from hence ; that take but away the abstract
ideas, by which we sort individuals, and rank them under com-

Ch.6. NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. 3G7

mon names, and then the thought of any thing essential to any
of them, instantly vanishes; we have no notion of the one,
without the other ; which plainly shows their relation. It is
necessary for me to be as I am ; God and nature has made me
so ; but there is nothing I have is essential to me. An accident,
or disease, may very much alter my colour, or shape ; a fever,
or fall, may take away my reason, or memory, or both ; and an
apoplexy, leave neither sense nor understanding, no, nor life.
Other creatures of my shape may be made wdth more and
better, or fewer and worse, faculties than I have ; and others
may have reason and sense in a shape and body very different
from mine. Neither of these are essential to the one, or the other,
or to any individual whatsoever, till the mind refers it to some
sort or species of things ; and then presently, according to the
abstract idea of that sort, something is found essential. Let
any one examine his own thoughts, and he will find, that as soon
as he supposes or speaks of essential, the consideration of
some species, or the complex idea signified by some general
name, comes into his mind ; and it is in reference to that, that
this or that quality is said to be essential. So that if it be
asked, whether it be essential to me, or any other particular
corporeal being, to have reason ? I say no ; no more than it is
essential to this white thing I write on, to have words in it. But
if that particular being be to be counted of the sort man, and
to have the name man given it, then reason is essential to it,
supposing reason to be a part of the complex idea the name
man stands for : as it is essential to this thing I write on to
contain words, if I will give it the name treatise, and rank it
under that species. So that essential, and not essential, relate
only to our abstract ideas, and the names annexed to them ; which
amounts to no more but this, that whatever particular thing has
not in it those qualities, which are contained in the abstract ideas,
which any general terms stand for, cannot be ranked under that
species, nor be called by that name, since that abstract idea is
the very essence of that species.

§. 5. Thus, if the idea of body, with some people, be bare
extension or space, then solidity is not essential to body; if
others make the idea to which they give the name body, to be
solidity and extension, then solidity is essential to body. That,
therefore, and that alone, is considered as essential, which makes
a part of the complex idea the name of a sort stands for, without
which, no particular thing can be reckoned of that sort, nor be en-
titled to that name. Should there be found a parcel of matter that
had all the other qualities that are in iron, but wanted obedi-
ence to the loadstone ; and would neither be drawn by it, nor

:i68 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. Book 2.

receive direction from it, would any one question, whether it
wanted any thing essential ? It would be absurd to ask,
whether a thing really existing, wanted any thing essential to it?
Or could it be demanded, whether this made an essential or
specific difference, or no ; since we have no other measure of
essential or specific, but our abstract ideas ? And to talk of
specific differences in nature, without reference to general ideas
and names, is to talk unintelligibly. For I would ask any one,
what is sufficient to make an essential difference in nature, between
any two particular beings, without any regard had to some abstract
idea, which is looked upon as the essence and standard of a
species? All such patterns and standards, being quite laid aside,
particular beings, considered barely in themselves, will be found
to have all their qualities equally essential ; and every thing, in
each individual, will be essential to it, or, which is more,
nothing at all. For though it may be reasonable to ask,
whether obeying the magnet, be essential to iron? yet, I think,
it is very improper and insignificant to ask, whether it be
essential to the particular parcel of matter I cut my pen with,
without considering it under the name iron, or as being of
a certain species ? And if, as has been said, our abstract
ideas, which have names annexed to them, are the boundaries
of species, nothing Can be essential but what is contained in
those ideas.

§. 6. It is true, I have often mentioned a real essence,
distinct in substances, from those abstract ideas of them, which
I call their nominal essence. By this real essence, I mean,
that real constitution of any thing, which is the foundation of
all those properties that are combined in, and are constantly
found to co-exist with, the nominal essence ; that particular
constitution which every thing has within itself, without any
relation to any thing without it. But essence, even in this
sense, relates to a sort, and supposes a species : for being that
real constitution on which the properties depend, it necessarily
supposes a sort of things, properties belonging only to species,
and not to individuals ; v. g. supposing the nominal essence
of gold, to be body of such a peculiar colour and weight, with
malleability and fusibility, the real essence is that constitution
of the parts of matter, on which these qualities, and their union,
depend ; and is also the foundation of its solubility in agua
regia, and other properties accompanying that complex idea.
Here are essences and properties, but all upon supposition of
a sort, or general abstract idea, which is considered as immu-
table : but there is no individual parcel of matter, to which any
of these qualities are so annexed, as to be essential to it, «r

Ch. 6. NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. 36J>

inseparable from it. Indeed, as to the real essences of sub-
stances, we only suppose their being, without precisely knowing
what they are : but that which annexes them still to the species,
is the nominal essence, of which they are the supposed foun-
dation and cause.

§. 7. The nominal essence hounds the species. — The next thing
to be considered is, by which of those essences it is, that
substances are determined into sorts, or species ; and that, it is.
evident, is by the nominal essence. For it is that alone, that
the name, which is the mark of the sort, signifies. It is impos-
sible, therefore, that any thing should determine the sorts of
things, which we rank under general names, but that idea, which
that name is designed as a mark for ; which is that, as has been
shown, which we call nominal essence. Why do we say,
this is a horse, and that a mule ; this is an animal, that an herb ?
How comes any particular thing to be of this or that sort, but
because it has that nominal essence, or, which is all one, agrees
to that abstract idea, that name is annexed to .' And I desire
any one but to reflect on his own thoughts, when he hears or
speaks any of those, or other names of substances, to know
what sort of essences they stand for.

§. 8. And that the species of things to us, are nothing but
the rankino- them under distinct names, according; to the
complex ideas in us, and not according to precise, distinct,
real essences in them, is plain from hence, that we find many
of the individuals that are ranked into one sort, called by
one common name, and so received as being of one species,
have yet qualities depending on their real constitutions, as far
different one from another, as from others, from which they are
accounted to differ specifically. This, as it is easy to be
observed by all who have to do with natural bodies ; so
chemists especially are often, by sad experience, convinced of
it, when they sometimes in vain seek for the same qualities
in one parcel of sulphur, antimony, or vitriol, which they have
found in others. For though they are bodies of the same
species, having the same nominal essence, under the same name;
yet do they often, upon severe ways of examination, betray
qualities so different one from another, as to frustrate the
expectation and labour of very wary chemists. But if things
were distinguished into species, according to their real essences,
it would be as impossible to find different properties in
any two individual substances of the same species, as it
is to find different properties in two circles, or two equi-
lateral triangles. That is properly the essence to us, which
determines every particular to this or that classis ; or,

B H

370 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. BookZ.

which is the same thing, to this or that general name :
and what can that be else, but that abstract idea to which
that name is annexed ? And so has, in truth, a reference,
not so much to the being of particular things, as to their
general denominations.

§. 9. Not the ?eal essence, luhich ive knoiv not. — Nor indeed
can we rank and sort things, and consequently (which is the
end of sorting) denominate them by their real essences, because
we know them not. Our faculties carry us no farther towards
the knowledge and distinction of substances, than a collection
of those sensible ideas, which we observe in them ; which
however made with the greatest diligence and exactness we are
capable of, yet is more remote from the true internal consti-
tution, from which those qualities flow, than, as I said, a
countryman's idea is from the inward contrivance of that
famous clock at Strasburgh, whereof he only sees the outward
fio-ure and motions. There is not so contemptible a plant or
animal, that does not confound the most enlarged understanding.
Thouoh the familiar use of things about us, take off our wonder,
yet it cures not our ignorance. When we come to examine the
stones we tread on, or the iron we daily handle, we presently
find we know not their make ; and can give no reason of the
different qualities we find in them. It is evident, the internal
constitution, whereon their properties depend, is unknown to
us. For to go no farther than the grossest and most obvious we
can imao-ine amongst them, what is that texture of parts, that
real essence, that makes lead and antimony fusible ; wood and
stones not? What makes lead and iron malleable ; antimony
and stones not? And yet how infinitely these come short of the
fine contrivances, and unconceivable real essences of plants or
animals, every one knows. The workmanship of the all-wise
and powerful God, in the great fabric of the universe, and
every part thereof, farther exceeds the capacity and compre-
hension of the most inquisitive and intelligent man, than the
best contrivance of the most ingenious man, doth the con-
ceptions of the most ignorant of rational creatures. There-
fore, we in vain pretend to range things into sorts, and dis-
pose them into certain classes, under names, by their real
essences, that are so far from our discovery or comprehension.
A blind man may as soon sort things by their colours ; and he
that has lost his smell, as well distinguish a lily and a rose by
their odours, as by those internal constitutions which he knows
not. He that thinks he can distinguish sheep and goats by their
real essences, that are unknown to him, may be pleased to try
his skill in those species, called cassiowary, and querechinchio;
and by their internal real essences, determine the boundaries of

Ch. 6. NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. 371

those species, without knowing the complex idea of sensible
qualities, that each of those names stand for, in the countries
where those animals are to be found.

§. 10. Not substantial forms, tvliich we know less. — Those
therefore who have been taught, that the several species of
substances had their distinct, internal, substantial forms ; and
that it was those forms which made the distinction of substances
into their true species and genera, were led yet farther out of the
way, by having their minds set upon fruitless enquiries after
substantial forms, wholly unintelligible, and whereof we have scarce
so much as any obscure or confused conceptionin general.

§. 11. That the nominal essence is that whereby we distinguish
species, farther evident from spirits. — That our rankino- and
distinguishing natural substances into species, consists in the
nominal essences the mind makes, and not in the real essences
to be found in the things themselves, is farther evident
from our ideas of spirits. For the mind getting, only by
reflecting on its own operations, those simple ideas which it
attributes to spirits, it hath, or can have, no other notion of
spirit, but by attributing all those operations it finds in itself,
to a sort of beings, without consideration of matter. And even
the most advanced notion we have of God, is but attributino-
the same simple ideas which we have got from reflection on what
we find in ourselves, and which we conceive to have more
perfection in them, than would be in their absence, attributino-,
I say, those simple ideas to him in an unlimited degTee. Thus
having got from reflecting on ourselves, the idea of existence,
knowledge, power, and pleasure, each of which we find it better
to have than to want ; and the more we have of each, the better •
joining all these together, with infinity to each of them, we
have the complex idea of an eternal, omniscient, omnipotent,
infinitely wise, and happy Being. And though we are told, that
there are different species of angels; yet we know not how to
frame distinct specific ideas of them ; not out of any conceit,
that the existence of more species than one of spirits, is impos-
sible : but because having no more simple ideas (nor beino- able
to frame more) applicable to such beings, but only those few
taken from ourselves, and from the actions of our own minds in
thinking, and being delighted, and moving several parts of our
bodies, we tan no otherwise distinguish in our conceptions the
several species of spirits, one from another, but by attributino-
those operations and powers, we find in ourselves, to them in a
higher or lower degree ; and so have no very distinct specific
ideas of spirits, except only of God, to whom we attribute both
duration, and all those other ideas with infinity ; to the other

B B 2

372 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. Book 3.

spirits, with limitation : nor, as I humbly conceive, do we,
between God and them in our ideas, put any difference by any
number of simple ideas, which we have of one, and not of the
other, but only that of infinity. All the particular ideas of
existence, knowledge, will, power, and motion, &:c. being ideas
derived from the operations of our minds, we attribute all of
them to all sorts of spirits, with the difference only of degrees,
to the utmost we can imagine, even infinity, when we would
frame, as w ell as we can, an idea of the first Being ; who yet, it
is certain, is infinitely more remote in the real excellency
of his nature, from the highest and most perfect of all created
beings, than the greatest man, nay, purest seraph, is from
the most contemptible part of matter ; and consequently must
infinitely exceed what our narrow understandings can conceive
of him.

§. 12. Whereof there are probably numberless species. — It is
not impossible to conceive, nor repugnant to reason, that there
may be many species of spirits, as much separated and diver-
sified one from another, by distinct properties, whereof we
have no ideas, as the species of sensible things are distinguished
one from another, by qualities, which we know, and observe in
them. That there should be more species of intelligent crea-
tures above us, than there are of sensible and material below us, is
probable to me from hence, that in all the visible corporeal w^orld,
we see no chasms or gaps. All quite down from xis, the descent is
by easy steps, andacontinuedseriesof things, that in each remove
differ veiy little one from the other. There are fishes that have
wino-s, and are not strangers to the airy region : and there are
some birds, that are inhabitants of the water, whose blood is
cold as fishes, and their flesh so like in taste, that the scru-
pulous are allowed them, on fish-days. There are animals so
near of kin both to birds and beasts, that they are in the middle
between both : amphibious animals link the terrestrial and
aquatic together; seals live at land and at sea, and porpoises
have the warm blood and entrails of a hog, not to mention what
is confidently reported of mermaids, or seamen. There are some
brutes, that seem to have as much knowledge and reason, as
some that are called men : and the animal and vegetable
kino'doms are so nearly joined, that if you will take the lowest
of one, and the highest of the other, there will scarce be
perceived any great difference between them ; and so on, till we
come to the lowest and the most inorganical parts of matter,
Ave shall find eveiy where, that the several species are linked
too-ether, and differ but in almost insensible degrees. And
when we consider the infinite power and wisdom of the Maker,

CA. 6. NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. 3:s

we have reason to think, that it is suitable to the magnificent
harmony of the miiverse, and the great design and infinite good-
aiess of the architect, that the species of creatures shouhl also,
by gentle degrees, ascend upward from us, toward his infinite
perfection, as we see they gradually descend from us downwards^
which if it be probable, we have reason then 1o be persuaded,
that there are far more species of creatures above us, than there
are beneath ; we being in degrees of perfection, much more
remote from the infinite being of God, than we are from the
lowest state of being, and that which ajiproaches nearest to
nothing. And yet of all those distinct species, for the reasons
above said, we have no clear distinct ideas.

§. 13. The nominal essence, that of the species, proved from
water and ice. — But to return to the species of corporeal sub-
stances. If I should ask any one whether ice and water
were two distinct species of things, I doubt not but that I
should be answered in the afl[irmative ; and it cannot be denied,
but he that says, that they are two distinct species, is in the
right. But if an Englishman, bred in Jamaica, who, perhaps,
had never seen nor heard of ice, coming into England in the
winter, find the water he puts in his bason at night, in a great
part frozen in the morning, and not knowing any peculiar name
it had, should call it hardened water ; I ask, whether this would
be a new species to him, difi'erent from water ? And, I think, it
would be answered here, it would not be to him, a new species,
no more than congealed jelly, when it is cold, is a distinct
species from the same jelly, fluid and warm ; or than liquid
gold, in the furnace, is a distinct species from hard gold, in the
hands of a workman. And if this be so, it is plain, that our
distinct species are nothing but distinct complex ideas, with
distinct names annexed to them. It is true, every substance
that exists, has its peculiar constitution, whereon depend those
sensible qualities and powers we observe in it ; but the ranking
of things into species, which is nothing but sorting them under
several titles, is done by us, according to the ideas that we have
of them ; which though suflicientto distinguish them by names;
so that we may be able to discourse of them, when we have
them not present before us ; yet, if we suppose it to be done by
their real internal constitutions, and that things existing are
distinguished by nature into species, by real essences, according
as we distinguish them into species by names, we shall be liable
to great mistakes.

§. 14. Difficulties against a certain number of real essences. —
To distinguish substantial beings into species, according to the
ttsual supposition that there are certain precise essences or forms

« B 3

374 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. JBooA 3.

of things, whereby all the individuals existing, are, by nature,
distinguished into species, these things are necessary.

§. 15. First, To l)e assured, that nature, in the production
of things, always designs them to partake of certain regulated
established essences, which are to be the models of all things to
be produced. This, in that crude sense, it is usually proposed,
would need some better explication, before it can fully be
assented to.

§. 16. Secondly, It would be necessary to know, whether
nature always attains that essence it designs in the production
of things. The irregular and monstrous births, that in divers
sorts of animals have been observed, will always give us reason
to doubt of one, or both, of these.

§. 17. Thirdly, It ought to be determined, whether those
we call monsters, be really a distinct species, according to the
scholastic notion of the word species; since it is certain, that
every thing that exists, has its particular constitution ; and
yet we find, that some of these monstrous productions have few
or none of those qualities, which are supposed to result from,
and accompany, the essence of that species, from whence they
derive their originals, and to which, by their descent, they seem
to belong.

§. 18. Oxir nomi7ial essences of substances, not perfect col-
lections of properties. — Fourthly, The real essences of those
things, which we distinguish into species, and, as so distin-
guished, we name, ought to be known; i. e. we ought to have
ideas of them. But since we are ignorant in these four points,
the supposed real essences of things stand us not in stead for the
distinguishing substances into species.

§. 19. Fifthly, The only imaginable help in this case would be,
that having framed perfect complex ideas of the properties
of things, flowing from their different real essences, we should
thereby distinguish them into species. But neither can this be
done ; for being ignorant of the real essence itself, it is impos-
sible to know all those properties that flow from it, and are so
annexed to it, that any one of them being away, we may cer-
tainly conclude, that that essence is not there, and so the thing
is not of that species. We can never know what are the pre-
cise number of properties depending on the real essence of gold,
any one of which failing, the real essence of gold, and conse-
quently gold, would not be there, unless we knew the real
essence of gold, itself, and by that determined that species.
By the word gold here, 1 must be understood to design a par-
ticular piece of matter ; v. g. the last guinea that was coined.
For if it should stand here in its ordinary signification for that

Ch. 6. NAMKS OF SUBSTANCES. 375

complex idea which I, or any one else, ca.lls gold ; i. e. for the
nominal essence of gold, it would be jargon; so hard is it to
show the various meaning and imperfection of words, when we
have nothing else but words to do it by.

§. 20. By all which it is clear, that our distinguishing sub-
stances into species by names, is not at all founded on their
real essences ; nor can we pretend to range and determine them
exactly into species, according to internal essential differences.

§. 21. But such a collection as our name stands for. — But
since, as has been remarked, we have need of general words,
though we know not the real essences of things ; all we can do,
is to collect such a number of simple ideas, as, by examination,
we find to be united together in things existing, and thereof to
make one complex idea. Which, though it be not the real
essence of any substance that exists, is yet the specific essence
to which our name belongs, and is convertible with it; by which
we may, at least, try the truth of these nominal essences. For
example, there be that say, that the essence of body is extension;
if it be so, we can never mistake in putting the essence of any
thing for the thing itself. Let us then, in discourse, put ex-
tension for body ; and when we would say, that body moves,
let us say that extension moves, and see how ill it will look.
He that should say, that one extension by impulse moves another
extension, would, by the bare expression, sufficiently show the
absurdity of such a notion. The essence of any thing, in respect
of us, is the whole complex idea, comprehended and marked by
that name; and in substances, besides the several distinct simple
ideas that make them up, the confused one of substance, or of
an unknown support and cause of their union, is always a part ;
and, therefore, the essence of body is not bare extension, but an
extended solid thing : and so to say, an extended solid thing
moves, or impels another, is all one, and as intelligible, as to say
body moves or impels. Likewise, to say, that a rational animal
is capable of conversation, is all one, as to say, a man. But no
one will say that rationality is capable of conversation, because
it makes not the whole essence to which we give the name man,

§. 22. Our abstract ideas are to ns the measures of species ;
instance in that of man. — There are creatures in the world, that
have shapes like ours, but are hairy, and want language and
reason. There are naturals amongst us, that have perfectly our
shape, but want reason, and some of them language too. There
are creatures, as it is said {sit fides penes authorem, but there
appears no contradiction that there should be such), that with
lanjjuage and reason, and a shape in other thinos agreeing with
ours, have hairy tails ; others, where the males have no beards,

n B 4

376 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. Book 3.

and others, where the females have. If it be asked, whether
these be all men, or no, all of human species ; it is plain, the
question refers only to the nominal essence ; for those of them
to whoin the definition of the word man, or the complex idea
signified by that name, agrees, are men, and the other not. But
if the enquirj;^ be made concerning the supposed real essence,
and whether the internal constitution and frame of these several
creatures be specifically dilierent, it is wholly impossible for us
to answer, no part of that going into our specific ideas ; only
we have reason to think, that where the faculties, or outward
frame, so nmch differs, the internal constitution is not exactly
the same ; but what difference in the internal real constitution
makes a specific diflference, it is in vain to enquire ; whilst our
measures, of species be, as they are, only our abstract ideas,
which we know ; and not that internal constitution, which makes
no part of them. Shall the difference of hair only on the skin, be
a mark of a different internal specific constitution between a
changeling and a drill, when thev agree in shape, and vv'ant of
reason and speech ? And shall not the want of reason and speech
be a sign to us of different real constitutions and species between
a changeling and a reasonable man ? And so of the rest, if we
pretend that distinction of species or sorts, is fixedly established
by the real frame, and secret constitutions, of things.

§. 23. Species not distingiiished hy generation. — Nor let any
one say, that the power of ])ropagation in animals, by the mixture
of male and female, and in plants, by seeds, keeps the supposed
real species distinct and entire. For granting this to be true,
it would help us in the distinction of the species of things, no
farther than the tribes of animals and vegetables. What must
we do for the rest? But in those too it is not sufficient ; for if
history lie not, women have conceived by drills ; and what real
species, by that measure, such a production will be in nature,
will be a new question; and we have reason to think, that this is
not impossible, since mules and jumarts, the one from the mixture
of an ass and a mare, the other from the mixture of a bull and
a mare, are so frequent in the world. I once saw a creature
that was the issue of a cat and a rat, and had the plain marks of
both about it ; wherein nature appeared to have followed the
pattern of neither sort alone, but to have jumbled them both
together. To which, he that shall add the monstrous produc-
tions that are so frequently to be met with in nature, will find
it hard, even in the race of animals, to determine by the pedi-
gree of what species every animal's issue is ; and be at a loss
about the real essence, which he thinks certainly conveyed by
generation, and has alone a right to the specific name. But

Ch.G. • NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. 377

farther, if the species of animals and plants are to be distin-
guished only by propagation, must I go to the Indies to see the
.sire and dam of the one, and the plant from vvhicli the seed was
gathered, that produced the other, to know whether this be a
tyger, or that, tea ?

§. 24. Not bj/ substantial furms. — Upon the whole matter, it
is evident, that it is their own collections of sensible qualities,
that men make the essences of their several sorts of substances ;
and that their real internal structures are not considered by the
greatest part of men, in the sorting them. Much less were any
substantial forms ever thought on by any, but those who have
in this one part of the world, learned the language of the schools ;
and yet those" ignorant men, who pretend not any insight into
the real essences, nor trouble themselves about substantial forms,
but are content with knowing things one from another, by their
sensible qualities, are often better acquainted with their differ-
ences, can more nicely distinguish them from their uses, and
better know what they expect from each, than those learned
quick-sighted men, who look so deep into them, and talk so
confidently of something more hidden and essential.

§. 25. The specific essences are made by the mind. — But sup-
posing that the real essences of substances were discoverable by
those that would severally apply themselves to that enquiry ;
yet we could not reasonably think, that the ranking of things
under general names, was regulated by those internal real con-
stitutions, or any thing else, but their obvious appearances ;
since languages, in all countries, have been established long
before sciences. So that they have not been philosophers, or
logicians, or such who have troubled themselves about forms
and essences, that have made the general names that are in use
amongst the several nations of men ; but those more or less
comprehensive terms, have, for the most part, in all languages,
received their birth and signification from ignorant and illiterate
people, who sorted and denominated things, by those sensible
qualities they found in them, thereby to signify them, when
absent, to others, whether they had an occasion to mention a
sort, or a particular thing.

§. 26. Therefore very various and uncertain. — Since, then, it
is evident, that we sort and name substances by their nominal,
and not by their real, essences ; the next thing to be considered
is, how, and by whom, these essences come to be made. As to
the latter, it is evident they are made by the mind, and not by
nature ; for were they nature's workmanship, they could not be
so various and different in several men, as experience tells us
they are. For if we will examine it, we shall not find the

378 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. Baok 3.

nominal essence of any one species of substances, in all men
the same ; no not of that, which, of all others, we are the most
intimately acquainted with. It could not possibly be, that the
abstract idea, to which the name man is given, should be dif-
ferent in several men, if it were of nature's making ; and that to
one it should he animal rationale , and to another, animal implume
hipes latis unguihus. He that annexes the name man to a com-
plex idea, made up of sense and spontaneous motion, joined to
a body of such a shape, has, thereby, one essence of the species
man ; and he that, upon farther examination, adds rationality,
has another essence of the species he calls man ; by which
means, the same individual will be a true man to the one, which
is not so to the other. I think, there is scarce any one will
allow this upright figure, so well known, to be the essential
difference of the species man ; and yet how far men determine
of the sorts of animals, rather by their shape than descent, is
very visible ; since it has been more than once debated, whether
several human fcEtuses should be preserved, or received to
baptism, or no, only because of the difference of their outward
configuration, from the ordinary make of children, without
knowing whether they were not as capable of reason, as infants
cast in another mould ; some whereof, though of an approved
shape, are never capable of as much appearance of reason, all
their lives, as is to be found in an ape or an elephant ; and
never give any signs of being actuated by a rational soul.
Whereby it is evident, that the outward figure, which only was
found wanting, and not the faculty of reason, which nobody
could know would be wanting in its due season, was made
essential to the human species. The learned divine and lawyer,
must, on such occasions, renounce his sacred definition of
animal rationale, and substitute some other essence of the
human species. Monsieur Menage furnishes us with an example
worth the taking notice of on this occasion, "When the Abbot
of St. Martin," says he, " was born, he had so little of the
figure of a man, that it bespake him rather a monster. It was
for some time under deliberation, whether he should be baptized
or no. However, he was baptized, and declared a man provi-
sionally [till time should show what he would prove]. Nature
had moulded him so untowardly, that he was called all his life,
the Abbot Malotru, i. e. ill-shaped. He was of Caen. Mena-
giana^^o-" This child, we see, was very near being excluded out
of the species of man, barely by his shape. He escaped very
narrowly as he was, and it is certain, a figure a little more oddly
turned had cast him, and he had been executed as a thing not to
be allowed to pass for a man. And yet there can be no reason

Ch. 6. NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. 379

given, why, if the lineaments of his face had been a little
altered, a rational soul could not have been lodged in him, why
a visage somewhat longer, or a nose flatter, or a wider mouth,
could not have consisted, as well as the rest of his ill figure,
with such a soul, such parts, as made him, disfigured as he was,
capable to be a dignitary in the church.

§. 27. Wherein, then, would I gladly know, consists the pre-
cise and unmoveable boundaries of that species ? It is plain, if
we examine, there is no such thing made by nature, and esta-'
blished by her amongst men. The real essence of that, or any
other sort of substances, it is evident we know not ; and there-
fore are so undetermined in our nominal essences, which we
make ourselves, that if several men were to be asked, concernino-
some oddly shaped foetus, as soon as born, whether it were a
man, or no ? it is past doubt, one should meet with different
answers. Which could not happen, if the nominal essences,
whereby we limit and distinguish the species of substances, were
not made by man, with some liberty; but were exactly copied
from precise boundaries set by nature, whereby it distinguished
all substances into certain species. Who would undertake to
resolve, what species that monster was of, which is mentioned
by Licetus, lib. i, c. 3, with a man's head, and hog's body ? Or
those other, which to the bodies of men, had the heads of beasts,
as dogs, horses, &c. If any of these creatures had lived, and
could have spoke, it would have increased the difficulty. Had
the upper part, to the middle, been of human shape, and all below,
swine; had it been murder to destroy it? Or must the bishop
have been consulted, w^hether it were man enough to be admitted
to the font, or no ? as I have been told, it happened in France
some years since, in somewhat a like case. So uncertain are
the boundaries of species of animals to us, who have no other
measures than the complex ideas of our own collecting ; and so
far are we from certainly knowing what a man is ; though, perhaps,
it will be judged great ignorance to make any doubt about it.
And yet, I think, I may say, that the certain boundaries of that
species, are so far from being determined, and the precise number
of simple ideas, which make the nominal essence, so far from
being settled, and perfectly known, that very material doubts
may still arise about it ; and, I imagine, none of the definitions
of the word man, which we yet have, nor descriptions of that
sort of animal, are so perfect and exact, as to satisfy a considerate
inquisitive person ; much less to obtain a general consent, and
to be that which men would everywhere stick by, in the decision
of cases, and determining of life and death, baptism or no bap-
tism, iu productions that might happen.

380 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. Book 3.

§. 28. But not so arbitrary as mixed 7nodes. — But though these
nominal essences of substances are made by the mind, they are
not yet made so arbitrarily as those of mixed modes. To the
making of any nominal essence, it is necessary. First, That the
ideas Avhereof it consists, have such an union as to make but
one idea, how compounded soever. Secondly, That the particular
ideas so united, be exactly the same, neither more nor less. For
if two abstract complex ideas differ either in number of sorts
of their component parts, they make two different, and not one
and the same essence. In the first of these, the mind, in making
its complex ideas of substances, only follows nature ; and puts
none together, which are not supposed to have an union in
nature. Nobody joins the voice of a sheep, with the shape of
a horse ; nor the colour of lead, with the weight and fixedness
of gold, to be the complex ideas of any real substances ; unless
he has a mind to fill his head with chimeras, and his discourse
with unintelligible words. Men observing certain qualities
always joined and existing together, therein copied nature ; and
of ideas so united, made their complex ones of substances.
For though men may make what complex ideas they please, and
^ive what names to them they will; yet if they will be under-
stood, when they speak ©f things really existing, they must, in
some degree, conform their ideas to the things they would speak
of; or else men's language will be like that of Babel ; and every
man's words being intelligible only to himself, would no longer
serve to conversation, and the ordinary affairs of life, if the ideas
they stand for be not some way answering the common appear-
ances and agreement of substances, as they really exist.

§. 29. Though very imperfect. — Secondly, Though the mind
of man, in making its complex ideas of substances, never puts
any together that do not really, or are not supposed to, co-exist;
and so it truly borrows that union from nature ; yet the number
it combines, depends upon the various care, industry, or fancy
of him that makes it. Men generally content themselves with
some few sensible obvious qualities ; and often, if not always,
leave out others as material, and as firmly united, as those that
they take. Of sensible substances, there are two sorts ; one of
organized bodies, which are propagated by seed; and in these,
the shape is that, which to us is thfe leading quality, and most
characteristical part, that determines the species ; and therefore
in vegetables and animals, an extended solid substance of such
a certain figure usually serves the turn. For however some men
seem to prize their definition of animal rationale, yet should
there a creature be found, that had language and reason, but
partook not of the usual shape of a man, I believe it would

Ch. 6. NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. 381

hardly pass for a man, how much soever it were animal rationale.
And if Balaam's ass liad, all his life, discoursed as rationally as
he did once with his master, I doubt yet, whether any one would
have thought him worthy the name man, or allowed him to be
of the same species with himself. As in vegetables and animals,
it is the shape ; so in most other bodies, not propagated by
seed, it is the colour we most fix on, and are most led by. Thus
where we find the colour of gold, we are apt to imagine all the
other qualities, comprehended in our complex idea, to be there
also ; and we commonly take these two obvious qualities, viz.,
shape and colour, for so presumptive ideas of several species,
that in a good picture, we readily say, this is a lion, and that a
rose ; this is a gold, and that a silver, goblet, only by the
different figures and colours represented to the eye by the pencil.
§. 30. Which yet serve for common converse. — But though
this serves well enough for gross and confused conceptions, and
inaccurate ways of talking and thinking ; yet men are far enough
from having agreed on the precise number of simple ideas or
qualities, belonging to any sort of things, signified by its name.
Nor is it a wonder, since it requires much time, pains, and skill,
strict enquiry, and long examination, to find out what, and how
many, those simple ideas are, which are constantly and insepa-
rably united in nature, and are always to be found together in the
same subject. Most men wanting either time, inclination, ar
industry, enough for this, even to some tolerable degree, content
themselves with some few obvious and outward appearances of
.things, thereby readily to distinguish and sort them for the
common aftairs of life. And so, without farther examination,
give them names, or take up the names already in use. Which,
though in common conversation they pass well enough for the
signs of some few obvious qualities co-existing, are yet far
enough from comprehending, in a settled signification, a precise
number of simple ideas ; much less all those which are united
in nature. He that shall consider, after so much stir about yenj^s
and species, and such a deal of talk of specific differences, how
few words we have yet settled definitions of, may, with reason,
imagine, that those forms, which there hath been so much noise
made about, are only chimeras, which give us no light into the
specific natures of things. And he that shall consider, how far
the names of substances are from having significations, wherein
all who use them do agree, will have reason to conclude, that
though the nominal essences of substances are all supposed to
be copied from nature, yet they are all, or most of them, very
imperfect. Since the composition of those complex ideas are,
in several men, very different ; and, therefore, that these boun-

38'2 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. Book 3.

daries of species, are as men, and not as nature, makes them, if
at least there are in nature any such prefixed bounds. It is true,
that many particular substances are so made by nature, that they
have agreement and likeness one with another, and so afford a
foundation of being ranked into sorts. But the sorting of things
by us, or the making of determinate species, being in order to
naming and comprehending them under general terms, I cannot
see how it can be properly said, that nature sets the boundaries
of the species of things : or if it be so, our boundaries of
species are not exactly conformable to those in nature. For we
having need of general names for present use, stay not for a
perfect discovery of all those qualities, which would best show
us their most material differences and agreements ; but we our-
selves divide them, by certain obvious appearances, into species,
tliat we may the easier, under general names, communicate our
thoughts about them. For having no other knowledge of any
substance, but of the simple ideas that are united in it ; and
observing several particular things to agree with others, in several
of those simple ideas, v/e make that collection our specific idea,
and give it a general name ; that in recording our thoughts,
and in our discourse with others, we may in one short word
design all the individuals that agree in that complex idea, without
enumerating the simple ideas that make it up ; and so not waste
our time and breath in tedious descriptions ; which we see they
are fain to do, who would discourse of any new sort of things
they have not yet a name for.

§. 31. Essences of species binder the same name, verij different.
— But, however, these species of substances pass well enough in
ordinary conversation, it is plain, that this complex idea, wherein
they observe several individuals to agree, is, by different men,
made very differently ; by some more, and others less, accurately.
In some, this complex idea contains a greater, and in others, a
smaller, number of qualities ; and so is apparently such as the
mind makes it. The yellow shining colour makes gold to
children; others add weight, malleableness, and fusibility ; and
others, yet other qualities, which they find joined with that
yellow colour, as constantly as its weight and fusibility : for in
all these and the like qualities, one has as good a right to be
put into the complex idea of that substance, wherein they are
all joined, as another. And therefore different men leaving out,
or putting in, several simple ideas, which others do not,
according to their various examination, skill, or observation of
that subject, have different essences of gold; which must
therefore be of their own, and not of nature's, making.

§. 32. The more general our ideas are, the more incomplete

Ch.Q. NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. 383

and partial they are. — If the number of simple ideas that make
the nominal essence of the lowest species, or first sorting of
individuals, depends on the mind of man, variously collecting
them, it is much more evident that they do so, in the more com-
prehensive classis, which, by the masters of logic, are called
(jenera. These are complex ideas designedly imperfect : and
it is visible at first sight, that several of those qualities, that are
to be found in the things themselves, are purposely left out of
generical ideas. For as the mind, to make general ideas, compre-
hending several particulars, leaves out those of time and place,
and such other that make them incommunicable to more than
one individual ; so to make other yet more general ideas, that
may comprehend different sorts, it leaves out those qualities
that distinguish them, and puts into its new collection, only
such ideas as are common to several sorts. The same conve-
nience that made men express several parcels of yellow matter
coming from Guinea and Peru, under one name, sets them also
upon making of one name, that may comprehend both gold and
silver, and some other bodies of different sorts. This is done
by leaving out those qualities which are peculiar to each sort ;
and retaining a complex idea made up of those that are common
to them all. To which the name metai being annexed, tliere is
a genus constituted ; the essence whereof being that abstract
idea containing only malleableness and fusibility, with certain
degrees of weight and fixedness, wherein some bodies of several
kinds agree, leaves out the colour, and other qualities peculiar
to gold and silver, and the other sorts comprehended under the
name metal. Whereby it is plain, that men follow not exactly
the patterns set them by nature, when they make their general
ideas of substances ; since there is no body to be found, which
has barely malleableness and fusibility in it, without other
qualities as inseparable as those. But men, in making their
general ideas, seeing more the convenience of language and
quick dispatch, by short and comprehensive signs, than the
true and precise nature of things, as they exist, have, in the
framing their abstract ideas, chiefly pursued that end, which was
to be furnished with store of general and variously compre-
hensive names. So that in this Avhole business of genera an
species, the genus, or more comprehensive, is but a partial
conception of what is in the species, and the species but a
partial idea of what is to be found in each individual. If,
therefore, any one will think, that a man and a horse, and an
animal and a plant, 8cc., are distinguished by real essences
made by nature, he must think nature to be very liberal of these
real essences, making one for body, another for an animal, and

384 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. BookZ,

another for a horse ; and all these essences liberally bestowed
upon Bucephalus. But if we would rightly consider what is
done, in all these genei-a and species or sorts, we should find,
that there is no new thing made, but only more or less compre-
hensive signs, whereby we may be enabled to express, in a few
syllables, great numbers of particular things, as they agree in
more or less general conceptions, which we have framed to that
purpose. In all which, we may observe, that the more general
term, is always the name of a less complex idea ; and that each
(/enus is but a partial conception of the species comprehended
under it. So that if these abstract general ideas be thought to
be complete, it can only be in respect of a certain established
relation between them and certain names, which are made use
of to signify them ; and not in respect of any thing existing,
as made by nature.

§. 33. This all accommodated to the end of speech. — This is
adjusted to the true end of speech, which is to be the easiest
and shortest way of communicating our notions. For thus, he
that would discourse of things, as they agreed in the complex
ideas of extension and solidity, needed but use the word body, to
denote all such. He that to these would join others, signified
by the words life, sense, and spontaneous motion, needed but
use the word animal, to signify all which partook of those ideas :
and he that had made a complex idea of a body, with life, sense,
and motion, with the faculty of reasoning, and a certain shape
joined to it, needed but use the short monosyllable man, to
express all particulars that correspond to that complex idea.
This is the proper business of genus and species; and this men
do, without any consideration of real essences or substantial
forms, which come not within the reach of our knowledge, when
we think of those things ; nor within the signification of our
words, when we discourse with others.

§. 34. Instance in cassuaries. — Were I to talk with any one
of a sort of birds I lately saw in St. James's Park, about three
or four feet high, with a covering of something between feathers
and hair, of a dark brown colour, without wings, but in the
place thereof, two or three little branches, coming down like
sprigs of Spanish broom ; long great legs, with feet only of
three claws, and without a tail ; I must make this description
of it, and so may make others understand me : but when I am
told, that the name of it is cassuaris, I may then use that word
to stand in discourse for all my complex idea mentioned in that
description ; though by that word, which is now become a
specific name, I know no more of the real essence, or consti-
tution, of that sort of animals, than I did before ; and knew

Ch.G. NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. 385

probably as much of the nature of that species of birds, before
I learned the name, as many Englishmen do of swans, or herons,
which are specific names, very well known of sorts of birds
common in England.

§. 35. Me7i determine the sorts. — From what has been said,
it is evident, that men make sorts of things. For it being
different essences alone that make different species, it is plain,
that they who make those abstract ideas, which are the nominal
essences, do thereby make the species, or sort. Should there be
a body found, having all the other qualities of gold, except mal-
leableness, it would, no doubt, be made a question whether it were
gold or no ; i. e. whether it were of that species. This could
be determined only by that abstract idea, to which every one
annexed the name gold : so that it would be true gold to him,
and belong to that species, who included not malleableness in
his nominal essence signified by the sound gold ; and on the
other side, it would not be true gold, or of that species, to him,
who included malleableness in his specific idea. And who, I
pray, is it, that makes these diverse species, even under one and
the same name, but men that make two different abstract ideas,
consisting not exactly of the same collection of qualities ? Nor
is it a mere supposition to imagine, that a body may exist,
wherein the other obvious qualities of gold may be without
malleableness ; since it is certain, that gold itself will be some-
times so eager (as artists call it), that it will as little endure the
hammer, as glass itself. What we have said, of the putting in,
or leaving malleableness out, of the complex idea the name gold
is by any one annexed to, may be said of its peculiar weight,
fixedness, and several other the like qualities : for whatsoever,
is left out, or put in, it is still the complex idea, to which that
name is annexed, that makes the species : and as any particular
parcel of matter answers that idea, so the name of the sort
belongs truly to it ; and it is of that species. And thus any
thing is true gold, perfect metal. All which determination of the
species, it is plain, depends on the understanding of man,
making this or that complex idea.

§. 36. Nature makes the similitude. — This then, in short, is
the case : nature makes many particular things which do agree
one with another, in many sensible qualities, and probably too,
in their internal frame and constitution : but it is not this real
essence that distinguishes them into species ; it is men, who
taking occasion from the qualities they find united in them, and
wherein they observe often several individuals to agree, range
them into sorts, in order to their naming, for the convenience
of comprehensive signs ; under \yhich individuals, according to

c c

386 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. Book 3.

their conformity to this or that abstract idea, come to be ranked,
as under ensigns ; so that this is of the blue, that of the red,
regiment; this is a man, that a drill: and in this, I think,
consists the whole business o^ genus and sjiecies.

§. 37. I do not deny, but nature, in the constant production
of particular beings, makes them not always new and various,
but very much alike, and of kin, one to another : but I think
it nevertheless true, that the boundaries of the species, whereby
men sort them, are made by men ; since the essences of the
species, distinguished by different names, are, as has been
proved, of man's making, and seldom adequate to the internal
nature of the things they are taken from. So that we may
truly say, such a manner of sorting of things, is the workmanship
of men.

§. 38. Each abstract idea is an essence. — One thing I doubt
not but will seem very strange in this doctrine : which is, that
from what has been said, it will follow, that each abstract idea,
with a name to it, makes a distinct species. But who can help
it, if truth will have it so ? For so it must remain, till somebody
can show us the species of things limited and distinguished by
something else : and let us see, that general terms signify not
our abstract ideas, but something different from them. I would
fain know, why a shock and a hound, are not as distinct species,
as a spaniel and an elephant ? We have no other idea of the
different essence of an elephant and a spaniel, than we have of
the different essence of a shock and a hound; all the essential
difference, whereby we know and distinguish them one from
another, consisting only in the different collection of simple
ideas, to which we have given those different names.

§. 39. Genera and species are in order to naming. — How much
the making of species and genera is in order to general names, and
how much general names are necessary, if not to the being, yet at
least to the completing, of a species, and making it pass for such,
will appear, besides what has been said above, concerning ice
and water, in a very familiar example. A silent and a striking
watch, are but one species, to those who have but one name
for them : but he that has the name watch for one, and clock
for the other, and distinct complex ideas, to which those names
belong, to him they are diflerent species. It will be said,
perhaps, that the inv/ard contrivance and constitution is
different between these two, which the watchmaker has a clear
idea of. And yet, it is plain, they are but one species to
him, when he has but one name for them. For what is sufficient
in the inward contrivance, to make a new species ? There are
some watches that are made with four wheels, others with five :

CA. 6. NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. 387

is this a specific difference to the workman ? Some have strings
and physies, and others none ; some have the balance loose,
and others regulated by a spiral spring, and others by hogs'
bristles : are any, or all of these, enough to make a specific
difference to the workman, that knows each for these,
and several other different contrivances, in the internal
constitutions of watches ? It is certain, each of these hath a
real difference from the rest: but whether it be an essential, a
specific, difference, or no, relates only to the complex idea to
which the name watch is given : as long as they all agree in
the idea which that name stands for, and that name does not
as a generical name comprehend different species under it, they
are not essentially nor specifically different. But if any one
will make minuter divisions from differences that he knows in
the internal frame of watches, and to such precise complex
ideas, give names that shall prevail, they will then be new
species to them, who have those ideas with names to them;
and can, by those difierences, distinguish watches into these
several sorts, and then watch will be a generical name. But
yet they would be no distinct species to men, ignorant of clock-
work, and the inward contrivances of watches, who had no
other idea but the outward shape and bulk, with the marking
of the hours by the hand. For to them, all those other names
would be but synonymous terms for the same idea, and sig-
nify no more, nor no other thing, but a watch. Just thus, I
think, it is in natural things. Nobody will doubt, that the
wheels or springs (if I may so say) within, are different in a
rational man, and a changeling, no more than that there is a
difference in the frame between a drill and a changeling. But
whether one or both these differences be essential or specifical,
is only to be known to us, by their agreement or disagreement
with the complex idea that the name man stands for: for by
that alone can it be determined, whether one, or both, or neither
of those, be a man, or no.

§. 40. Species of ariificial things less confused than natural.^
From what has been before said, we may see the reason why, in
the species of artificial things, there is generally less confusion
and uncertainly, than in natural. Because an artificial thing being
a production of man, which the artificer designed, and, there-
fore, well knows the idea of, the name of it is supposed to stand
for no other idea, nor to import any other essence, than what is
certainly to be known, and easy enough to be apprehended.
For the idea, or essence, of the several sorts of artificial things,
consisting, for the most part, in nothing but the determinate
figure of sensible parts ; and sometimes motion depending

c c 2

388 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. Book 3.

thereon, which the artificer fashions in matter, such as he finds
for his turn, it is not beyond the reach of our faculties to at-
tain a certain idea thereof; and to settle the signification of
the names whereby the species of artificial things are distin-
guished, with less doubt, obscurity, and equivocation, than we
can in things natural, whose differences and operations depend
upon contrivances beyond the reach of our discoveries.

§. 41. Artificial things of distinct species. — I must be excused
here, if I think artificial things are of distinct species, as well
as natural ; since I find they are as plainly and orderly ranked
into sorts, by different abstract ideas, with general names an-
nexed to them, as distinct one from another as those of natural
substances. For why should we not think a watch and pistol,
as distinct species one from another, as a horse and a dog, they
being expressed in our minds by distinct ideas, and to others,
by distinct appellations ?

§. 42. Substances alone have proper names. — This is farther
to be observed concerning substances, that they alone, of all
our several sorts of ideas, have particular or proper names,
whereby one only particular thing is signified. Because, in
simple ideas, modes, and relations, it seldom happens that men
have occasion to mention often this or that particular, when it is
-absent. Besides, the greatest part of mixed modes, being
actions which perish in their birth, are not capable of a lasting
duration, as substances, which are the actors ; and wherein the
simple ideas that make up the complex ideas designed by the
name, have a lasting union.

§. 43. Difficulty to treat of wor-ds. — I must beg pardon of my
reader, for having dwelt so long upon this subject, and perhaps
with some obscurity. But I desire it may be considered, how
difficult it is, to lead another by words into the thoughts of things,
stripped of those specifical differences we give them ; which things,
if I name not, I say nothing ; and if I do name them, I thereby
rank them into some sort or other, and suggest to the mind the
usual abstract idea of that species, and so cross my purpose. For
to talk of a man, and to lay by, at the same time, the ordinary
signification of the name man, which is our complex idea,
usually annexed to it; and bid the reader consider man, as he is
himself, and as he is really distinguished from others, in his
internal constitution, or real essence, that is, by something,
he knows not what, looks like trifling ; and yet thus one must
do, who would speak of the supposed real essences and species
of things, as thought to be made by nature, if it be but only to
make it understood, that there is no such thing signified by the
general names which substances are called by. But because it

Ck. 6. NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. 389

is difficult by known familiar names to do this, give me leave to
endeavour by an example, to make the different consideration
the mind has of specific names and ideas, a little more clear ;
and to show how the complex ideas of modes are referred some-
times to archetypes in the minds of other intelligent beings : or,
which is the same, to the signification annexed by others to
their received names ; and sometimes to no archetypes at all.
Give me leave also to show how the mind always refers its ideas
of substances, either to the substances themselves, or to the sig-
nification of their names, as to the archetypes ; and also to make
])lain the nature of specifes, or sorting of things, as appre-
hended, and made use of, by us ; and of the essences be-
longing to those species, which is, perhaps, of more moment,
to discover the extent and certainty of our knowledge, than we
at first imagine.

§. 44. Instances of mixed modes in kinneah and niouph. —
Let us suppose Adam in the state of a grown man, with a good
understanding, but in a strange country, with all things new
and unknown about him ; and no other faculties to attain the
knowledge of them, but what one of this age has now. He
observes Lamech more melancholy than usual, and imagines it
to be from a suspicion he has of his wife Adah (whom he most
ardently loved), that she had too much kindness for another man.
Adam discourses these his thoughts to Eve, and desires her to take
care that Adah commits not folly ; and in these discourses with
Eve, he makes use of these two new words, kinneah and niouph.
In time, Adam's mistake appears, for he finds Lamech's trouble
proceeded from having killed a man ; but yet the two names,
kinneah and niouph; the one standing for suspicion, in a hus-
band, of his wife's disloyalty to him, and the other, for the act
of committing disloyalty ; lost not their distinct significations.
It is plain then, that here were two distinct complex ideas of
mixed modes, with names to them ; two distinct species of
actions, essentially different ; I ask, wherein consisted the
essences of these two distinct species of actions? and it is plain,
it consisted in a precise combination of simple ideas, different
in one from the other, I ask, whether the complex idea in
Adam's mind, which he called kinneah, were adequate or no ?
And it is plain it was; for it being a combination of simple ideas,
which he, without any regard to any archetype, without respect
to any thing as a pattern, voluntarily put together, abstracted,
and gave the name kinneah to, to express in short to others, by
that one sound, all the simple ideas contained and united in that
complex one ; it must necessarily follow, that it was an adequate
idea. His own choice having made that combination, it had al

c c 3

390 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. BookZ.

in it he intended it should, and so could not but be perfect,
could not but be adequate, it being referred to no other arche-
type, which it was supposed to represent.

§, 45, These words, kinneah and niouph, by degrees grew
into common use ; and then the case was somewhat altered.
Adam's children had the same faculties, and thereby the same
power that he had, to make what complex ideas of mixed
modes they pleased in their own minds ; to abstract them, and
make what sounds they pleased, the signs of them; but the
use of names being to make our ideas within us known to others,
that cannot be done, but when the same sign stands for the same
idea in two, who would communicate their thoughts, and
discourse together. Those, therefore, of Adam's children that
found these two words, kinneah and niouph, in familiar use,
could not take them for insignificant sounds ; but must needs
conclude, they stood for something, for certain ideas, abstract
ideas, they being general names, which abstract ideas were the
essences of the species distinguished by those names. If, there-
fore, they would use these words as names of species already
established and agreed on, they were obliged to conform the
ideas in their minds, signified by these names, to the ideas that
they stood for in other men's minds, as to their patterns and
archetypes ; and then, indeed, their ideas of these complex
modes were liable to be inadequate, asbeing very apt (especially
those that consisted of combinations of many simple ideas) not
to be exactly conformable to the ideas in other men's minds,
using the same names ; though for this, there be usually a remedy
at hand, which is, to ask the meaning of any word we under-
stand not, of him that uses it ; it being as impossible to know
certainly what the words jealousy and adultery (which I think
answer Tiiiir) and "jiNJ) stand for in another man's mind, with
whom I would discourse about them ; as it was impossible,
in the beginning of language, to know what kinneah and niouph
stood for in another man's mind, without explication, they being
voluntary signs in every one,

§. 46, Instance of substances in zahah. — Let us now also
consider, after the same manner, the names of substances, in
their first application. One of Adam's children, roving in the
mountains, lights on a glittering substance, which pleases his
eye ; home he carries it to Adam, who, upon consideration of it,
finds it to be hard, to have a bright yellow colour, and an ex-
ceeding great weight. These, perhaps, at first, are all the
qualities he takes notice of in it, and abstracting this complex
idea, consisting of a substance having that peculiar bright
yellowness, and a weight very great in proportion to its bulk.

Ch. 6. NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. 391

he gives it the name zahab, to denominate and mark all sub-
stances that have these sensible qualities in them. It is evident
now, that in this case, Adam acts quite differently from what
he did before, in forming those ideas of mixed modes, to which
he gave the names kinneah and niouph. For there he puts ideas
together, only by his own imagination, not taken from the
existence of any thing ; and to them he gave names to deno-
minate all things that should happen to agree to those his
abstract ideas, without considering whether any such thing did
exist, or no ; the standard there, was of his own making. But
in the forming his idea of this new substance, he takes the quite
contrary course ; here he has a standard made by nature ; and
therefore being to represent that to himself, by the idea he has
of it, even when it is absent, he puts in no simple idea into his
complex one, but what he has the perception of from the thing
itself. He takes care that his idea be conformable to this
archetype, and intends the name should stand for an idea so
conformable.

§. 47. This piece of matter, thus denominated zahab by
Adam, being quite different from any he had seen before,
nobody, I think, will deny to be a distinct species, and to have
its peculiar essence : and that the name zahab has the mark of the
species, and a name belonging to all things partaking in that
essence. But here, it is plain, the essence Adam made the
name zahab stand for, was nothing but a body hard, shining,
yellow, and very heavy. But the inquisitive mind of man,
not content with the knowledge of these, as I may say, su-
perficial qualities, puts Adam on farther examination of this
matter. He therefore knocks and beats it with flints, to see
what was discoverable in the inside ; he finds it yield to blows,
but not easily separate into pieces ; he finds it will bend without
breaking. Is not now ductility to be added to his former idea,
and made part of the essence of the species that name zahab
stands for? Farther trials discover fusibility and fixedness.
Are not they also, by the same reason that any of the others
were, to be put into the complex idea signified by the name
zahab ? If not, what reason will there be shown more for the
one than the other ? If these must, then all the other properties,
which any farther trials shall discover in this matter, ouoht, by
the same reason, to make a part of the ingredients of the com-
plex idea which the name zahab stands for, and so be the es-
sence of the species marked by that name. Which properties,
because they are endless, it is plain, that the idea made after this
fashion by this archetype, will be always inadequate.

§. 48. Their ideas imperfect, and therefore various.— But this

c V. 4

392 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. Book^.

is not all ; it would also follow, that the names of substances
would not only have (as in truth they have), but would also be
supposed to have, different significations, us used by different
men, which would very much cumber the use of language. For
if every distinct quality, that were discovered in any matter by
any one, were supposed to make a necessary part of the complex
idea signified by the common name given it, it must follow, that
men must suppose the same word to signify different things in
different men : since they cannot doubt but different men may
have discovered several qualities in substances of the same
denomination, which others know nothing of.

^. 49. Therefore to fix their species, a real essence is sup-
posed.— To avoid this, therefore, they have supposed a real es-
sence belonging to every species from which these properties
all flow, and would have their name of the species stand for that.
But they not having any idea of that real essence, in substances,
and their words signifying nothing but the ideas they have,
that which is done by this attempt, is only to put the name or
sound in the place and stead of the thing having that real
essence, without knowing what the real essence is ; and this is
that which men do, when they speak of species of things, as
supposing them made by nature, and distinguished by real
essences.

§. 50. Which supposition is of no use. — For let us consider
when we affirm, that all gold is fixed, either it means that fixed-
ness is a part of the definition, part of the nominal essence, the
word gold stands for; and so this affirmation, all gold is fixed,
contains nothing blit the signification of the term gold. Or
else it means, that fixedness not being a part of the definition
of the word gold, is a property of that substance itself; in
which case, it is plain, that the word gold stands in the place
of a substance, having the real essence of a species of things,
ma'de Ly nature. In which way of substitution, it has so con-
fused and uncertain a signification, that though this proposition,
gold is fixed, be in that sense an affirmation of something real ;
yet it is a truth will always fail us in its particular application,
and so is of no real use nor certainty. For let it be ever so true,
that all gold, i. e. all that has the real essence of gold, is
fixed, what serves this for, whilst we know not in this sense,
what is, or is not, gold ; for if we know not the real essence of
gold, it is impossible we should know what parcel of matter has
that essence, and so whether it be true gold or no.

^. 51. Conclusion. — To conclude; what liberty Adam had
at first to make any complex idea of mixed modes, by no other
patterns but his own thoughts, the same have all men ever

Ch. 7. PARTICLES. 393

since had. And the same necessity of conforming his ideas of
substances to things without him, as to archetypes made by
nature, that Adam was under, if he would not wilfully impose
upon himself, the same are all men ever since under too. The
same liberty, also, that Adam had of affixing any new name to
any idea, the same has any one still (especially the beginners
of languages, if we can imagine any such), but only with this
difference, that in places where men in society have already
established a language amongst them, the significations of words
are very warily and sparingly to be altered. Because men being
furnished already with names for their ideas, and common use
having appropriated known names to certain ideas, an affected
misapplication of them cannot but be very ridiculous. He that
hath new notions, will, perhaps, venture sometimes on the
coining of new terms to express them ; but men think it a boldness,
and it is uncertain, whether common use will ever make them
pass for current. But in communication with others, it is ne-
cessary that we conform the ideas we make the vulgar words of
any language stand for to their known proper significations
(which I have explained at large already), or else to make known
that new signification we apply them to.

CHAPTER VII.

OF PARTICLES.

§. 1. Particles connect parts or whole sentences together. —
Besides words, which are names of ideas in the mind, there are
a great many others that are made use of, to signify the con-
nexion that the mind gives to ideas or propositions one with
another. The mind, in communicating its thought to others,
does not only need signs of the ideas it has then before it, but
others also, to show or intimate some particular action of its
own, at that time, relating to those ideas. This it does several
ways ; as, is, and is not, are the general marks of the mind
affirming or denying. But besides afiirmation, or negation,
without which there is in words no truth or falsehood, the mind
does, in declaring its sentiments to others, connect not only the
parts of propositions, but whole sentences one to another, with
their several relations and dependencies, to make a coherent
discourse.

§. 2. In them consists the art of well speaking. — The words,
whereby it signifies what connexion it gives to the several affir-
mations and negations that it imites in one continued reasoning
or narration, are generally called particles; and it is the right

394 PARTICLES. Book 3.

use of these, that more particularly consists the clearness and
beauty of a good style. To think well, it is not enough that a
man has ideas clear and distinct in his thoughts, nor that he
observes the agreement, or disagreement, of some of them : but
he must think in train, and observe the dependence of his
thoughts and reasonings upon one another ; and to express well
such methodical and rational thoughts, he must have words to
show what connexion, restriction, distinction, opposition, em-
phasis, SvC, he gives to each respective part of his discourse.
To mistake in any of these, is to puzzle, instead of informing,
his hearer ; and therefore it is, that those words, which are not
truly, by themselves, the names of any ideas, are of such con-
stant and indispensable use in language, and do much contribute
to men's well expressing themselves.

§. 3. They slioiu what relation the mind gives to its own
thoughts. — This part of grammar has been, perhaps, as much
neglected, as some others over diligently cultivated. It is easy
for men to write one after another, of cases and genders, moods
and tenses, gerunds and supines : in these, and the like, there
has been great diligence used; and particles themselves, in
some languages, have been, with great show of exactness,
ranked into their several orders. But though prepositions and
conjunctions, Scc, are names well known in grammar, and the
particles contained under them carefully ranked into their dis-
tinct subdivisions ; yet he who would show the right use of par-
ticles, and what significancy and force they have, must take a
little more pains, enter into his own thoughts, and observe nicely
the several postures of his mind in discoursing.

§. 4. Neither is it enough, for the explaining of these words,
to render them, as is usual in dictionaries, by words of another
tongue which come nearest to their signification; for what is
meant by them, is commonly as hard to be understood in one, as
another, language. They are all marks of some action or inti-
mation of the mind ; and, therefore, to understand them rightly,
the several views, postures, stands, turns, limitations, and ex-
ceptions, and several other thoughts of the mind, for which we
have either none, or very deficient, names, are diligently to be
studied. Of these, there are a great variety, much exceeding
the number of particles that most languages have to express
them by ; and, therefore, it is not to be wondered, that most of
these particles have divers, and sometimes almost opposite,
significations. In the Hebrew tongue, there is a particle con-
sisting but of one single letter, of which there are reckoned up,
as I remember, seventy, I am sure above fifty, several signi-
fications.

Ch. 8. ABSTRACT AND CONCRETE TERMS. 395

§. 5. Instance in hut. — But, is a particle, none more familiar
in our language; and he that says it is a discretive conjunction,
and that it answers sed in Latin, or mais in French, thinks he
has sufficiently explained it. But it seems to me to intimate
several relations the mind gives to the several propositions or
parts of them, which it joins by this monosyllable.

First, " But to say no more :" here it intimates a stop of the
mind, in the course it was going, before it came quite to the
end of it.

Secondly, " I saw but two plants :" here it shows, that the
mind limits the sense to what is expressed, with a negation of
all other.

Thirdly, " You pray : but it is not that God would bring you
to the true religion."

Fourthly, " But that he would confirm you in your own :" the
first of these buts intimates a supposition in the mind of
something otherwise than it should be ; the latter shows, that
the mind makes a direct opposition between that, and what
goes before it.

Fifthly, " All animals have sense ; but a dog is an animal :" here
it signifies little more, but that the latter proposition is joined
to the former, as the minor of a syllogism.

§. 6. To these, I doubt not, might be added a great many
other significations of this particle, if it were my business to
examine it in its full latitude, and consider it in all the places
it is to be found : which if one should do, I doubt, whether in
all those manners it is made use of, it would deserve the title
of discretive, which grammarians give to it. But I intend not
here a full explication of this sort of signs. The instances I
have given in this one, may give occasion to reflect upon their
use and force in language, and lead us into the contemplation of
several actions of our minds in discoursing, which it has found
a way to intimate to others by these particles, some whereof
constantly, and others in certain constructions, have the sense
of a whole sentence contained in them.

CHAPTER VIII.

OF ABSTRACT AND CONCRETE TERMS.

§. 1. Abstract terms 7iot predicable one of another, andiohy.
— The ordinary words of language, and our common use of
them, would have given us light into the nature of our ideas,
if they had been but considered with attention. The mind, as

3J)C ABSTRACT AND CONCRETE TERMS. Book 3.

has been shown, has a power to abstract its ideas, and so they
become essences, general essences, whereby the sorts of things
are distinguished. Now each abstract idea bein<>; distinct, so
that of any two, the one can never be the other, the mind will,
by its intuitive knowledge, perceive their difference ; and
therefore in propositions, no two whole ideas can ever be
affirmed one of another. This we see in the common use of
language, which permits not any two abstract words, or names
of abstract ideas, to be affirmed one of another. For how near
of kin soever they may seem to be, and how certain soever it is,
that man is an animal, or rational, or white, yet every one, at
first hearing, perceives the falsehood of these propositions ;
humanity is animality, or rationality, or whiteness : and this is
as evident as any of the most allowed maxims. All our affirma-
tions, then, are only inconcrete, which is the affirming, not one
abstract idea to be another, but one abstract idea to be joined
to another ; which abstract ideas, in substances, may be of any
sort ; in all the rest, are little else but of relations ; and in
substances, the most frequent are of powers ; v. g. a man is
white, signifies, that the thing that has the essence of a man,
has also in it the essence of whiteness, which is nothing but a
power to produce the idea of whiteness in one, whose eyes can
discover ordinary objects ; or a man is rational, signifies, that
the same thing that hath the essence of a man, hath also in it
the essence of rationality, i. e. a power of reasoning.

§. 2. They show the difference of our ideas. — This distinction
of names, shows us also the difference of our ideas : for if we
observe them, we shall find, that our simple ideas have all
abstract, as well as concrete, names : the one whereof is (to
speak the language of grammarians) a substantive, the other an
adjective ; as whiteness, white ; sweetness, sweet. The like
also holds in our ideas of modes and relations, as justice,
just ; equality, equal ; only with this difference, that some
of the concrete names of relations, amongst men, chiefly
are substantives ; as paternitas, pater ; whereof it were easy
to render a reason. But as to our ideas of substances, we
have very few or no abstract names at all. For though the
schools have introduced animalitas, humanitas, corporietas, and
some others ; yet they hold no proportion with that infinite
number of names of substances, to which they never were
ridiculous enough to attempt the coining of abstract ones : and
those few that the schools forged, and put into the mouths of
their scholars, could never yet get admittance into common use,
or obtain the license of public approbation. Which seems to
me at least to intimate the confession of all mankind, that they

CL9. IMPERFECTION OF WORDS. 397

have no ideas of the real essences of substances, since they
have not names for such ideas : which no doubt they would
have had, had not their consciousness to themselves of their
ignorance of them, kept them from so idle an attempt. And
therefore, though they had ideas enough to distinguish gold
from a stone, and metal from wood ; yet they but timorously
ventured on such terms, as aurietas and saxietas, metalUetas and
lignietaSf or the like names, which should pretend to signify the
real essences of those substances, whereof they knew they had
no ideas. And, indeed, it was only the doctrine of substantial
forms, and the confidence of mistaking pretenders to a know-
ledge that they had not, which first coined, and then introduced,
animalitas, and hui?ianitas, and the like; which yet went very
little farther than their own schools, and could never get to be
current amongst understanding men. Indeed, humanitas was a
word familiar amongst the Romans ; but in a far different sense,
and stood not for the abstract essence of any substance ; but
was the abstract name of a mode, and its concrete, humanus,
not homo.

CHAPTER IX.

OF THE IMPERFECTION OF WORDS.

§. 1. Words are used for recording and communicating our
thoughts. — From what has been said in the foregoing chapters,
it is easy to perceive what imperfection there is in language,
and how the very nature of words makes it almost unavoidable
for many of them to be doubtful and uncertain in their signifi-
cations. To examine the perfection or imperfection of words,
it is necessary first to consider their use and end : for as they
are more or less fitted to attain that, so are they more or less
perfect. We have in the former part of this discourse, often,
upon occasion, mentioned a double use of words.

First, One for the recording of our own thoughts.

Secondly, The other for the communicating of our thoughts
to others.

§. 2. Any words will serve for recording. — As to the first of
these, for the recording our own thoughts for the help of our
own memories, whereby, as it were, we talk to ourselves, any
words will serve the turn. For since sounds are voluntary and
indifferent signs of any ideas, a man may use what words he
pleases, to signify his own ideas to himself: and there will be
no imperfection in them, if he constantly use the same sign

398 IMPERFECTION OF V/ORDS. Book 3.

for the same idea, for then he cannot fail of having his meaning
understood, wherein consists the right use and perfection of
language.

§. 3. Communication hy tcords civil or pJiilosophical. — As
to communication of words, that too has a double use : 1, civil ;
2, philosophical.

First, By their civil use, I mean such a communication of
thoughts and ideas by words, as may serve for the upholding
common conversation and commerce about the ordinary affairs
and conveniences of civil life, in the societies of men one
amongst another.

Secondly, By the philosophical use of words, I mean such an
use of them as may serve to convey the precise notions of
things, and to express, in general propositions, certain and
undoubted truths, which the • mind may rest upon, and be
satisfied with, in its search after true knowledge. These
two uses are very distinct ; and a great deal less exactness
will serve in the one, than in the other, as we shall see in
what follows.

§. 4. The imperfections of words, is the doubtfulness of their
signification. — The chief end of language in communication
being understood, words serve not well for that end, neither in
civil, nor philosophical, discourse, when any word does not
excite in the hearer the same idea which it stands for in the
mind of the speaker. Now since sounds have no natural
connexion with our ideas, but have all their signification from
the arbitrary imposition of men, the doubtfulness and un-
certainty of their signification, which is the imperfection we
here are speaking of, has its cause more in the ideas they stand
for, than in any incapacity there is in one sound more than in
another, to signify any idea: for in that regard, they are all
equally perfect.

That then which makes doubtfulness and uncertainty in the
signification of some more than other words, is the diflference of
ideas they stand for.

§. 5. Causes of their imperfection. — Words having naturally
no signification, the idea which each stands for, must be learned
and retained by those who would exchange thoughts, and hold
intelligible discourse with others, in any language. But this is
hardest to be done, where.

First, The ideas they stand for are very complex, and made
up of a great number of ideas put together.

Secondly, Where the ideas they stand for have no certain
connexion in nature ; and so no settled standard any where in
nature existing, to rectify and adjust them by.

Ch. 9. IMPERFECTION OF WORDS. 399

Thirdhj, When the signification of the word is referred to
a standard, which standard is not easy to he known.

Fourihhj, Where the signification of the word, and the real
essence of the thing, are not exactly the same.

These are difficulties that attend the signification of several
words that are intelligible. Those which are not intelligible
at all, such as names standing for any simple ideas, which
another has not organs or faculties to attain ; as the names of
colours to a blind man, or sounds to a deaf man, need not here
be mentioned.

In all these cases we shall find an imperfection in words,
which I shall more at large explain, in their particular appli-
cation to our several sorts of ideas : for if we examine them, we
shall find, that the names of mixed modes are most liable to
doubtfulness and imperfection for the tw o first of these reasons ;
and the names of substances chiefly for the two latter.

§. 6. The naines of mixed modes doubtful: firsts because
the ideas they stand for, are so complex. — First, The names of
mixed modes, are many of them liable to great uncertainty and
obscurity in their signification.

1, Because of that great composition these complex ideas are
often made up of. To make words serviceable to the end of
communication, it is necessary (as has been said) that they
excite in the hearer, exactly the same idea they stand for in the
mind of the speaker. Without this, men fill one another's
heads with noise and sounds ; but convey not thereby their
thoughts, and lay not before one another their ideas, which is
the end of discourse and language. But when a word stands
for a very complex idea, that is compounded and decompounded,
it is not easy for men to form and retain that idea so exactly,
as to make the name in common use stand for the same precise
idea, without any the least variation. Hence it comes to pass,
that men's names of very compound ideas, such as for the most
part are moral words, have seldom in two different men, the
same precise signification, since one man's complex idea seldom
agrees with another's, and often differs from his own, from that
which he had yesterday, or will have to-morrow.

§. 7. Secondly, because they have no standards. — 2, Because
the names of mixed modes, for the most part, want standards in
nature, whereby men may rectify and adjust their significations ;
therefore they are very various and doubtful. They are assem-
blages of ideas put together at the pleasure of the mind,
pursuing its own ends of discourse, and suited to its own
notions, whereby it designs not to copy any thing really existing,
but to denominate and rank things as they come to agree with

400 IMPERFECTION OF WORDS. Book 3.

those archetypes or forms it has made. He that first brought
the words sham, or wheedle, or banter, in use, put together, as he
thought fit, those ideas he made it stand for : and as it is with
any new names of modes, that are now brought into any
language ; so it was with the old ones, when they were first
made use of. Names, therefore, that stand for collections of
ideas, which the mind makes at pleasure, must needs be of
doubtful signification, when such collections are nowhere to be
found constantly united in nature, nor any patterns to be shown
whereby men may adjust them. What the word murder, or
sacrilege, &c., signifies, can never be known from things them-
selves ; there be many of the parts of those complex ideas,
which are not visible in the action itself, the intention of the
mind, or the relation of holy things, which make a part of
murder, or sacrilege, have no necessary connexion with the
outward and visible action of him that commits either : and the
pulling the trigger of the gun, with which the murder is com-
mitted, and is all the action that perhaps is visible, has no
natural connexion with those other ideas that make up the
complex one named murder. They have their union and
combination only from the understanding, which unites them
under one name : but uniting them without any rule, or pattern,
it cannot be but that the signification of the name, that stands
for such voluntary collections, should be often various in the
minds of different men, who have scarce any standing rule
to regulate themselves and their notions by, in such arbitrary
ideas.

§. 8. Propriety not a sufficient remedy. — It is true, common
use, that is the rule of propriety, may be supposed here to afford
some aid, to settle the signification of language ; and it cannot
be denied, but that in some measure it does. Common use
regulates the meaning of words pretty well for common conver-
sation ; but nobody having an authority to establish the precise
signification of words, nor determine to what ideas any one
shall annex them, common use is not sufficient to adjust them
to philosophical discourses; there being scarce any name, of
any very complex idea (to say nothing of others), which, in
common use, has not a great latitude, and which keeping within
the bounds of propriety, may not be made the sign of far differ-
ent ideas. Besides, the rule and measure of propriety itself
being no where established, it is often matter of dispute, whether
this or that way of using a word, be propriety of speech, or no.
From all which, it is evident, that the names of such kind of
very complex ideas, are naturally liable to this imperfection, to
be of doubtful and uncertain signification ; and even in men

Ch.9. IMPERFECTION OF WORDS. 401

that have a mind to understand one another, do not always stand
for the same idea in speaker and hearer. Though the names glory
and gratitude, be the same in every man's mouth through a whole
country, yet the complex collective idea, which every one thinks
on or intends by that name, is apparently very different in men
using the same language.

;j' §. 9. The way of learning these names, contributes also to their
doubtfulness. — The way also w herein the names of mixed modes
are ordinarily learned, does not a little contribute to the doubt-
fulness of their signification. For if we will observe how children
learn languages, we shall find, that to make them understand
what the names of simple ideas, or substances, stand for, people
ordinarily show them the thing whereof they would have them
have the idea, and then repeat to them the name that stands for
it, as white, sweet, milk, sugar, cat, dog. But as for mixed modes,
especially the most material of them, moral words, the sounds
are usually learned first, and then to know what complex ideas
they stand for, they are either beholden to the explication of
others, or (which happens for the most part) are left to their own
observation and industry ; which being little laid out in the
search of the true and precise meaning of names, these moral
words are, in most men's mouths, little more than bare sounds ;
or when they have any, it is for the most part but a very loose
and undetermined, and consequently. obscure and confused, sig-
nification. And even those themselves, who have with more
attention settled their notions, do yet hardly avoid the incon-
venience, to have them stand for complex ideas, different from
those which other, even intelligent and studious, men, make them
the signs of. Where shall one find any, either controversial
debate, or familiar discourse, concerning honour, faith, grace,
religion, church, &,c., wherein it is not easy to observe the difierent
notions men have of them ; which is nothing but this, that they
are not agreed in the signification of those words ; nor have in
their minds the same complex ideas which they make them stand
for ; and so all the contests that follow thereupon, are only
about the meanino- of a sound. And hence we see, that in the
interpretation of laws, whether divine or human, there is no
end ; comments beget comments, and explications make new
matter for explications ; and of limiting, distinguishing, varying
the signification of these moral words, there is no end. These
ideas of men's making, are, by men still having the same power,
multiplied in infinitum. Many a man, who was pretty well
satisfied of the meaning of a text of scripture, or clause in the
code, at first reading, has, by consulting commentators, quite
lost the sense of it, and by those elucidations, given rise or in-

D D

402 IMPERFECTION OF WORDS. Books.

crease to his doubts, and drawn obscurity upon the place. I say
not this, that I think commentaries needless ; but to show how
uncertain the names of mixed modes naturally are, even in the
mouths of those who had both the intension and the facultyof speak-
ing as clearly as language was capable to express their thoughts.
4. 10. He7ice U7iavoidable obscurity in cmcient authors. — What
obscurity this has unavoidably brought upon the writings of
men, who have lived in remote ages, and different countries, it
will be needless to take^notice ; since the numerous volumes of
learned men, employing their thoughts that way, are proofs more
than enough to show what attention, study, sagacity, and reason-
ing, are required, to find out the true meaning of ancient authors.
But there Iseing no writings we have any great concernment to
be very solicitous about the meaning of, but those that contain
either truths we are required to believe, or laws we are to obey,
and draw inconveniences on us when we mistake or transgress,
we may be less anxious about the sense of other authors, who
writing but their own opinions, we are under no greater neces-
sity to know them, than they to know ours. Our good or evil de-
pending not on their decrees, we may safely be ignorant of their
notions ; and therefore in the reading of them, if they do not use their
words with a due clearness and perspicuity, we may lay them aside,
and without any injury done them, resolve thus with ourselves :
" Si non vis intelligi, debes negligi."
^, 11. Names of substances of doubtful signification. — If
the signification of the names of mixed modes are uncer-
tain, because there be no real standards existing in nature,
to which those ideas are referred, and by which they may be
adjusted, the names of substances are of a doubtful signification,
for a contrary reason, viz., because the ideas they stand for are
supposed conformable to the reality of things, and are referred
to standards made by nature. In our ideas of substances we
have not the liberty, as in mixed modes, to frame what com-
binations we think fit, to be the characteristical notes, to rank
and denominate things by. In these we must follow nature,
suit our complex ideas to real existences, and regulate the sig-
nification of their names by the things themselves, if we will
have our names to be the signs of them, and stand for them.
Here, it is true, we have patterns to follow : but patterns that
will make the signification of their names very uncertain ; for
names must be of a very unsteady and various meaning, if the
ideas they stand for be referred to standards without us, that
either cannot be known at all, or can be known but imperfectly
and uncertainly.

§. 12. Names of substances referred, first, to real essences

Ck.9. IMPERFECTION OF WORDS. 403

that cannot be knoivn. — The names of substances have, as has
been shown, a double reference in their ordinary use.

First, Sometimes they are made to stand for, and so their
signification is supposed to agree to, the real constitution of
things, from which all their properties flow, and in which they
all centre. But this real constitution, or (as it is apt to be
called) essence, being utterly imicnown to us, any sound that is
put to stand for it, must be very uncertain in its application ;
and it will be impossible to know what things are, or ought to
be, called a horse or anatomy, when those words are put for real
essences, that we have no ideas of at all. And, therefore, in
this supposition, the names of substances being referred to
standards that cannot be known, their significations can never
be adjusted and established by those standards.

§. 13. Secondly, to co-existing qualities, which are known hut
imperfecthj. — Secondly, The simple ideas that are found to co-
exist in substances, being that which their names immediately
signify, these, as united in the several sorts of things, are the
proper standards to which their names are referred, and by
which their significations may be best rectified. But neither
will these archetypes so well serve to this purpose, as to leave
these names, without very various and uncertain significations.
Because these simple ideas that co-exist, and are united in the
same subject, being very numerous, and having all an equal
right to go into the complex specific idea, which the specific
name is to stand for, men, though they propose to themselves
the very same subject to consider, yet frame very different
ideas about it : and so the name they use for it, unavoidably
comes to have, in several men, very different significations.
The simple qualities which make up the complex ideas, being
most of them powers, in relation to changes, which they are apt
to make in, or receive from, other bodies, are almost infinite. He
tliat shall but observe, what a great variety of alterations any
one of the baser metals is apt to receive, from the different
application only of fire ; and how much a greater number of
changes any one of them will receive in the hands of a chymist,
by the application of other bodies, will not think it strange,
that 1 count the properties of any sort of bodies not easy to be
collected, and completely known by the ways of enquiry, which
our faculties are capable of. They being, therefore, at least,
so many, that no man can know the precise and definite
number, they are differently discovered by different men, ac-
cording to their various skill, attention, and ways of handling ;
who, therefore, cannot choose, but have different ideas of the
same substance, and, therefore, make the signification of its

n D 2

404 IMPERFECTION OF WORDS. Book^.

common name very various and uncertain. For the complex
ideas of substances, being made up of such simple ones as are
supposed to co-exist in nature, every one has a right to put into
his complex idea, those qualities he has found to be united
together. For though in the substance of gold, one satisfies him-
self with colour and weight, yet another thinks solubility in
aqua regia, as necessary to be joined with that colour in his
idea of gold, as any one does its fusibility ; solubility in aqua
regia, being a quality as constantly joined with its colour and
weight, as fusibility, or any other ; others put into it ductility or
fixedness, &c., as they have been taught by tradition or expe-
rience. Who of all these has established the right signification
of the word gold ? Or who shall be the judge to determine ?
Each has his standard in nature, which he appeals to, and with
reason thinks he has the same right to put into his complex
idea signified by the word gold, those qualities, which, upon
trial, he has found united ; as another, who has not so well
examined, has to leave them out ; or a third, who has made
other trials, has to put in others. For the union in nature of
these qualities, being the true ground of their union in one com-
plex idea, who can say one of them has more reason to be put
in, or left out, than another ? From hence it will always una-
voidably follow, that the complex ideas of substances in men
using the same name for them, will be very various : and so the
significations of those names, very uncertain.

§. 14. Thirdly, to co-existing qualities which ^are known but
imperfectly. — Besides, there is scarce any particular thing ex-
isting, which, in some of its simple ideas, does not communicate
with a greater, and in others, a less, number of particular beings :
who shall determine in this case, which are those that are to
make up the precise collection that is to be signified by the
specific name ? or can, with any just authority, prescribe,
which obvious or common qualities are to be left out ; or
which more secret, or more particular, are to be put into the
signification of the name of any substance ? All which together,
seldom or never fail to produce that various and doubtful sig-
nification in the names of substances, which causes such uncer-
tainty, disputes, or mistakes, when we come to a philosophical
use of them.

§. 15. With this imperfection, they may serve for civil, hut not
well for philosophical, use. — It is true, as to civil and common con-
versation, the general names of substances, regulated in their
ordinary signification by some obvious qualities (as by the shape
and figure in things of known seminal propagation, and, in other
substances, for the most part by colour, joined with some other
sensible qualities), do well enough to design the things men

Ch. 9. IMPERFECTION OF WORDS. 405

would be understood to speak of; and so they usually conceive
well enough the substances meant by the word gold, or apple,
to distinguish the one from the other. But in philosophical
enquiries and debates, where general truths are to be established,
and consequences drawn from positions laid down, there the
precise signification of the names of substances will be found,
not only not to be well established, but also very hard to be so.
For example, he that shall make malleableness, or a certain
degree of fixedness, a part of his complex idea of gold, may
make propositions concerning gold, and draw consequences
from them, that will truly and clearly follow from gold, taken in
such a signification ; but yet such as another man can never
be forced to admit, nor be convinced of their truth, who
makes not malleableness, or the same degree of fixedness,
part of that complex idea that the name gold, in his use of it,
stands for.

§. 16. Instance, liquor. — This is a natural, and almost una-
voidable, imperfection in almost all the names of substances, in
all languages whatsoever, which men will easily find, when once
passing from confused or loose notions, they come to more strict
and close enquiries. For then they will be convinced how
doubtful and obscure those words are, in their signification,
whicli in ordinary use appeared very clear and determined. I
was once in a meeting of very learned and ingenious physicians,
where, by chance, there arose a question, whether any liquor
passed through the filaments of the nerves. The debate having
been managed a good while, by variety of arguments on both
sides, I (who had been used to suspect that the greatest part of
disputes were more about the signification of words, than a real
difference in the conception of things) desired, that before they
went any farther on in this dispute, they would first examine,
and establish among them, what the word liquor signified.
They, at first, were a little surprised at the proposal ; and had
they been persons less ingenious, they might perhaps have taken
it for a very frivolous or extravagant one ; since there was no
one there that thought not himself to understand very perfectly,
what the word liquor stood for ; which, I think, too, none of
the most perplexed names of substances. However, they were
pleased to comply with my motion, and, upon examination,
found, that the signification of that word was not so settled
and certain, as they had all imagined ; but that each of them
made it a sign of a different complex idea. This made them
perceive, that the main of their dispute was about the signi-
fication of that term ; and that they differed very little in their
opinions, concerning some fluid and subtle matter, passing

1) I) 3

406 IMPERFECTION OF WORDS. Book's.

through the conduits of the nerves ; though it was not so easy
to agree, whether it was to be called liquor or no, a thing which,
when considered, they thought it not worth the contending about.
§. 17. Instance, gold. — How much this is the case in the
greatest part of disputes that men are engaged so hotly in, I
shall, perhaps, have an occasion in another place to take notice.
Let us only, here, consider a little more exactly the fore-men-
tioned instance of the word gold, and we shall see how hard it
is precisely to determine its signification. I think all agree to
make it stand for a body of a certain yellow shining colour ;
which beingf the idea to which children have annexed that name,
the shining yellow part of a peacock's tail, is properly to them
gold. Others, finding fusibility joined with that yellow colour,
in certain parcels of matter, make, of that combination, a com-
plex idea, to which they give the name gold, to denote a sort of
substances; and so exclude from being gold, all such yellow
shining bodies, as, by fire, will be reduced to ashes, and admit
to be of that species, or to be comprehended under that name,
gold, only such substances as having that shining yellow colour,
will, by fire, be reduced to fusion, and not to ashes. Another,
by the same reason, adds the weight, which being a quality as
straitly joined with that colour, as its fusibility, he thinks has
the same reason to be joined in its idea, and to be signified by
its name; and, therefore, the other made up of body, of such a
colour and fusibility, to be imperfect ; and so on of all the rest;
wherein no one can show a reason, why some of the inseparable
qualities, which are always united in nature, should be ])ut into
the nominal essence, and others left out; or why the word gold,
signifying that sort of body the ring on his finger is made of,
should determine that sort, rather by its colour, weight, and
fusibility, than by its colour, weight, and solubility in aqua
regia; since the dissolving it by that liquor, is as insepa-
rable from it, as the fusion by fire ; and they are both of
them nothing, but the relation which that substance has to
two other bodies which have power to operate differently upon
it. For, by what right is it, that fusibility comes to be a
part of the essence signified by the word gold, and solubility
but a property of it ? Or why is its colour part of the essence,
and its malleableness but a property? That which I mean, is
this, that these being all but properties, depending on its real
constitution ; and nothing but powers, either active or passive,
in reference to other bodies, no one has authority to determine
the signification of the word gold (as referred to such a body
existing in nature) more to one collection of ideas to be found
in that body, than to another : whereby the signification of that

Ch. 9. IMPERFECTION OF WORDS. 407

name must unavoidably be very uncertain ; since, as has been
said, several people observe several properties in the same sub-
stance; and, I think, I may say, nobody at all. And, therefore,
we have but very imperfect descriptions of things, and words
have very uncertain significations.

§. 18. The names of simple ideas the least doubtful. — From
what has been said, it is easy to observe what has been before
remarked, viz., that the names of simple ideas are, of all others,
the least liable to mistakes, and that for these reasons. First,
Because the ideas they stand for, being each but one single
perception, are much easier got, and more clearly retained, than
the more complex ones, and, therefore, are not liable to the
uncertainty which usually attends those compounded ones of
substances and mixed modes, in which the precise number of
simple ideas, that make them up, are not easily agreed, and so
readily kept in the mind. And, Secondly, Because they are
never referred to any other essence, but barely that perception
they immediately signify ; which reference is that which renders
the signification of the names of substances naturally so per-
plexed, and gives occasion to so many disputes. Men that do
not perversely use their words, or, on purpose, set themselves to
cavil, seldom mistake in any language, which they are ac-
quainted with, the use and signification of the names of simple
ideas ; white and sweet, yellow and bitter, carry a very obvious
meaning with them, which every one precisely comprehends, or
easily perceives he is ignorant of, and seeks to be informed.
But what precise collection of simple ideas modesty or fru-
gality stand for in another's use, is not so certainly known.
And however we are apt to think, we well enough know what is
meant by gold, or iron ; yet the precise complex idea others
make them the signs of, is not so certain ; and, I believe, it is
very seldom that in speaker and hearer, they stand for exactly
the same collection. Which must needs produce mistakes and
disputes, when they are made use of in discourses, wherein men
have to do with universal propositions, and would settle in their
minds universal truths, and consider the consequences that
follow from them.

§. 19. And next to them, simple modes. — By the same rule,
the names of simple modes are, next to those of simple ideas,
least liable to doubt and uncertainty, especially those of figure
and number, of which men have so clear and distinct ideas.
Whoever, that had a mind to understand them, mistook the ordi-
nary meaning of seven, or a triangle ; and, in general, the least
compounded ideas in every kind, have the least dubious names.
§. 20. The most doubtful are the names of very compounded,

D D 4

408 IMPERFECTION OF WORDS. Books.

mixed modes and substances. — Mixed modes, therefore, that are
made up but of a few and obvious simple ideas, have usually
names of no very uncertain signification. But the names of
mixed modes, which comprehend a great number of simple
ideas, are cornmonly of a very doubtful and undetermined
meaning, as has been shown. The names of substances being
annexed to ideas that are neither the real essences nor exact
representations of the patterns they are referred to, are liable
yet to greater imperfection and uncertainty, especially when
we come to a philosophical use of them.

§. 21. TV/ty this imperfection charged upon words. — The
great disorder that happens in our names of substances, pro-
ceeding, for the most part, from our want of \ knowledge, and
inability to penetrate into their real constitutions, it may pro-
bably be wondered, why I charge this as an imperfection, rather
upon our words than understandings. This exception has so
much appearance of justice, that I think myself obliged to
give a reason, why I have followed this method. I must confess,
then, that when I first began this Discourse of the Under-
standing, and a good while after, I had not the least thought
that any consideration of words was at all necessary to it. But
w^hen having passed over the original and composition of our
ideas, I began to examine the extent and certainty of our know-
ledge, I found it had so near a connexion with v^ords, that unless
their force and manner of signification were first well observed,
there could be very little said clearly and pertinently concerning
knowledge ; which being conversant about truth, had constantly
to do with propositions. And though it terminated in things,
yet it was, for the most part, so much by the intervention of
words, that they seemed scarce separable from our general,
knowledge. At least they interpose themselves so much between
our understandings and the truth, which it would contemplate
and apprehend, that like the medium, through which visible
objects pass, their obscurity and disorder does not seldom cast
a mist before our eyes, and impose upon our understandings.
If we consider, in the fallacies men put upon themselves, as
well as others, and the mistakes in men's disputes and notions,
how great a part is owing to words, and their uncertain or mis-
taken significations, we shall have reason to think this no small
obstacle in the way to knowledge, which, I conclude, we are the
more carefully to be warned of, because it has been so far from
being taken notice of as an inconvenience, that the arts of im-
proving it have been made the business of men's study ; and
obtained the reputation of learning and subtility, as we shall
see in the following chapter. But I am apt to imagine, that

CA.9. SIGNIFICAIION OF WOKDS. 409

were the imperfections of language, as the instrument of know-
ledge, more thoroughly weighed, a great many of the contro-
versies that make such a noise in the world, would of themselves
cease ; and the way to knowledge, and perhaps peace, too, lie
a great deal opener tlian it does.

§. 22. This should teach us moderation in imposing our own
sense of old authors. — Sure I am, that the signiiication of words,
in all languages, depending very mucli on the thoughts, notions,
and ideas of him that uses them, must unavoidably be of great
uncertainty to men of the same language and country. This is
so evident in the Greek authors, tliat he that shall peruse their
writings, will find in almost every one of them a distinct
language, though the same words. But when to this natural
difficulty in every country, there shall be added different coun-
tries, and remote ages, wherein the speakers and writers had
very different notions, tempers, customs, ornaments, and figures
of speech, 8cc., every one of which influenced the signification
of their words then, though to us now they are lost and un-
known, it would become us to be charitable one to another in
our interpretations or misunderstanding of those ancient writings,
which, though of great concernment to be understood, are liable
to the unavoidable difficulties of speech, which (if we except
the names of simple ideas, and some very obvious things) is not
capable, without a constant defining the terms of conveying the
sense and intention of the speaker, without any manner of
doubt and uncertainty to the hearer. And, in discourses of
religion, law, and morality, as they are matters of the highest
concernment, so there will be the greatest difficulty.

§.23. The volumes of interpreters and commentators on
the Old and New Testaments, are but too manifest proofs of
this. Though every thing said in the text be infallibly true, yet
the reader may be, nay, cannot choose but be, very fallible in
the understanding of it. Nor is it to be wondered, that the will
of God, when clothed in words, should be liable to that doubt
and uncertainty, which unavoidably attends that sort of con-
veyance ; when even his Son, whilst clothed in flesh, was sub-
ject to all the frailties and inconveniences of human nature,
sin excepted. And we ought to magnify his goodness, that
he hath spread before all the world, such legible characters of
his works and providence, and given all mankind so sufficient
a light of reason, that they, to whom this written word never
came, could not (whenever they set themselves to search) either
doubt of the being of a God, or of the obedience due to him.
Since, then, the precepts of natural religion are plain, and very
intelligible to all mankind, and seldom come to be controverted ;

410 ABUSE OF WORDS. Book ».

and other revealed truths, which are conveyed to us by books
and languages, are liable to the common and natural obscurities
and difficulties incident to words, methinks it would become us
to be more careful and diligent in observing the former, and less
magisterial, positive, and imperious, in imposing our own ideas
and interpretations of the latter.

CHAPTER X.

OF THE ABUSE OF WORDS.

§. 1. Abuse of words. — Besides the imperfection that is
naturally in language, and the obscurity and confusion that is
so hard to be avoided in the use of words, there are several
wilful faults and neglects, which men are guilty of, in this
way of communication, whereby they render these signs less
clear and distinct in their signification, than, naturally, they need
to be.

§. 2. First, words without any, or without clear, ideas. — First,
In this kind, the first and most palpable abuse is, the using of
words, without clear and distinct ideas ; or, which is worse,
signs without any thing signified. Of these there are two
sorts :

1, One may observe, in all languages, certain words, that,
if they be examined, will be found, in their first original, and
their appropriated use, not to stand for any clear and distinct
ideas. These, for the most part, the several sects of philo-
sophy and religion have introduced. For their authors, or pro-
moters, either affecting something singular, and out of the way
of common apprehensions, or to support some strange opinions,
or cover some weakness of their hypothesis, seldom fail to
coin new words, and such as, when they come to be examined,
may justly be called insignificant terms. For having either had
no determinate collection of ideas annexed to them, when they
were first invented ; or at least such as, if well examined, will
be found inconsistent, it is no wonder if, afterwards, in the
vulgar use of the same party, they remain empty sounds, with
little or no signification, amongst those who think it enough to
have them often in their mouths, as the distinguishing cha-
racters of their church, or school, without much troubling their
heads to examine what are the precise ideas they stand for. I
shall not need here to heap up instances ; every man's reading
and conversation will sufficiently furnish him ; or if he wants

Ck.W. ABUSE OF WORDS. 411

to be better stored, the great mint-masters of this kind of
terms, I mean the schoolmen and metaphysicians (under which,
I think, the disputing natural and moral philosophers of these
latter ages may be comprehended), have wherewithal abundantly
to content him.

§. 3. 2, Others there be, who extend this abuse yet farther,
who take so little care to lay by words, which in their primary
notation have scarce any clear and distinct idea which they
are annexed to, that by an unpardonable negligence, they fami-
liarly use words, which the propriety of language has affixed to
very important ideas, without any distinct meaning at all.
Wisdom, glory, grace, &c., are words frequent enough in every
man's mouth; but if a great many of those who use them,
should be asked what they mean by them, they would be at a
stand, and not know what to answer; a plain proof, that though
they have learned those sounds, and have them ready at their
tongue's end, yet there are no determined ideas laid up in their
minds, which are to be expressed to others by them.

§. 4. Occasioned by learning names hefore the ideas they helonq
to. — Men having been accustomed from their cradles to learn
words, which are easily got and retained, before they knew, or
had framed, the complex ideas to which they were annexed, or
which were to be found in the things they were thought to stand
for. they usually continue to do so all their lives; and without
taking the pains necessary to settle in their minds determined
ideas, they use their words for such unsteady and confused
notions as they have, contenting themselves with the same
words other people use, as if their very sound necessarily
carried with it constantly the same meaning. This, thouo-h
men make a shift with in the ordinary occurrences of life, whe^re
they find it necessary to be understood, and, therefore, they
make signs till they are so : yet this insignificancy in their
words, when they come to reason concerning either their tenets or
mterest, manifestly fills their discourse with abundance of empty
umntelhgible noise and jargon, especially in moral matters
where the words, for the most part, standing for arbitrary and
numerous collections of ideas, not regularly and permanently
united in nature, their bare sounds are often only thought on, or
at least very obscure and uncertain notions annexed to them
Men take the words they find in use among their neighbours-
and that they may not seem ignorant what they stand for, use
them confidently without much troubling their heads about a
certain fixed meaning ; whereby, besides the ease of it. they
Obtain this advantage, that as in such discourses they seldom
are in the right, so they are as seldom to be convinced that they

412 ABUSE OF WORDS. Book 9.

are in the wrong ; it being all one to go about to draw those
men out of their mistakes, who have no settled notions, as to
dispossess a vagrant of his habitation, who has no settled
abode. This I guess to be so ; and every one may observe in
himself and others, whether it be or no.

§. 5. Secondly , unsteady application of them. — Secondly , Another
great abuse of words, is inconstancy in the use of them. It is
hard to find' a discourse written upon any subject, especially of
controversy, wherein one shall not observe, if he read with at-
tention, the same words (and those commonly the most material
in the discourse, and upon which the argument turns) used some-
times for one collection of simple ideas, and sometimes for
another, which is a perfect abuse of language. Words being
intended for signs of my ideas, to make them known to others,
not by any natural signification, but by a voluntary imposition,
it is plain cheat and abuse, when I make them stand sometimes
for one thing, and sometimes for another ; the wilfid doing
whereof, can be imputed to nothing but great folly, or greater
dishonesty. And a man, in his accounts with another, may,
with as much fairness, make the characters of numbers stand
sometimes for one, and sometimes for another, collection of units
(v. g. this character 3 stands sometimes for three, sometimes for
four, and sometimes for eight), as in his discourse, or reasoning,
make the same words stand for different collections of simple
ideas. If men should do so in their reckonings, I wonder who
would have to do with them ! One who Avould speak thus, in
the affairs and business of the world, and call 8 sometimes seven,
and sometimes nine, as best served his advantage, would pre-
sently have clapped upon him one of the two names men are com-
monly disgusted with. And yet in arguings, and learned con-
tests, the same sort of proceeding passes commonly for wit and
learning ; but to me it appears a greater dishonesty, than the
misplacing of counters in the casting up a debt ; and the cheat
the greater, by how much truth is of greater concernment and
value than money.

§. 6. Thirdly, affected obscurity by wrong application. —
Thirdly, Another abuse of language, is an affected obscurity, by
either applying old words to new and unusual significations, or
introducing new and ambiguous terms, without defining either ;
or else putting them so together, as may confound their ordinary
meaning. Though the peripatetic philosophy has been most
eminent in this way, yet other sects have not been wholly clear
of it. There are scarce any of them that are not cumbered with
some difficulties (such is the imperfection of human knowledge),
which they have been fain to cover with obscurity of terms, and

Ch. 10. ABUSE OF WORDS. 413

to confound the signification of words, which, like a mist before
people's eyes, might hinder their weak parts from being dis-
covered. That body and extension, in common use, stand for
two distinct ideas, is plain to any one that will but reflect a little.
For were their signification precisely the same, it would be pro-
per, and as intelligible, to say, the body of an extension, as the
extension of a body ; and yet there are those who find it neces-
sary to confound their signification. To this abuse, and the
mischiefs of confounding the signification of words, logic, and
the liberal sciences, as they have been handled in the schools,
have given reputation ; and the admired art of disputing, hath
added much to the natural imperfection of languages, whilst it
has been made use of and fitted to perplex the signification of
words, more than to discover the knowledge and truth of thino-g ;
and he that will look into that sort of learned writings, will find
the words there much more obscure, uncertain, and undetermined
in their meaning, than they are in ordinary conversation.

§.7. Logic and dispute have much contributed to this. — This is
unavoidably to be so, where men's parts and learning are estimated
by their skill in disputing. And if reputation and reward shall
attend these conquests, which depend mostly on the fineness and
niceties of words, it is no wonder if the wit of man so employed,
should perplex, involve, and subtilize the signification of sounds,
so as never to want something to say, in opposing or defending
any question ; the victory being adjudged not to him who had
truth on his side, but the last word in the dispute.

§. 8. Calling it suhtilty. — This, though a very useless skill,
and that which I think the direct opposite to the ways of
knowledge, hath yet passed hitherto under the laudable and
esteemed names of subtilty and acuteness ; and has had the
applause of the schools, and encouragement of one part of the
learned men of the world. And no wonder, since the philo-
sophers of old (the disputing and wrangling philosophers
I mean, such as Lucian wittily and with reason taxes), and
the schoolmen since, aiming at glory and esteem for their
great and universal knowledge, easier a great deal to be pre-
tended to, than really acquired, found this a good expedient to
cover their ignorance with a curious and inexplicable web of
perplexed words, and procure to themselves the admiration
of others by unintelligible terms, the apter to produce wonder,
because they could not be understood : whilst it appears in all
history, that these profound doctors were no wiser, nor more
useful, than their neighbours ; and brought but small advantage
to human life, or the societies wherein they lived : unless the

414 ABUSE OF WORDS. Book 3.

coining of new words, where they produced no new things to
apply them to, or the perplexing or obscuring the signification
of old ones, and so bringing all things into question and dispute,
were a thing profitable to the life of man, or worthy commen-
dation and reward.

§. 9. This learning very little benefits society.— For notwith-
standing these learned disputants, these all-knowing doctors,
it was to the unscholastic statesman, that the governments of
the world owed their peace, defence, and liberties ; and from the
illiterate and contemned mechanic (a name of disgrace), that
they received the improvements of useful arts. Nevertheless,
this artificial ignorance, and learned gibberish, prevailed mightily
in these last ages, by the interest and artifice of those, who
found no easier way to that pitch of authority and dominion they
have attained, than by amusing the men of business, and
ignorant, with hard words, or employing the ingenious and idle
in intricate disputes about unintelligible terms, and holding
them perpetually entangled in that endless labyrinth. Besides,
there is no such way to gain admittance, or give defence to
strange and absurd doctrines, as to guard them round about
with legions of obscure, doubtful, and undefined words : which
yet make these retreats more like the dens of robbers, or holes
of foxes, than the fortresses of fair warriors ; which if it be
hard to get them out of, it is not for the strength that is in
them, but the briars and thorns, and the obscurity of the
thickets they are beset with. For untruth being unacceptable
to the mind of man, there is no other defence left for absurdity,
but obscurity.

§. 10. But destroys the instruments of knowledge and commu-
nication.— Thus learned ignorance, and this art of keeping, even
inquisitive men, from true knowledge, hath been propagated
in the world, and hath much perplexed, whilst it pretended to
inform, the understanding. For we see, that other well meaning
and wise men, whose education and parts had not acquired that
acuteness, could intelligibly express themselves to one another ;
and in its plain use, make a benefit of language. But though
unlearned men well enough understood the words white and
black, &c., and had constant notions of the ideas signified by
those words, yet there were philosophers found, who had
learning and subtilty enough to prove, that snow was black,
i. e., to prove that white was black. Whereby they had the
advantage to destroy the instruments and means of discourse,
conversation, instruction, and society ; whilst with great art
and subtilty, they did no more but perplex and confound the

Ch. 10. ABUSE OF WORDS. 415

sic;nification of words, and thereby render lan2:uap;e less useful,
than the real defects of it had made it a gift, which the illiterate
had not attained to.

§. 11. -4* useful as to confound the sound of the letters — These
learned men did equally instruct men's understandings, and
j)rofit their lives, as he who should alter the signification of
known characters, and, by a subtle device of learning, far
surpassing the capacity of the illiterate, dull, and vulgar, should
in his writing show, that he could put A for B, and D for E,
&c., to the no small admiration and benefit of his reader.
It being as senseless to put black, which is a word agreed
on to stand for one sensible idea, to put it, I say, for another,
or the contrary idea, i. e. to call snow black, as to put this
mark A, which is a character agreed on to stand for one
modification of sound, made by a certain motion of the organs
of speech, for B, which is agreed on to stand for another modi-
fication of sound, made by another certain motion of the organs
of speech.

§. 12. This art has perplexed religion and justice. — Nor
hath this mischief stopped in logical niceties, or curious empty
speculations ; it hath invaded the great concernments of human
life and society; obscured and perplexed the material truths of
law and divinity ; brought confusion, disorder, and uncertainty
into the affairs of mankind ; and if not destroyed, yet in a great
measure rendered useless, those two great rules, religion and
justice. What have the greatest part of the comments and
disputes upon the laws of God and man served for, but to make
the meaning more doubtful, and perplex the sense ? What
have been the effect of those multiplied curious distinctions,
and acute niceties, but obscurity and uncertainty, leaving the
words more unintelligible, and the reader more at a loss ? How
else comes it to pass, that princes, speaking or writing to their
servants, in their ordinary commands, are easily understood ;
speaking to their people, in their laws, are not so ? And, as I
remarked before, doth it not often happen, that a man of an
ordinary capacity, very well understands a text, or a law, that
he reads, till he consults an expositor, or goes to council ; who,
by that time he hath done explaining them, makes the words
signify either nothing at all, or what he pleases ?

§. 13. And ought not to pass for learning. — Whether any
by-interests of these professions have occasioned this, I will
not here examine; but I leave it to be considered, whether it
would not be well for mankind, whose concernment it is to
know things as they are, and to do what they ought, and not
to spend their lives in talking about them, or tossing words

416 ABUSE OF WORDS. Book i.

to and fro ; whether it would not be well, I say, that the use of
words were made plain and direct; and that language, which
was given us for the improvement of knowledge, and bond of
society, should not be employed to darken truth, and unsettle
people's rights ; to raise mists, and render unintelligible both
morality and religion ? Or that at least, if this will happen, it
should not be thought learning or knowledge to do so ?

§. 14. Fourthly, taking them for things. — Fourthly, Another
great abuse of words, is the taking them for things. This,
though it in some degree concerns all names in general, yet
more particularly affects those of substances. To this abuse,
those men are most subject, who most confine their thoughts to
any one system, and give themselves up into a firm belief of the
perfection of any received hypothesis ; whereby they come to
be persuaded, that the terms of that sect are so suited to the
nature of things, that they perfectly correspond with their real
existence. Who is there, that has been bred up in the peri-
patetic philosophy, who does not think the ten names under
which are ranked the ten predicaments, to be exactly con-
formable to the nature of things ? Who is there of that school,
that is not persuaded, that substantial forms, vegetative souls,
abhorrence of a vacuum, intentional species, &c., are something
real? These words men have learned from their very entrance
upon knowledge, and have found their masters and systems
lay great stress upon them ; and therefore they cannot quit the
opinion, that they are conformable to nature, and are the
representations of something that really exists. The Platonists
have their soul of the world, and the Epicureans their endeavour
towards motion in their atoms, when at rest. There is scarce
any sect in philosophy has not a distinct set of terms that others
understand not. But yet this gibberish, which in the weakness
of human understanding, serves so well to palliate men's igno-
rance, and cover their errors, comes by familiar use amongst
those of the same tribe, to seem the most important part of
language, and of all other, the terms the most significant : and
should serial and atherial vehicles come once, by the prevalency
of that doctrine, to be generally received any where, no doubt
those terms would make impressions on men's minds, so as to
establish them in the persuasion of the reality of such things,
as much as peripatetic forms and intentional species have
heretofore done,

^. 15. Instance, in matter. — How much names taken for
things are apt to mislead the understanding, the attentive
reading of philosophical writers would abundantly discover; and
that perhaps in words little suspected of any such misuse. I

C'A.IO. ABUSE OF WORDS. 417

shall instance in one only, and that a very familiar one. How
snany intricate disputes liave there been about matter, as if there
were some such thing really in nature, distinct from body ; as
it is evident, the word matter stands for an idea distinct from
the idea of body ? For if the ideas these two terms stood for,
were precisely the same, they might indifferently, in all places,
be put one for another. But we see, that though it be proper to
say, there is one matter of all bodies, one cannot say, there is
one body of all matters : we familiarly say, one body is bio-ger
than another; but it sounds harsh (and I think is never used)
to say, one matter is bigger than another. Whence comes this,
(hen ? viz., from hence, that though matter and body be not
really distinct, but wherever there is the one, there is the other •
yet matter and body stand for two different conceptions, whereof
the one is incomplete, and but a part of the other. For body
stands for a solid extended figured substance, whereof matter is
but a partial and more confused conception ; it seeming to me
to be used for the substance and solidity of body, without taking
in its extension and figure : and therefore it is that speakino- of
matter, we speak of it always as one, because, in truth, it
expressly contains nothing but the idea of a solid substance,
which is every where the same, every where uniform. This
being our idea of matter, we no more conceive, or speak of,
different matters in the world, than we do of different solidities ;
though we both conceive and speak of different bodies, because
extension and figure are capable of variation. But since solidity
cannot exist without extension and figure, the taking matter
to be the name of something really existing under that precision,
has no doubt produced those obscure and unintelligible dis-
courses and disputes, which have filled the heads and books of
philosophers concerning »ia<ereaj9rma; which imperfection or
abuse, how far it may concern a great many other general terms,
I leave to be considered. Tliis I think I may at least say, that
we should have a great many fewer disputes in the world, if
words were taken for what they are, the signs of our ideas only,
and not for things themselves. For when we argue about matter,
or any the like term, we truly argue only about the idea we
express by that sound, whether that precise idea agree to any
thing really existing in nature, or no. And if men would tell
what ideas they make their words stand for, there could not be
half that obscurity or wrangling in the search or support of
truth, that there is.

§. 16. This vuikes errors lasling. — But whatever inconve-
nience follows from this mistake ot' words, this I am sure, that
by constant and familiar use, they chann men into notions far

E E

41» ABUSE OF WORDS. Book 3.

remote from the truth of things. It would be a hard matter to
persuade any one that the words which his father or school-
master, the parson of the parish, or such a reverend doctor,
used, signified nothing that really existed in nature : which,
perhaps, is none of the least causes, that men are so hardly
drawn to quit their mistakes, even in opinions purely philoso-
phical, and where they have no other interest but truth. For
the words they have a long time been used to, remaining firm
in their minds, it is no wonder that the wrong notions annexed
to them should not be removed.

§. 17. Fifthly, setting them for what they cannot signify. —
Fifthly, another abuse of words is the setting them in the
place of things, which they do or can by no means signify.
We may observe, that in the general names of substances,
whereof the nominal essences are only known to us, when we
put them into propositions, and affirm or deny any thing about
them, we do most commonly tacitly suppose or intend they
should stand for, the real essence of a certain sort of substances.
For when a man says gold is malleable, he means and would
insinuate something more than this, that what I call gold is
malleable (though truly it amounts to no more), but would have
this understood, viz., that gold, i. e. what has the real essence
of gold, is malleable ; which amounts to thus much, that
malleableness depends on, and is inseparable from, the real
essence of gold. But a man not knowing wherein that real
essence consists, the connexion in his mind of malleableness is
not truly with an essence he knows not, but only with the
sound gold he puts for it. Thus when we say, that animal
rationale is, and animal implume bipes latis unguihus, is not, a
good definition of a man ; it is plain, we suppose the name man
in this case to stand for the real essence of a species, and
would signify, that a rational animal better described that real
essence, than a two-legged animal with broad nails, and without
feathers. For else why might not Plato as properly make the
word avSpwTr©^ or man, stand for his complex idea, made up of
the ideas of a body, distinguished from others by a certain
shape, and other outward appearances, as Aristotle made the
complex idea, to which he gave the name a.'/h^a'KQ^ or man, of
body, and the faculty of reasoning, joined together; unless the
name a-Jh^wK^ or man, were supposed to stand for something
else than what it signifies ; and to be put in the place of
some other thing than the idea a man professes he would
express by it.

§. 18. F. <7. Putting them for the real essences of suhstances.
— It is true, the names of substances would be much more

Ck. 10. ABUSE OF WORDS. 419

useful, and propositions made in them much nK»re certain, were
the real essences of substances the ideas in our minds, which
those words signified. And it is for want of those real essences,
that our words convey so little knowledge or certainty in our
discourses about them : and therefore the mind, to remove that
imperfection as much as it can, makes them, by a secret suppo-
sition, to stand for a thing having that real essence, as if
thereby it made some nearer approaches to it. For though the
words man or gold, signifying nothing truly but a complex idea
of properties, united together in one sort of substances; yet there
is scarce anybody in the use of these words, but often supposes
each of those names to stand for a thing having the real essence
on which these properties depend. Which is so far from
diminishing the imperfections of our words, that by a plain
abuse it adds to it, when we would make them stand for some-
thing, which not being in our complex idea, the name we use
can no ways be the sign of.

§. 19. Hence ive think every change of our idea in substances,
not to clianye the species. — This shows us the reason why in
mixed modes, any of the ideas that make the composition of the
complex one, being left out or changed, it is allowed to be
another thing, i.e. to be of another species, as is plain in
chance, medley, manslaughter, murder, parricide, &c. The reason
whereof is, because the complex idea signified by that name, is
the real as well as nominal essence ; and there is no secret
reference of that name to any other essence but that. But in
substances, it is not so. For though in that called gold, one
puts into his complex idea what another leaves out, and vice
versa ; yet men do not usually think that therefore the species
is changed : because they secretly in their minds refer that
name, and suppose it annexed to a real immutable essence of a
thing existing, on which those properties depend. He that
adds to his complex idea of gold, that of fixedness and
solubility in agua regia, which he put not in it before;, is not
thought to have changed the species ; but only to have a more
perfect idea, by adding another simple idea, which is always in
fact joined with those other, of which his former complex idea
consisted. But this reference of the name to a thing, whereof
we have not the idea, is so far from helping at all, that it only
serves the more to involve lis in difficulties. For by this tacit
reference to the real essence of that species of bodies, the
word gold (which by standing for a more or less perfect
collection of simple ideas, serves to design that sort of body
well enough in civil discourse) comes to have no signification
at all, being put for somewhat, whereof we have no idea at all,

K E 2

420 ABUSE OF WORDS. Booh 3.

and so can signify nothing at all, when the body itself is away.
For however it may be thought all one ; yet, if well considered,
it will be found quite a different thing, to argue about gold in
name, and about a parcel in the body itself, v. g. a piece of
leaf gold laid before us ; though in discourse we are fain to
substitute the name for the thing.

§. 20. The cause of the abuse, a supposition of natures
working always regularly. — That which I think very much
disposes men to substitute their names for the real essences of
species, is the supposition before mentioned, that nature works
regularly in the production of things, and sets the boundaries
to each of those species, by giving exactly the same real
internal constitution to each individual, which we rank under
one general name. Whereas, any one who observes their
different qualities, can hardly doubt, that many of the indivi-
duals, called by the same name, are, in their internal consti-
tution, as different one from another, as several of those which
are ranked under different specific names. This supposition,
however, that the same precise internal constitution goes always
with the same specific name, makes men forward to take those
names for the representatives of those real essences, though
indeed they signify nothing but the complex ideas they have in
their minds when they use them. So that, if I may so say,
signifying one thing, and being supposed for, or put in the
place of, another, they cannot but, in such a kind of use, cause
a great deal of uncertainty in men's discourses ; especially in
those who have thoroughly imbibed the doctrine of substantial
forms, whereby they firmly imagine the several species of things
to be determined and distinguished.

§. 21. This abuse contains two false suppositions. — But how-
ever preposterous and absurd it be, to make our names stand
for ideas we have not, or (which is all one) essences that we
know not, it being in effect to make our words the signs of
nothing ; yet it is evident to any one, who reflects ever so little
on the use men make of their words, that there is nothing-
more familiar. When a man asks whether this or that thing he
sees, let it be a drill, or a monstrous foetus, be a man, or no ;
it is evident, the question is not, whether that particular thing
agree to his complex idea, expressed by the name man : but
whether it has in it the real essence of a species of things,
which he supposes his name man to stand for. In which way of
using the names of substances, there are these false suppositions
contained :

First, That there are certain precise essences, according to
which nature makes all particular things, and by which they

Ch. 10. ABUSE OF WORDS. 421

are distinguished into species. That every thing has a real
constitution, whereby it is what it is, and on which its sensible
qualities depend, is past doubt : but I think it has been proved,
that this makes not the distinction of species, as we rank them ;
nor the boundaries of their names.

Secondly, This tacitly also insinuates, as if we had ideas of
these proposed essences. For to what purpose else is it, to
enquire whether this or that thing have the real essence of the
species man, if we did not suppose that there were such a
specific essence known ? Which yet is utterly false : and
therefore such application of names, as would make them stand
for ideas which we have not, must needs cause great disorder
in discourses and reasonings about them, and be a great incon-
venience in our communication by words.

§. 22. Sixthly, a supposition that words have a certain and
evident signification. — Sixthly, There remains yet another more
general, though perhaps less observed, abuse of words ; and that
is, that men having by a long and familiar use annexed to them
certain ideas, they are apt to imagine so near and necessary a
connexion between the names and the signification they use them
in, that they forwardiy suppose one cannot but understand what
their meaning is ; and therefore one ought to acquiesce in the
words delivered, as if it were past doubt, that in the use of those
common received sounds, the speaker and hearer had necessarily
the same precise ideas. Whence presuming, that when they
have in discourse used any term, they have thereby, as it were,
set before others the very thing they talk of. And so likewise
taking the words of others, as naturally standing for just what
they themselves have been accustomed to apply them to, they
never trouble themselves to explain their own, or understand
clearly others', meaning. From whence commonly proceed noise
and wrangling, without improvement or information; whilst
men take words to be the constant regular marks of agreed
notions, which in truth are no more but the voluntary and
unsteady signs of their own ideas. And yet men think it
strange, if in discourse, or (where it is often absolutely neces-
sary) in dispute, one sometimes asks the meaning of their terms :
though the arguings one may every day observe in conversation,
make it evident, that there are few names of complex ideas,
which any two men use for the same just precise collection. It
is hard to name a word which will not be a clear instanfce of
this. Life is a term, none more familiar. Any one almost
would take it for an atlront, to be asked what he meant by it.
And yet if it comes in question, whether a plant, that lies ready
formed in the seed, have life ; whether the embryo of an egg

E E 3

422 ABUSE OF WORDS. Book 3.

before incubation, or a man in a swoon without sense or motion,
be alive, or no ? It is easy to perceive, that a clear distinct
settled idea does not always accompany the use of so known a
word, as that of life is. Some gross and confused conceptions
men indeed ordinarily have, to which they apply the common
words of their language, and such a loose use of their words
serves them well enough in their ordinary discourses or affairs.
-But this is not sufficient for philosophical enquiries. Knowledge
and reasoning require precise determinate ideas. And though
men will not be so importunately dull, as not to understand
what others say, without demanding an explication of their
terms ; nor so troublesomely critical, as to correct others in the
use of the words they receive from them : yet where truth and
knowledge are concerned in the case, I know^ not' what fault it
can be to desire the explication of words, whose sense seems
dubious; or why a man should be ashamed to own his ignorance,
in what sense another man uses his words, since he has no
other way of certainly knowing it, but by being informed. This
abuse of taking words upon trust, has no where spread so far,
nor with so ill effects, as amongst men of letters. The multi-
plication and obstinacy of disputes, which has so laid waste the
intellectual world, is owing to nothing more than to this ill use
of words. For though it be generally believed, that there is
great diversity of opinions in the volumes and variety of contro-
versies the world is distracted with, yet the most I can find
that the contending learned men of different parties do, in
their arguings one with another, is, that they speak different
languages. For I am apt to imagine, that when any of them
quitting terms, think upon things, and know what they think,
they think all the same : though perhaps what they would have,
be different.

§. 23. The ends of langriage : first, to convey our ideas. —
To conclude this consideration of the imperfection and abuse of
language ; the ends of language in our discourse with others
•being chiefly these three : First, To make known one man's
thoughts or ideas to one another. Secondly, To do it with as
much ease and quickness as possible ; and Thirdly, Thereby to
convey the knowledge of things : language is either abused, or
deficient, when it fails of any of these thi^e.

First, "Words fail in the first of these ends, and lay not
open one man's ideas to another's view. 1, When men have
names in their mouths without any determined ideas in their
minds, whereof they are the signs : or 2, When they apply
the common received names of any language to ideas, to
which the common use of that language does not apply them :

Ch. 10. ABUSE OF WORDS. 423

or 3, When they applied them very unsteadily, making them
stand now for one, and by-and-by for another idea.

§. 24. Secondly, to do it ivith quickness. — Secondly, Men fail of
conveying their thoughts, with all the quickness and ease that
may be, when they have complex ideas, without having any distinct
names for them. This is sometimes the fault of the language
itself, which has not in it a sound yet applied to such a signi-
fication ; and sometimes the fault of the man, who has not yet
learned the name for that idea he would show another.

§. 25. Thirdly, therewith to convey the knowledge of things.
— Thirdly, Tiiere is no knowledge of things, conveyed by men's
words, when their ideas agree not to the reality of things.
Though it be a defect, that has its original in our ideas, which
are not so conformable to the nature of things, as attention,
study, and application, might make them ; yet it fails not to
extend itself to our words too, when we use them as signs of
real beings, which yet never had any reality or existence.

§. 26. How mens words fail in all these. — First, He that
hath words of any language, without distinct ideas in his mind,
to which he applies them, does, so far as he uses them in dis-
course, only make a noise without any sense or signification,
and how learned soever he may seem by the use of hard words,
or learned terms, is not much more advanced thereby in know-
ledge, than he would be in learning, who had nothing in his
study but the bare titles of books, without possessing the contents
of them. For all such words, however put into discourse, according
to the right construction of grammatical rules, or the harmony
of well turned periods, do yet amount to nothing but bare
sounds, and nothing else.

§. 27. Secondly, He that has complex ideas, without parti-
cular names for them, would be in no better a case than a book-
seller, who had in his warehouse volumes that lay there unbound,
and without titles ; which he could, therefore, make known to
others, only by showing the loose sheets, and communicating
them only by tale. This man is hindered in his discourse, for
want of words to communicate his complex ideas, which he
is therefore forced to make known by an enumeration of
the simple ones that compose them ; and so is fain often to
use twenty words to express what another man signifies in
one.

§. 28. Thirdly, He that puts not constantly the same sign
for the same idea, but uses the same words, sometimes in
one, and sometimes in another, signification, ought to pass in
the schools and conversation, for as fair a man as he does in

E E 4

424 ABUSE OF WORDS. Book 3.

the market and exchange, who sells several things under the
same name.

§. 29. Fourthly, He that applies the words of any lan-
guage to ideas different from those to which the common use of
that country applies them, however his own understanding
may be filled with truth and light, will not by such words be
able to convey much of it to others, without defining his
terms. For however the sounds are such as are familiarly
known, and easily enter the ears of those who are accustomed
to them; yet standing for other ideas than those they usually
are annexed to, and are wont to excite in the mind of the
hearers, they cannot make known the thoughts of him who thus
uses them.

§. 30. Fifthly, He that imagined to himself substances
such as never have been, and filled his head with ideas which
have not any correspondence with the real nature of things, to
which yet he gives settled and defined names, may fill his dis-
course, and perhaps another man's head, with the fantastical
imaginations of his own brain, but will be very far from advan-
cing thereby one jot in real and true knowledge.

§.31. He that hath names without ideas, wants meaning in
his words, and speaks only empty sounds. He that hath com-
plex ideas without names for them, wants liberty and dispatch
in his expressions, and is necessitated to use periphrases. He
that uses his words loosely and unsteadily, will either be not
minded, or not understood. He that applies his ideas to names
different from their common use, wants propriety in his language,
and speaks gibberish. And he that hath the ideas of substances,
disagreeing with the real existence of things, so far wants the
materials of true knowledge in his understanding, and hath
instead thereof, chimeras.

^. 32. How in substances. — In our notions concerning sub-
stances, Ave are liable to all the former inconveniences ; v. g.
1, He that uses the v.ord tarantula, without having any imagi-
nation or idea of what it stands for, pronounces a good word ;
but so long means nothing at all by it. 2, He that in a new-
discovered country shall see several sorts of animals and vege-
tables unknown to him before, may have as true ideas of them,
as of a horse, or a stag ; but can speak of them only by a
description, till he shall either take the names the natives call
them by, or give them names himself. 3, He that uses the word
body sometimes for pure extension, and sometimes for exten-
sion and solidity together, will talk very fallaciously. 4, He
that gives the name horse to that idea which common usage
calls mule, talks improperly, and will not be understood. 5, He

Ch. 10. ABUSE OF WORDS. 425

that thinks the name centaur stands for some real being, imposes
on himself, and mistakes words for things.

§. 33. How iti ?nodes and relations. — In modes and relations
generally, we are liable only to the four first of these incon-
veniences, viz., 1, I may have in my memory the names of
modes, as gratitude, or charity, and yet not have any precise
ideas annexed in my thoughts to those names. 2, I may have
ideas, and not know the names that belong to them ; v. g. I may
have the idea of a man's drinking till his colour and humour be
altered, till his tongue trips, and his eyes look red, and his feet
fail him, and yet not know that it is to be called drunkenness.
3, I may have the ideas of virtues or vices, and names also, but
apply them amiss; v. g. when I apply the name frugality to
that idea which others call and signify by this sound, covetous-
ness. 4, I may use any of those names with inconstancy.
5, But in modes and relations, I cannot have ideas disagreeing
to the existence of things ; for modes being complex ideas
made by the mind at pleasure ; and relation being but by way
of considering or comparing two things together, and so also an
idea of my own making, these ideas can scarce be found to
disagree with any thing existing ; since they are not in the
mind, as the copies of things, regularly made by nature, nor as
properties inseparably flowing from the internal constitution or
essence of any substance ; but, as it were, patterns lodged in
my memory with names annexed to them, to denominate actions
and relations by, as they come to exist. But the mistake is
commonly in my giving a wrong name to my conceptions ; and
so using words in a different sense from other people, I am not
understood, but am thought to have wrong ideas of them, when
I give wrong names to them. Only if I put in my ideas of
mixed modes or relations, any inconsistent ideas together, I fill
my head also with chimeras; since such ideas, if well examined,
cannot so much as exist in the mind, much less any real being-
be ever denominated from them.

§. 34. Seventhly, ^(/urative language also an abuse of language.
— Since wit and fancy finds easier entertainment in the world,
than dry trutli and real knowledge, figurative speeches, and allu-
sion in language, will hardly be admitted as an imperfection or
abuse of it. I confess, in discourses, where we seek rather
pleasure and delight, than information and improvement, such
ornaments as are borrowed from them, can scarce pkss for faults.
But yet, if we would speak of things as they are, we must allow,
that all the art of rhetoric, besides order and clearness, all the
artificial and figurative application of words eloquence hath
invented, are for nothing else but to insinuate wrong ideas, move

4-26 REMEDIES OF THE IMPERFECTION Book 3.

the passions, and thereby mislead the judgment, and so, indeed,
are perfect cheats ; and, therefore, however laudable or allow-
able oratory may render them in harangues and popular ad--
dresses, they are certainly in all discourses that pretend to
inform or instruct, wholly to be avoided ; and where truth and
knowledge are concerned, cannot but be thought a great fault,
either of the language or person that makes use of them.
What, and how various, they are, will be superfluous here to take
notice ; the books of rhetoric which abound in the world,
will instruct those who want to be informed. Only I cannot
but observe, how little the preservation and improvement of
truth and knowledge, is the care and concern of mankind 5 since
the arts of fallacy are endowed and preferred. It is evident
how much men love to deceive, and be deceived, since rhetoric,
that powerful instrument of error and deceit, has its established
professors, is publicly taught, and has always been had in great
reputation ; and, I doubt not but it will be thought great
boldness, if not brutality, in me, to have said thus much against
it. Eloquence, like the fair sex, has too prevailing beauties in
it, to suffer itself ever to be spoken against. And it is in vain
to find fault with those arts of deceiving, wherein men find
pleasure to be deceived.

CHAPTER XL

OF THE REMEDIES OF THE FOREGOING IMPERFECTIONS
AND ABUSES.

§. 1. They are worth seeking. — The natural and improved
imperfections of languages, we have seen above at large ; and
speech being the great bond that holds society together, and the
common conduit, whereby the improvements of knowledge are
conveyed from one man, and one generation, to another, it
would well deserve our most serious thoughts, to consider
what remedies are to be found for these inconveniences above-
mentioned.

§. 2. Are not easy. — I am not so vain to think, that any one
can pretend to attempt the perfect reforming the languages of
the world, no, not so much as of his own country, without ren-
dering himself ridiculous. To require that men should use
their words constantly in the same sense, and for none but
determined and uniform ideas, would be to think, that all men
should have the same notions, and should talk of nothing but
what they have clear and distinct ideas of. Which is not to be

Ch. 11. AND ABUSE OF WORDS. 427

expected by any one, who hath not vanity enouo;h to imagine
he can prevail with men to be very knowing or very silent.
And he must be very little skilled in the world, who thinks that
a voluble tongue shall accompany only a good understanding ;
or that men's talking much or little, shall hold proportion only to
their knowledge.

§. 3. But jjet necessary to philosophy. — But though the
market and exchange must be left to their own ways of talking, and
gossippings not to be robbed of their ancient privilege ; though
the schools, and men of argument, would, perhaps, take it amiss
to have any thing offered, to abate the length, or lessen the
number, of their disputes ; yet, methinks those who pretend
seriously to search after or maintain truth, should think them-
selves obliged to study how they might deliver themselves
without obscurity, doubtfulness, or equivocation, to which
men's words are naturally liable, if care be not taken.

§. 4. Misuse of words, the great cause of errors. — For he that
shall well consider the errors and obscurity, the mistakes and
confusion, that are spread in the world by an ill use of words,
will find some reason to doubt, whether language, as it has been
employed, has contributed more to the improvement or hin-
drance of knowledge amongst mankind. How many are there,
that when they would think on things, fix their thoughts only on
words, especially when they would apply their minds to moral
matters ; and who then can wonder, if the result of such con-
templations and reasonings, about little more than sounds, whilst
the ideas they annexed to them are very confused, or very un-
steady, or, perhaps, none at all ; who can wonder, I say, that
such thoughts and reasonings end in nothing but obscurity and
mistake, without any clear judgment or knowledge ?

§. 5. Obstinacy. — This inconvenience, in all ill use of words,
men suffer in their own private meditations ; but much more
manifest are the disorders which follow from it, in conversation,
discourse, and arguings with others. For language being the
great conduit whereby men convey their discoveries, reasonings,
and knowledge, from one to another, he that makes an ill use of
it, though he does not corrupt the fountains of knowledge, which
are in things themselves, yet he does, as much as in him lies,
break or stop the pipes, whereby it is distributed to the public
use and advantage of mankind. He that uses words without any
clear and steady meaning, what does he but lead himself and
others into errors ? And he that designedly does it, ought to
be looked on as an enemy to truth and knowledge. And yet
who can wonder, that all the sciences' and parts of knowledge,
have been so overcharged with obscure and equivocal terms, and

4-2» REMKDIES OF THE IMPERFECTION Books.

insignificant and doubtful expressions, capable to make the
most attentive or quick-sighted, very little, or not at all, the more
knowing or orthodox ; since subtilty in those who make profes-
sion to teach or defend truth, hath passed so much for a virtue.
A virtue, indeed, which consisting, for the most part, in nothing
but the fallacious and illusory use of obscure and deceitful terms,
is only fit to make men more conceited in their ignorance, and
obstinate in their errors.

§. 6. And wrangling . — Let us look into the books of con-
troversy of any kind, there we shall see, that the effect of
obscure, unsteady, or equivocal terms, is nothing but noise and
wrangling about sounds, without convincing or bettering a man's
understanding. For if the idea be not agreed on, betwixt the
speaker and hearer, for which the words stand, the argument is
not about thincrs, but names. As often as such a word, whose
sionification is not ascertained betwixt them, comes in use, their
understandings have no other object wherein they agree, but
barely the sound, the things that they think on at that time, as
expressed by that word, being quite different.

|. 7. Instance, hat and bird. — Whether a bat be a bird, or no,
is not a question ; whether a bat be another thing than indeed it
is, or have other qualities than indeed it has, for that would be
extremely absurd to doubt of; but the question is, 1, Either
between those that acknowledged themselves to have but im-
perfect ideas of one or both of those sorts of things, for which
these names are supposed to stand ; and then it is real enquiry
concerning the nature of a bird, or a bat, to make their yet im-
perfect ideas of it more complete, by examining, whether all the
simple ideas, to which, combined together, they both give the
name bird, be all to be found in a bat ; but this is a question only
of enquirers (not disputers), who neither affirm, nor deny, but
examine ; or, 2, It is a question between disputants, whereof
the one affirms, and the other denies, that a bat is a bird. And
then the question is barely about the signification of one, or
both these words ; in that they not having both the same com-
plex ideas, to which they give these two names ; one holds, and
the other denies, that these two names may be affirmed one of
another. Were they agreed in the signification of these two
names, it were impossible they should dispute about them. For
they would presently, and clearly, see (were that adjusted
between them), whether all the simple ideas of the more general
name bird, were found in the" complex ideas of a bat, or no ; and
so there could be no doubt, whether a bat were a bird, or no.
And here I desire it may be considered, and carefully examined,
whether the greatest part of the disputes in the world, are not

CLU. AND ABUSE OF WORDS. 429

merely verbal, and about the signification of words ; and
whether, if the terms they are made in, were defined and re-
duced in their signification (as they must be, where they signify
any thing) to determined collections of the simple ideas they
do, or should, stand for, those disputes would not end of them-
selves, and immediately vanish. I leave it then to be consi-
dered, what the learning of disputation is, and how well they are
employed for the advantage of themselves, or others, whose
business is only the vain ostentation of sounds, i. e. those who
spend their lives in disputes and controversies. When I shall
see any of those comlaatants strip all his terms of ambiguity
and obscurity (which every one may do in the words he uses
himself), I shall think him a champion for knowledge, truth,
and peace, and not the slave of vain-glory, ambition, or a
party.

§. 8. First, remedy to use no word without an idea. — To
remedy the defects of speech before-mentioned, to some degree,
and to prevent the inconveniences that follow from them, I ima-
gine the observation of these following rules may be of use, till
somebody better able shall judge it worth his while, to think
more maturely on this matter, and oblige the world with his
thoughts on it.

First, A man should take care to use no word without a sio*-
nification, no name without an idea for which he makes it stand.
This rule will not seem altogether needless, to any one who
shall take the pains to recollect how often he has met with
such words as instinct, sympathy, antipathy, Sec, in the dis-
course of others, so made use of, as he might easily conclude,
that those that used them, had no ideas in their mind to which
they applied them ; but spoke them only as sounds, which
usually served instead of reasons, on the like occasions. Not
but that these words, and the like, have very proper sio-nifi-
cations in which they may be used ; but there being no natural
connexion between any words, and any ideas, these, and any
other, may be learned by rote, and pronounced or writ by men
who have no ideas in their minds, to which they have annexed
them, and for which they make them stand ; which is necessary
they should, if men would speak intelligibly even to themselves
alone.

§. 9. Secondly, to have distinct ideas annexed to them in
modes. — Secondly, It is not enough a man uses his words as
signs of some ideas'; those he annexes them to, if they be
simple, must be clear and distinct ; if complex, must be deter-
minate, i. e. the precise collection of simple ideas settled in
the mind, with that sound annexed to it, as the sign of that

430 REMEDIES OF THE IMPERFECTION Book 3.

precise determined collection, and no other. This is very
necessary in names of modes, and especially moral words,
which having no settled objects in nature, from whence their
ideas are taken, as from their original, are apt to be very confused.
Justice is a word in every'man's mouth, but most commonly with
a very undetermined loose signification: which will always be
so, unless a man has in his mind a distinct comprehension of the
component parts that complex idea consists of; and if it be
decompounded, must be able to resolve it still on, till he at last
comes to the simple ideas that make it up ; and unless this be
done, a man makes an ill use of the word ; let it be justice,
for example, or any other. I do not say, a man need stand
to recollect, and make this analysis at large, every time the word
justice comes in his way ; but this, at least, is necessary, that
he have so examined the signification of that name, and settled
the idea of all its parts in his mind, that he can do it when
he pleases. If one who makes this complex idea of justice
to be such a treatment of the person or goods of another, as is
according to law, hath not a clear and distinct idea what law
is, which makes a part of his complex idea of justice, it is
])lain, his idea of justice itself will be confused and imperfect.
This exactness \n\\, perhaps, be judged very troublesome ; and
therefore most men will think they may be excused from set-
tling the complex ideas of mixed modes so precisely in their
minds. But yet I must say, till this be done, it must not be
wondered, that they have a great deal of obscurity and confusion
in their own minds, and a great deal of wrangling in their dis-
courses with others.

§ . 10. Distinct and conformable in substances. — In the names of
substances, for a right use of them, something more is required
than barely determined ideas ; in these, the names must also be
conformable to things, as they exist ; but of this, I shall have
occasion to speak naore at large by-and-by. This exactness is
absolutely necessary in enquiries after philosophical knowledge,
and in controversies about truth. And though it would be well,
too, if it extended itself to common conversation, and the ordi-
nary affairs of life ; yet I think that is scarce to be expected.
Vulgar notions suit vulgar discourses : and both, though con-
fused enough, yet serve pretty well the market, and the wake.
Merchants and lovers, cooks and tailors, have words M'here-
withal to dispatch their ordinary affairs ; and so, I think, might
philosophers and disputants too, if they had a mind to under-
stand, and to be clearly understood.

§. 11. Thirdly, propriety. — Thirdly, It is not enough that
men have ideas, determined ideas, for which they make these

CA. 11. AND ABUSE OF WORDS. 431

signs stand ; but they must also take care to apply their words
as near as may be, to such ideas as common use has annexed
them to. For words, especially of languages already framed,
being no man's private possession, but the common measure of
commerce and communication, it is not for any one, at pleasure,
to change the stamp they are current in ; nor alter the ideas
they are fixed to ; or at least, when there is a necessity so to do,
he is bound to give notice of it. Men's intentions in speaking
are, or at least should be, understood ; which cannot be without
frequent explanations, demands, and other the like incom-
modious interruptions, where men do not follow common use.
Propriety of speech, is that which gives our thoughts entrance
into other men's minds with the greatest ease and advantage ; and
therefore deserves some part of our care and study, especially
in the names of moral words. The proper signification and use
of terms, is best to be learned from those, who in their writings
and discourses, appear to have had the clearest notions, and
applied to them their terms with the exactest choice and fitness.
This way of using a man's words, according to the propriety of
language, though it have not always the good fortune to be
understood ; yet most commonly leaves the blame of it on him,
who is so unskilful in the language he speaks, as not to under-
stand it, when made use of as it ought to be.

§. 12. Fourthly, to make known their meaning. — Fourthly,
But because common use has not so visibly annexed any significa-
tion to words, as to make men know always certainly what they
precisely stand for ; and because men, in the improvement of their
knowledge, come to have ideas different from the vulgar and
ordinary received ones, for which they must either make new
words (which men seldom venture to do, for fear of being
thought guilty of affectation, or novelty), or else must use old
ones, in a new signification. Therefore, after the observation of
the foregoing rules, it is sometimes necessary for the ascer-
taining the signification of words, to declare their meaning ;
where either common use has left it uncertain and loose (as it
has in most names of very complex ideas), or where the term
being very material in the discourse, and that upon which it
chiefly turns, is liable to any doubtfulness or mistake.

§. 13. And that three ways. — As the ideas men's words stand
for, are of different sorts ; so the way of making known the
ideas they stand for, when there is occasion, is also different.
For though defining be thought the proper way to make known
the proper signification of words ; yet there are some words
that will not be defined, as there are others, whose precise
meaning cannot be made known, but by definition; and perhaps

432 REMEDIES OF THE IMPERFECTION Book'i.

a third, which partakes somewhat of both the other, as we shall
see in the names of simple ideas, modes, and substances.

§. 14. First, in simple ideas hy synonymous terms, or shoioing.
— First, When a man makes use of the name of any simple
idea, which he perceives is not understood, or is in danger to
be mistaken, he is obliged, by the laws of ingenuity, and the
end of speech, to declare his meaning, and make known what
idea he makes it stand for. This, as has been shown, cannot
be done by definition ; and, therefore, when a synonymous word
fails to do it, there is but one of these ways left. First, Some-
times the naming the subject, wherein that simple idea is to be
found, will make its name to be understood by those who are
acquainted with that subject, and know it by that name. So
to make a countryman understand what fueille morte colour
signifies, it may suffice to tell him, it is the colour of withered
leaves falling in autumn. Secondly, But the only sure way of
making known the signification of the name of any simple idea,
is by presenting to his senses that subject, which may produce
it in his mind, and make him actually have the idea that word
stands for.

§. 15. Secondly, in mixed modes, hy dejinition. — Secondly, In
mixed modes, especially those belonging to morality, being most
of them such combinations of ideas as the mind puts together
of its own choice ; and whereof there are not always standing-
patterns to be found existing ; the signification of their names
cannot be made known, as those of simple ideas, by any show-
ino- ; but in recompense thereof, may be perfectly and exactly
defined. For they being combinations of several ideas that
the mind of man has arbitrarily put together, without reference
to any archetypes, men may, if they please, exactly know tlie
ideas that go to each composition, and so both use these words
in a certain and undoubted signification, and perfectly declare,
when there is occasion, what they stand for. This, if well
considered, would lay great blame on those, who make not
their discourses about moral things very clear and distinct.
For since the precise signification of the names of mixed modes,
or, which is all one, the real essence of each species, is to be
known, they being not of nature's, but man's, making, it is a
great negligence and perverseness to discourse of moral things
with uncertainty and obscurity, which is more pardonable in
treating of natural substances, where doubtful terms are hardly
to be avoided, for a quite contrary reason, as we shall see by-
and-by.

§. 16. Morality ccqyahle of demonstration. — Upon this ground
it is that I am bold to think, that morality is capable of

Ch. 11. AND ABUSE OF WORDS. 433

demonstration, as well as mathematics : since the precise real
essence of the things moral words stand for, may be perfectly
known; and so the congruity, or incongruity, of the things
themselves be certainly discovered, in which consists perfect
knowledge. Nor let any object, that the names of substances
are often to be made use of in morality, as well as those of
modes, from which will arise obscurity. For as to substances,
when concerned in moral discourses, their divers natures are
not so much enquired into, as supposed ; v. g. when we say,
that man is subject to law; we mean nothing by man, but a
corporeal rational creature: what the real essence or other
qualities of that creature are in this case, is no way considered.
And therefore, whether a child or changeling be a man in a
physical sense, may amongst the naturalists be as disputable
as it will, it concerns not at all the moral man, as I may call
him, which is this immoveable unchangeable idea, a corporeal
rational being. For were there a monkey, or any other creature,
lo be found, that has the use of reason, to such a degree, as to
be able to understand general signs, and to deduce consequences
about general ideas, he would no doubt be subject to law, and
in that sense, be a man, how much soever he differed in shape
from others of that name. The names of substances, if they
be used in them, as they should, can no more disturb moral,
than they do mathematical, discourses; where, if the mathe-
matician speaks of a cube or globe of gold, or any other
body, he has his clear settled idea, which varies not, though
it may, by mistake, be applied to a particular body, to which it
belongs not.

§. 17. Definitions can make moral discourses clear. — This I
have here mentioned by the by, to show of what consequence
it is for men, in their names of mixed modes, and consequently
in all their moral discourses, to define their words when there is
occasion : since thereby moral knowledge may be brought to so
great clearness and certaintj^. And it must be great want of
ingenuity (to say no worse of it), to refuse to do it; since a
definition is the only way whereby the precise meaning of
moral words can be known : and yet a way whereby their
meaning may be known certainly, and without leaving any room
for any contest about it. And therefore the negligence or
perverseness of mankind cannot be excused, if their discourses
in morality be not much more clear than those in natural
philosophy ; since they are about ideas in the mind, which are
none of them false or disproportionate; they having no external
beings for the archetypes wliich they are referred to, and must
correspond with. It is far easier for men to frame in their

F V

434 REMEDIES OF THE IMPERFECTION Book 3.

minds an idea, which shall be the standard to which they will
give the name justice, with which pattern so made, all actions
that agree shall pass under that denomination ; than, having seen
Aristides, to frame an idea that shall in all things be exactly
like him, who is as he is, let men make what idea they please
of him. For the one, they need but know the combination of
ideas that are put together in their own minds; for 'the
other, they must enquire into the whole nature, and abstruse
hidden constitution, and various qualities, of a thing existing
without them.

§. 18. And is the only way. — Another reason that makes the
defining of mixed modes so necessary, especially of moral
words, is what I mentioned a little before, viz., that it is the
only way whereby the signification of the most of them can be
known with certainty. For the ideas they stand for, being for
the most part such, whose component parts nowhere exist
together, but scattered and mingled with others, it is the mind
alone that collects them, and gives them the union of one idea :
and it is only by words enumerating the several simple ideas
which the mind has united, that we can make known to others
what their names stand for ; the assistance of the senses in this
case not helping us, by the proposal of sensible objects, to
show the ideas which our names of this kind stand for, as it
does often in the names of sensible simple ideas, and also to
some degree in those of substances.

§. 19. Thirdly, in substances, by showing and defining. —
Thirdly, For the explaining the signification of the names of
substances, as they stand for the ideas we have of their distinct
species, both the before-mentioned ways, viz., of showing and
defining, are requisite, in many cases, to be made use of. For
there being ordinarily in each sort some leading qualities, to
which we suppose the other ideas, which make up our complex
idea of that species, annexed ; we forwardly give the specific
name to that thing, wherein that characteristical mark is found,
which we take to be the most distinguishing idea of that
species. These leading or characteristical (as I may so call
them) ideas, in the sorts of animals and vegetables, are (as has
been before remarked, ch. vi, §. 29, and ch. ix, §. 15) mostly
figure, and in inanimate bodies, colour, and in some, both
together. Now,

§. 20. Ideas of the leading qualities of substances, are best
got by showing. — These leading sensible qualities are those
which make the chief ingredients of our specific ideas, and
consequently the most observable and invariable part in the
definitions of our specific names, as attributed to sorts of

Ch. 11. AND ABUSE OF WORDS. 435

substances coming under our knowledge. For though the
sound man, in its own nature, be as apt to signify a complex
idea made up of animality and rationality, united in the same
subject, as to signify any other combination ; yet used as a
mark to stand for a sort of creatures we count of our own kind,
perhaps the outward shape is as necessary to be taken into our
complex idea, signified by the word man, as any other we find
in it ; and therefore why Plato's animal implume hipes latis
unguibus, should not be as good a definition of the name man,
standing for that sort of creatures, will not be easy to show :
for it is the shape, as the leading quality, that seems more to
determine that species, than a faculty of reason, which appears
not at first, and in some never. And if this be not allowed to
be so, I do not know how they can be excused from murder, who
kill monstrous births (as we call them), because of an unordi-
nary shape, without knowing whether they have a rational soul,
or no ; which can be no more discerned in a well-formed, than
ill-shaped, infant, as soon as born. And who is it has informed
us, that a rational soul can inhabit no tenement, unless it has
just such a sort of frontispiece ; or can join itself to, and
inform no sort of body but, one that is just of such an outward
structure ?

§. 21. Now these leading qualities are best made known
by showing, and can hardly be made known otherwise. For
the shape of a horse, or cassuary, will be but rudely and
imperfectly imprinted on the mind by words; the sight of the
animals doth it a thousand times better : and the idea of the
particular colour of gold is not to be got by any description of
it, but only by the frequent exercise of the eyes about it, as is
evident in those who are used to this metal, who will frequently
distinguish true from counterfeit, pure from f ^ulterate, by the
sight ; where others (who have as good eyes, but yet, by use,
have not got the precise nice idea of that peculiar yellow) shall
not perceive any difference. The like may be said of those
other simple ideas peculiar in their kind to any substance; for
which precise ideas, there are no peculiar names. The particular
ringing sound there is in gold, distinct from the sound of other
bodies, has no particular name annexed to it, no more than the
particular yellow that belongs to that metal.

§. 22. The ideas of their powers, best by definition.— Bnt
because many of the simple ideas that make up our specific
ideas of substances, are powers which lie not obvious to our
seases in the things as they ordinarily appear ; therefore, in the
signification of our names of substances, some part of the signi-

F V 2

436 REMEDIES OF THE IMPERFECTION Book^.

ficatioii will be better made known by enumerating those simple
ideas, than by showing the substances itself. For he that, to
the yellow shining colour of gold got by sight, shall, from my
enumerating them, have the ideas of great ductility, fusibility,
fixedness, and solubility in aqua regia, will have a more perfect
idea of gold, than he can have by seeing a piece of gold, and
thereby imprinting in his mind only its obvious qualities. But
if the formal constitution of this shining, heavy, ductile thing
(from whence all these its properties flow), lay open to our
senses, as the formal constitution or essence of a triangle does,
the signification of the word gold might as easily be ascertained
as that of triangle.

§. 23. A reflection on the knowledge of spirits. — Hence we
may take notice, how much the foundation of all our knowledge
of corporeal things lies in our senses. For how spirits, separate
from bodies (whose knowledge and ideas of these things, are
certainly much more perfect than ours), know them, we have no
notion, no idea at all. The whole extent of our knowledge, or
imagination, reaches not beyond our own ideas, limited to our
ways of perception. Though yetit be not to be doubted, that spirits
of a higher rank than those immersed in flesh, may have as clear
ideas of the radical constitution of substances, as we have of a
triangle, and so perceive how all their properties and operations
flow from thence : but the manner how they come by that
knowledge, exceeds our conceptions.

§. 24. Ideas also of substances must he cQnfor7nahle to things.
— i3ut though definitions will serve to explain the names of
substances, as they stand for our ideas ; yet they leave them
not without great imperfection, as they stand for things. For
our names of substances being not put barely for our ideas, but
being made use of ultimately to represent things, and so are
put in their place, their signification must agree with the truth
of things, as well as with men's ideas. And therefore in sub-
stances, we are not always to rest in the ordinary complex idea,
commonly received as the signification of that word, but must
go a little farther, and enquire into the nature and properties
of the things themselves, and thereby perfect, as much as we
can, our ideas of their distinct species; or else learn them
from such as are used to that sort of things, and are experienced
in them. For since it is intended their names should stand for
such collections of simple ideas as do really exist in things
themselves, as well as for the complex idea in other men's
minds, which in their ordinary acceptation they stand for:
therefore to define their names right, natural history is to be
enquired into ; and their properties are, with care and exami-

Ch. n. AND ABUSE OF WORDS. 437

nation, to be found out. For it is not enough, for the avoiding
inconveniences in discourse and arguings about natural bodies
and substantial things, to have learned from the propriety of
the language, the common, but confused, or very imperfect,
idea to which each word is applied, and to keep them to that
idea in our use of them: but we must, by acquainting ourselves
with the history of that sort of things, rectify and settle our
complex idea, belonging to each s])ecific name ; and in
discourse with others (if we find them mistake us), we ought
to tell what the complex idea is that we make such a name
stand for. This is the more necessary to be done by all those
who search after knowledge and philosophical verity, in that
children being taught words whilst they have but imperfect
notions of things, apply them at random, and without much
thinking, and seldom frame determined ideas to be signified by
them. Which custom (it being easy, and serving w^ell enough
for the ordinary affairs of life and conversation), they are apt to
continue, when they are men : and so begin at the wrong end,
learning words first, and perfectly, but make the notions to
which they apply those words afterwards, very overtly. By
this means it comes to pass, that men speaking the proper
language of their countiy, i. e., according to grammar-rules of
that language, do yet speak very improperly of things them-
selves ; and by their arguing one with another, make but small
progress in the discoveries of useful truths, and the knowledge
of thino;s, as they are to be found in themselves, and not in our
imaginations ; and it matters not much, for the improvement of
our knowledge, how they are called.

§. 25. Not easy to he made so. — It were, therefore, to be
wished, that men, versed in physical enquiries, and acquainted
with the several sorts of natural bodies, would set down those
simple ideas, wherein they observe the individuals of each sort
constantly to agree. This would remedy a great deal of that
confusion which comes from several persons applying the same
name to a collection of a smaller or greater number of sen-
sible qualities, proportionably as they have been more or less
acquainted with, or accurate in examining the qualities of, any
sort of things, which come under one denomination. But a
dictionary of this sort, containing, as it were, a natural history,
requires too many hands, as well as too much time, cost, pains,
and sagacity, ever to be hoped for ; and till that be done, we
must content ourselves with such definitions of the names
of substances, as explain the sense men use them in. And
it would be well, where there is occasion, if they would afford
us so much. This yet is not usually done; but men talk to one

438 REMEDIES OF THE IMPERFECTION, &c. Book 3.

another, and dispute in words, whose meaning is not agreed
between them, out of a mistake, that the signification of com-
mon words are certainly established, and the precise ideas they
stand for, perfectly known ; and that it is a shame to be igno-
rant of them. Both which suppositions are false ; no names
of complex ideas having so settled determined significations,
that they are constantly used for the same precise ideas. Nor
is it a shame for a man not to have a certain knowledge of any
thing, but by the necessary ways of attaining it ; and so it is no
discredit not to know what precise idea any sound stands for in
another man's mind, without he declare it to me by some other
way than barely using that sound, there being no other way,
without such a declaration, certainly to know it. Indeed, the
necessity of communication, by language, brings men to an
agreement in the signification of common words, within some
tolerable latitude, that may serve for ordinary conversation ;
and so a man cannot be supposed wholly ignorant of the ideas
which are annexed to words by common use, in a language
familiar to him. But common use being but a very uncertain
rule, which reduces itself at last to the ideas of particular men,
proves often but a very variable standard. But though such a
dictionary, as I have above-mentioned, will require too much
time, cost, and pains, to be hoped for in this age ; yet, methinks
it is not unreasonable to propose, that words standing for
things which are known and distinguished by their outward
shapes, should be expressed by little draughts and prints made
of them. A vocabulary made after this fashion, would, perhaps,
with more ease, and in less time, teach the true signification of
many terms, especially in languages of remote countries or
ages, and settle truer ideas in men's minds of several things
whereof we read the names in ancient authors, than all the large
and laborious comments of learned critics. Naturalists, that
treat of plants and animals, have found the benefit of this way :
and he that has had occasion to consult them, will have reason
to confess, that he has a clearer idea of apium or ibex, from a
little print of that herb, or beast, than he could have from a long
definition of the names of either of them. And so, no doubt, he
would have of scrigil and sistrum, if instead of a curry-comb
and cymbal, which are the English names dictionaries render
them by, he could see stamped in the margin, small pictures of
these instruments, as they were in use amongst the ancients.
Toga, tunica, pallium, are words easily translated by gown,
coat, and cloak ; but we have thereby no more true ideas of the
fashion of those habits amongst the Romans, than we have of
the faces of the tailors who made them. Such things as these

Ch,\. KNOAVLKDGE. 439

which the eye distinguishes by their shapes, would be best let
into the mind by draughts made of them, and more determine
the signification of such words, than any other words set for
them, or made use of to define them. But this only by
the by.

§. 26. Fifthly, hy constancy in their signification. — Fifthly, If
men will not be at the pains to declare the meaning of theirwords,
and definitions of their terms are not to be had ; yet this is the
least that can be expected, that in all discourses, wherein one
man pretends to instruct or convince another, he should use the
same word constantly in the same sense ; if this were done
(which nobody can refuse without great disingenuity), many of
the books extant might be spared ; many of the controversies in
dispute would be at an end, several of those great volumes,
swollen with ambiguous words, now used in one sense, and by-
and-by in another, would shrink into a very narrow compass;
and many of the philosophers' (to mention no other) as well as
poets' works, might be contained in a nut-shell.

§. 27. When the variation is to he explained. — But after all,
the provision of words is so scanty in respect of that infinite
variety of thoughts that men, wanting terms to suit their precise
notions, will, notwithstanding their utmost caution, be forced
often to use the same word, in somewhat different senses. And
though in the continuation of a discourse, or the pursuit of an
argument, there can be hardly room to digress into a particular de-
finition, as often as a man varies the signification of any term ;
yet the import of the discourse will, for the most part, if there
be no designed fallacy, sufficiently lead candid and intelligent
readers into the true meaning of it ; but where that is not suf-
ficient to guide the reader, there it concerns the writer to
explain his meaning, and show in what sense he there uses that
term.

BOOK IV. CHAPTER I.

OF KNOWLEDGE IN GENERAL.

§. 1. Our knowledge conversant about our ideas. — Since the
mind, in all its thoughts and reasonings, hath no other imme-
diate object but its own ideas, which it alone does or can con-
template, it is evident that our knowledge is only conversant
about them.

§. 2. Knowledge is the perception of the agreement or dis-
agreement of two ideas. —KwowXeAg^ then seems to me to be

F F 4

440 KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

nothing but the perception of the connexion and agreement, or
disagreement and repugnancy, of any of our ideas. In this
alone it consists. Where this perception is, there is knowledge ;
and where it is not, there, though we may fancy, guess, or
believe, yet we always come short of knowledge. For when we
know that white is not black, what do we else but perceive, that
these two ideas do not agree ? When we possess ourselves with
the utmost security of the demonstration, that the three angles
of a triangle are equal to two right ones j what do we more
but perceive, that equality to two right ones, does neces-
sarily agree to, and is inseparable from, the three angles of a
trianp'le?*

* The placing of certainty, as Mr. Locke does in the perception of the agreement or
disagreement of our ideas, the Bishop of Worcester suspects may be of dangerous con-
sequence to that article of faith which he has endeavoured to defend : to which Mr.
Locke answers : (a) " Since your lordship hath not, as I remember, shown, or gone about
to show, how this proposition, viz., that certainty consists in the perception of the agree-
ment or disagreement of two ideas, is opposite or inconsistent with that article of faith
which your lordship has endeavoured to defeiid ; it is plain, it is but your lordship's fear,
tliat it may be of daugerous consequence to it, which, as I humbly conceive, is no proof
that it is any way inconsistent with that article.

" Nobody, I think, can blame your lordship, or any one else,forbeing concerned for any
article of the Christian faith ; but if that concern (as it may, and as we know it has done)
makes any one apprehend danger, where no danger is, are we, therefore, to give up and
condemn any proposition, because any one, though of the first rank and magnitude, fears
it may be of dangerous consequence to any truth of religion, vv^ithout showing that it is so?
If such fears be the measures whereby to judge of truth and falsehood, the affirming that
there are antipodes, would be still a heresy ; and the doctrine of the motion of tlie eartli
must be rejected, as overthrowing the truth of the scripture ; for of that dangerous con-
sequence it has been apprehended to be, by many learned and pious divines, out of their
great concern for religion. And yet, notwithstanding those great apprehensions of
v/hat dangerous consequence it might be, it is now universally received by learned men,
as an undoubted truth ; and writ for by some, whose belief of the scripture is not at all
questioned ; and particularly, very lately, by a divine of the Church of England, with
great strength of reason, in liis wonderfully ingenious New Theory of the Earth.

" The reason your lordship gives of your fears, that it may be of such dangerous con-
sequence to that article of faith which your lordship endeavours to defend, though it
occur in more places than one, is only this, viz.. That it is made use of by ill men to do
mischief, i. e. to oppose that article of faith, which your lordship hath endeavoured to
defend. But, my lord, if it be a reason to lay by any thing as bad, because it is, or may
be, used to an ill purpose, I know not what will be innocent enough to be kept. Arms,
which were made for our defence, are sometimes made use of to do mischief; and yet
tliey are not thought of dangerous consequence for all that. Nobody lays by his sword
and pistols, or thinks them of such dangerous consequence as to be neglected, or thrown
away, because robbers, and the worst of men, sometimes make use of them to take away
honest men's lives or goods. And the reason is, because they were designed, and will
serve, to preserve them. And who knows but this may be the present case ? If your
lordship thinks, that placing of certainty in the perception of the agreement or disagree-
ment of ideas, be to be rejected as false, because you apprehend it may be of dangerous
consequence to that article of faith : ou the other side, perhaps others, with me, may
think it a defence against error, and so (as being of good use) to be received and
adhered to.

" I would not, my lord, be hereby thought to set up my own, or any one's, judgment

("a) In his second letter to the Bishop of Worcester.

Ch. 1. KNOWLEDGE. 441

§. 3. This afjreemmt fourfold.— But to understand a little
more distinctly, wherein this agreement or disagreement consists,
I think we may reduce it all to these four sorts : 1, Identity or

against your lordship's. But I have said tliis only to show, whilst the argument lies
for or against tlie truth of any proposition, barely in an imagination that it may be of con-
sequence to the supporting or overthrowing of any remote truth ; it will be impossible,
that way, to determine of the truth or falsehood of that proposition. For imagination
will be set up against imagination, and the stronger probably will be againstyour lordship ;
the strongest imaginations being usually in the weakest heads. The oidy way, in this
case, to put it past doubt, is to show the inconsistency of the two propositions ; and then
it will be seen, tliat oue overthrows the other; the true, the false one.

" Your lordship says, indeed, this is a new metliod of certainty. 1 will not say so
myself, for fear of deserving a second reproof from your lordship, for being too forward
to assume to myself the honour of being an original. But this, I tliink, gives nie occasion,
and will excuse me from being thought impertinent, if I ask your lordship whether there
be any other, or older, method of certainty ? and what it is ? For if there be no other,
nor older than this, either this was always the method of certainty, and so mine is no new
one ; or else the world is obliged to me for this new one, after having been so long in
the want of so necessary a thing as a method of certainty. If there be an older, I am
sure your lordship cannot but know it ; your condemning mine as new, as well as your
thorough insight into antiquity, cannot but satisfy every body that you do. And there-
fore to set the world right in a thing of that great concernment, and to overthrow mine,
and thereby prevent the dangerous consequence there is in my having unreasonably
started it, will not, I humbly conceive, misbecome your lordship's care of that article you
have endeavoured to defend, nor the good-will you bear to truth in general. For 1 will
be answerable for myself, that 1 shall ; and I tliink 1 may be for all others, that they all
will give oft' the placing of certainty in the perception of the agreement or disagreement
of ideas, if your lordship will be pleased to show that it lies in any thing else.

" But truly, not to ascribe to myself an invention of what has been as old as knowledge
is in the world, I must own I am not guilty of v^^liat your lordship is pleased to call
starting new methods of certainty. Knowledge, ever since there has been any in the
world, has consisted in one particular action in the mind ; and so, I conceive, will con-
tinue to do to the end of it. And to start new methods of knowledge, or certainty (for
they are to me the same thing), i. e. to find out and propose new methods of attaining
knowledge, either with more ease and quickness, or in things yet unknown, is what I
think nobody could blame ; but this is not that which your lordship here means, by new
metliods of certainty. Your lordship, I think, means by it, the placing of certainty in
something, wherein either it does not consist, or else wherein it was not placed before
now ; if this be to be called a new method of certainty. As to the latter of these, I
shall know whether I am guilty or no, when your lordship will do me the favour to tell
me wherein it was placed before ; which your lordship knows I professed myself ignorant
of, when I writ my book, and so 1 am still. But if starting new methods of certainty,
be the placing of certainty in sometliing wherein it does not consist ; whether I have
done that or no, I must appeal to the experience of mankind.

" There are several actions of men's minds, that they are conscious to themselves of
performing, as willing, believing, knowing, 6;c., which they have so particular a sense of,
that they can distinguish them one from another ; or else they could not say, when they
willed, when they believed, and when they knew any thing. But though these actions
were different enough from one another, not to be confounded by those who spoke of
them, yet nobody, that I had met with, had, in their writings, particularly set down
wherein the act of knowing precisely consisted.

" To this reflection upon the actions of my own mind, the subject of my Essay con-
cerning Human Understanding naturally led me ; wherein if I have done any tiling new,
it has been to describe to others, more particularly than had been done before, what it is
their minds do when they perform that action which they call knowing ; and if, upon
examination, tliey observe I liavo given a true account of that action of their minds in
all the parts of it, I suppose it will be in vaiu to dispute against what they find and feel
in themselves. And if I have not told theni right and exactly wliat they find and feel

442 KNOWLEDGE. Book A.

diversity. 2, Gelation. 3, Co-existence or necessary con-
nexion. 4, Real existence.

§. 4. First, of identity or diversity. — First, As to the first

in tliemselves, when their minds perform the act of knowing, what I have said will be all
in vaui ; men will not be persuaded against their senses. Knowledge is an internal per-
ception of their minds ; and if, when they reflect on it, they find it is not what 1 have
said it is, my groundless conceit will not be hearkened to, but be exploded by every
body, and die of itself; and nobody need to be at any pains to drive it out of the world.
So impossible is it to find out, or start new methods of certainty, or to have them received
if any one places it in any thuig, but in that wherein it really consists ; much less can
any one be in danger to be misled into error, by any such new, and to eyery one visibly,
senseless project. Can it be supposed, that any one could start a new method of seeing,
and persuade men thereby, that tliey do not see what they do see ? Is it to be feared that
any one can cast such a mist over their eyes, that they should not know when they see,
and so be led out of their way by it ?

" Knowledge, I find in myself, and I conceive in others, consists in the perception of
the agreement or disagreement of the immediate objects of the mind in thinking, which
I call ideas ; but whether it does so in others or no, must be determined by their own
experience, reflecting upon the action of their mind in knowing; for that I caimot alter,
nor, I think, they themselves. But whether they will call those immediate objects of
their minds in thinking, ideas or no, is perfectly in their own choice. If they dislike that
name, they may call them notions or conceptions, or how they please ; it matters not, if
they use them so as to avoid obscurity and confusion. If they are constantly used in
the same and a known sense, every one has the liberty to please himself in his terms ;
there lies neither truth, nor error, nor science, in that ; though those that take them for
things, arid not for what they are, bare arbitrary signs of our ideas, make a great deal ado
often about them ; as if some greater matter lay in the use of this or that souBd. All that
I know, or can imagine, of difference about them, is, that those words are always best,
whose significations are best known in the sense they are used ; and so are least apt to
breed confusion.

" My lord, your lordship hath been pleased to find fault with my use of the new terra,
ideas, without telling me a better name for the immediate objects of the mind in thinking.
Your lurdship also has been pleased to find fault with my definition of knowledge, with-
out doing me the favour to give me a better. For it is only about my definition of know-
ledge, that all this stir concerning certainty is made. For, with me, to know and to be
certain, is the same thing; what I know, that I am certain of; and what I am certain of,
that I know. What reaches to knowledge, I think may be called certainty ; and what
comes short of certainty, I think cannot be called knowledge ; as your lordship could not
but observe in the 18th section of chap. 4, of my 4th book, which you have quoted.

" My definition of knowledge stands thus : ' knowledge seems to me to be nothing but
the perception of the connexion and agreement, or disagreement and repugnancy, of any
of our ideas.' This definition your lordship dislikes, and apprehends it may be of dan-
gerous consequence as to that article of Christian faith which your lordship hath endea-
voured to defend. For this there is a very easy remedy ; it is but for your lordship to
set aside this definition of knowledge by giving us a better, and this danger is over. But
your lordship chooses rather to have a controversy with my book for having it in it, and
to put me upon the defence of it ; for which I must acknowledge myself obliged to your
lordship for affording me so much of your time, and for allowing me the honour of con-
versing so much with one so far above me in all respects.

" Your lordship says, it may be of dangerous consequence to that article of Christian
faith which you have endeavoured to defend. Though the laws of disputing allow bare
denial as a suflicient answer to sayings, without any offer of a proof; yet, my lord, to
show how willing I am to give your lordship all satisfaction, in what you apprehend may
be of dangerous consequence in my book, as to that article, I shall not stand still sullenly,
and put your lordship upon the difficulty of showing wherein that danger lies ; but shall,
on the other side, endeavour to show your lordship that that definition of mine, whether
true or false, right or wrong, can be of no dangerous consequence to that article of faith.
The reason which I shall offer for it, is this : because it can be of no consequence to it
at all.

Ch. 1. KNOWLEDGE. 443

sort of agreement or disagreement, viz., identity or diversity,
it is the first act of the mind, when it has any sentiments or
ideas at all, to perceive its ideas, and so far as it perceives them,
to know each what it is, and thereby also to perceive their dif-
ference, and that one is not another. This is so absolutely
necessary, that without it, there could be no knowledge,
no reasoning, no imagination, no distinct thoughts at all. By
this, the mind clearly and infallibly perceives each idea to
agree with itself, and to be what it is ; and all distinct ideas to
disagree, i. e. the one not to be the other; and this it does
without pains, labour, or deduction; but at first view, by its
natural powder of perception and distinction. And though men
of art have reduced this into those general rules, " What is, is ;"
and " It is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be ;"
for ready application in all cases, wherein there may be occasion
to reflect on it ; yet it is certain, that the first exercise of this

" That which your lordship is afraid it may be dangerous to, is an article of faith : that
which your lordship labours and is concerned for, is tlie certainty of faith. Now, my
lord, 1 humbly conceive the certainty of faith, if your lordship tliinks fit to call it so, has
nothing to do with the certainty of knowledge. As to talk of the certainty of faith, seems
all one to me, as to talk of the knowledge of believing, a way of speaking not easy to
me to understand. «

" Place knowledge in what you' will ; start what new methods of certainty you please,
that are apt to leave men's minds more doubtful than before ; place certainty on such
ground as will leave little or no knowledge in the world (for these are tlie arguments your
lordship uses against my definition of knowledge) : this shakes not at all, nor in the least
concerns, the assurance of faith ; that is quite distinct from it, neither stands nor falls with
knowledge.

" Faith stands by itself, and upon grounds of its own ; nor can be removed from tliem,
and placed on those of knowledge. Their grounds are so far from being tl)e same, or
having any thing common, that when it is brought to certainty, faith is destroyed ; h is
knowledge then, and faith no longer.

" With what assurance soever of belir-ving I assent to any article of faith, so that I
steadfastly venture my all upon it, it is still but believing. Bring it to certainty, and it
ceases to be faith. ' I believe that Jesus Christ was crucified, dead, and buried, rose
again the third day from the dead, and ascended into heaven:' let now such methods of
knowledge or certainty be started, as leave men's minds more doubtful than before ; let
the grounds of knowledge be resolved into what any one pleases, it touches not my faith ;
the foundation of that stands as sure as before, and cannot be at all shaken by it ; and one
may as well say, that any thing that weakens the sight, or casts a mist bi'fore the eyes,
endangers the hearing; as that any thing which alters the nature of knowledge (if that
could be done), should be of dangerous consequence to an article of faith.

" Whether then I am, or am not, mistaken, in the placing certainty in the perception of
the agreement or disagreement of ideas ; whether this account of knowledge be true or
false, enlarges or straitens the bounds of it more than it should ; faith stands still upon its
own basis, which is not at all altered by it ; and every article of that has just the same
unmoved foundation, and the very same credibility, that it had before. So that, my lord,
whatever I have said about certainty, and how much soever I may be out in it, if I am
mistaken, your lordship has no reason to aj)prehend any danger to any article of faith
from thence; everyone of tliem stands upon the same bottom it did before, out of the
reach of what belongs to knowledge and certainty. And thus much of my way of cer-
tainty by ideas; which, I hope, will satisfy your lordship how far it is from being dan-
gerous to any article of the Christian faith whatsoever."

444 KNOWLEDGE. Book A.

faculty is about particular ideas. A man infallibly knows, as
soon as ever he has them in his mind, that the ideas he calls
white and round, are the very ideas they are ; and that they are
not other ideas, which he calls red or square. Nor can any
maxim or proposition in the world, make him know it clearer or
surer than he did before, and without any such general rule.
This, then, is the first agreement or disagreement which the mind
perceives in its ideas ; which it always perceives at first sight;
and if there ever happens any doubt about it, it will always be
found to be about the names, and not the ideas themselves,
whose identity and diversity will always be perceived, as soon
and as clearly as the ideas themselves are ; nor can it possibly
be otherwise.

§. 5. Secondly, relative. — Secondly, The next sort of agree-
ment or disagreement the mind perceives in any of its ideas,
may, I think, be called relative, and is nothing but the percep-
tion of the relation between any two ideas of what kind soever,
whether substances, modes, or any other. For since all distinct
ideas must eternally be known not to be the same, and so be
universally and constantly denied one of another, there could be
no room for any positive knowledge at all, if we could not per-
ceive any relation between our ideas, and find out the agreement
or disagreement they have one with another, in several ways the
mind takes of comparing them.

§. 6. Thirdly, of co-existence. — Thirdly, The third sort of
agreement or disagreement to be found in our ideas, which the
perception of the mind is employed about, is co-existence, or
non-co-existence, in the same subject ; and this belongs par-
ticularly to substances. Thus when we pronounce concerning
gold, that it is fixed, our knovv^ledge of this truth amounts to no
more but this, that fixedness, or a power to remain in the fire
unconsumed, is an idea that always accompanies, and is joined
with that particular sort of yellowness, weight, fusibility, mal-
leableness and solubility in aqua regia, which make our complex
idea signified by the word gold.

§. 7. Fourthly, of real existence. — Fourthly, The fourth and
last sort is, that of actual and real existence agreeing to any idea.
Within these four sorts of agreement or disagreement, is, I sup-
pose, contained all the knowledge we have, or are capable of:
for all the enquiries that we can make concerning any of our
ideas, all that we know or can affirm concerning any of them, is,
that it is, or is not, the same with some other ; that it does, or
does not, always co-exist with some other idea in the same sub-
ject ; that it has this or that relation to some other idea ; or that
it has a real existence without the mind. Thus, blue is not vel-

Ch. 1. KNOWLEDGE. 445

low, is of identity. Two triangles upon equal bases between
two parallels, are equal, is of relation : iron is susceptible of
magnetical impressions, is of co-existence : God is, is of real
existence. Though identity and co-existence are truly nothing
but relations, yet they are so peculiar ways of agreement or dis-
agreement of our ideas, that they deserve well to be considered
as distinct heads, and not under relation in general ; since they
are so different grounds of affirmation and negation, as will easily
appear to any one who will but reflect on what is said in several
places of this essay. I should not proceed to examine the
several degrees of our knowledge, but that it is necessary first
to consider the different acceptations of the word knowledge.

§. 8. Knoivhdge actual or habitual. — There are several ways
wherein the mind is possessed of truth; each of which is called
knowledge.

First, There is actual knowledge, which is the present view
the mind has of the agreement or disagreement of any of its
ideas, or of the relation they have one to another.

Secondly, A man is said to know any proposition, which having
been once laid before his thoughts, he evidently perceived the
agreement or disagreement of the ideas vi^hereof it consists ; and
so lodged it in his memory, that whenever that proposition comes
again to be reflected on, he, without doubt or hesitation, embraces
the right side, assents to, and is certain of, the truth of it. This,
I think, one may call habitual knowledge : and thus a man may
be said to know all those truths, which are lodged in his memory
by a foregoing clear and full perception, whereof the mind is
assured past doubt, as often as it has occasion to reflect on them.
For our finite understandings being able to think clearly and
distinctly but on one thing at once, if men had no knowledge
of any more than what they actually thought on, they would all
be very ignorant : and he that knew most, would know but one
truth, that being all he was able to think on at one time.

§. 9. Habitual knoivledge two-fold. — Of habitual knowledge,
there are also, vulgarly speaking, two degrees :

First, The one is of such truths laid up in the memory, as
whenever they occur to the mind, it actually perceives the rela-
tion is between those ideas. And this is in all those truths,
whereof we have an intuitive knowledge, where the ideas them-
selves, by an immediate view, discover their agreement or dis-
agreement one with another.

Secondly, The other is of such truths, whereof the mind
having been convinced, it retains the memory of the conviction,
without the proofs. Thus a man that remembers certanily, that
he once perceived the demonstration, that the three angles of a

446 KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

triangle are equal to two right ones, is certain that he knows it,
because he cannot doubt the truth of it. In his adherence
to a truth, where the demonstration, by which it was at first
known, is forgot, though a man may be thought rather to believe
his memory, than really to know, and this way of entertaining
a truth seemed formerly to me like something between opinion
and knowledge, a sort of assurance which exceeds bare belief,
for that relies on the testimony of another ; yet upon a due ex-
amination, I find it comes not short of perfect certainty, and is
in effect true knowledge. That which is apt to mislead our first
thoughts into a mistake in this matter, is, that the agreement or
disagreement of the ideas in this case is not perceived, as it was
at first, by an actual view of all the intermediate ideas, whereby
the agreement or disagreement of those in the proposition was
at first perceived ; but by other intermediate ideas, that show
the agreement or disagreement of the ideas contained in the pro-
position whose certainty we remember. For example, in this
proposition, that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two
right ones, one who has seen and clearly perceived the demon-
stration of this truth, knows it to be true, when that demonstra-
tion is gone out of his mind ; so that at present it is not actually
in view, and possibly cannot be recollected ; but he knows it in
a different way from what he did before. The agreement of the
two ideas joined in that proposition, is perceived, but it is by the
intervention of other ideas than those which at first produced
that perception. He remembers, i. e. he knows (for remembrance
is but the reviving of some past knowledge), that he was once
certain of the truth of this proposition, that the three angles of
a triangle are equal to two right ones. The immutability of the
same relations Ijetween the same immutable things, is now the
idea that shows him, that if the three angles of a triangle were
once equal to two right ones, they will always be equal to two
right ones. And hence he comes to be certain, that what was
once true in the case, is always true ; what ideas once agreed, will
always agree ; and consequently what he once knew to be true,
he will always know to be true, as long as he can remember that
he once knew it. Upon this ground it is, that particular demon-
strations in mathematics afford general knowledge. If then the
perception that the same ideas will eternally have the same habi-
tudes and relations, be not a sufficient ground of knowledge, there
could be no knowledge of general propositions in mathematics ;
for no mathematical demonstration would be any other than par-
ticular : and when a man had demonstrated any proposition con-
cerning one triangle or circle, his knowledge would not reach
beyond that particular diagram. If he would extend it farther.

Ch. 2. DEGREES OF KNOWLEDGE. 447

lie must renew his demonstration in another instance, before he
could know it to be true in another like triangle, and so on ; by
which means, one could never come to the knowledge of any
general propositions. Nobody, I think, can deny that Mr.
Newton certainly knows any proposition, that he now at any time
reads in his book, to be true, though he has not in actual view
that admirable chain of intermediate ideas, whereby he at first
discovered it to be true. Such a memory as that, able to retain
such a train of particulars, may be well thought beyond the reach
of human faculties. When the very discovery, perception, and
laying together that wonderful connexion of ideas, is found to
surpass most readers' comprehension. But yet it is evident the
author himself knows the proposition to be true, remembering he
once saw the connexion of those ideas, as certainly as he knows
such a man wounded another, remembering that he saw him run
him through. But because the memory is not always so clear
as actual perception, and does in all men more or less decay in
length of time, this, amongst other differences, is one, which
shows, that demonstrative knowledge is much more imperfect
than intuitive, as we shall see in the following chapter.

CHAPTER II.

OF THE DEGREES OF OUR KNOWLEDGE.

ijj. 1. Intuitive — All our knowledge consisting, as I have said,
in the view the mind has of its own ideas, which is the utmost
light and greatest certainty, we with our faculties, and in our way
of knowledge, are capable of, it may not be amiss to consider
a little the degrees of its evidence. The different clearness of
our knowledge seems to me to lie in the different way of percep-
tion the mind has of the agreement or disagreement of any of its
ideas. For if we will reflect on our own ways of thinking, we
shall find, that sometimes the mind perceives the agreement or
disagreement of two ideas immediately by themselves, without
the intervention of any other : and this, I think, we may call
intuitive knowledge. For in this, the mind is at no pains in
proving or examining, but perceives the truth, as the eye doth
light, only by being directed towards it. Thus the mind per-
ceives that white is not black, that a circle is not a triangle, that
three are more than two, and equal to one and two. Such kind of
truths the mind perceives at the first sight of the ideas together,
by bare intuition, without the intervention of any other idea ;
and this kind of knowledge is the clearest, and most certain.

448 DEGREES OF KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

that human frailty is capable of. This part of knowledge is ir-
resistible, and like bright sun-shine, forces itself immediately to
be perceived, as soon as ever the mind turns its view that way ;
and leaves no room for hesitation, doubt, or examination, but the
mind is presently filled with the clear light of it. It is on this
intuition, that depends all the certainty and evidence of all our
knowledge, which certainty every one finds to be so great, that
he cannot imagine, and therefore not require, a greater ; for a
man cannot conceive himself capable of a greater certainty, than
to know that any idea in his mind is such as he perceives it to
be ; and that two ideas, wherein he perceives a difference, are
different, and not precisely the same. He that demands a greater
certainty than this, demands he knows not what, and shows only
that he has a mind to be a sceptic, without being able to be so.
Certainty depends so wholly on this intuition, that in the next
degree of knowledge, which I call demonstrative, this intuition is
necessary in all the connexions of the intermediate ideas, without
which, we cannot attain knowledge and certainty.

§. 2. Demonstrative. — The next degree of knowledge is
where the mind perceives the agreement or disagreement of any
ideas, but not immediately. Though wherever the mind perceive
the agreement or disagreement of any of its ideas, there be certain
knowledge ; yet it does not always happen, that the mind sees
that agreement or disagreement, which there is between them,
even where it is discoverable ; and in that case, remains in ig-
norance, and at most, gets no farther than a probable conjecture.
The reason why the mind cannot always perceive presently the
agreement or disagreement of two ideas, is because those ideas
concerning whose agreement or disagreement the inquiry
is made, cannot by the mind be so put together, as to show
it. In this case then, when the mind cannot so bring its
ideas together, as by their immediate comparison, and, as it were,
juxta-position, or application one to another, to perceive their
agreement or disagreement, it is fain, by the intervention of other
ideas (one or more, as it happens), to discover the agreement or
disagreement which it searches ; and this is that which we call
reasoning. Thus the mind being willing to know the agreement
or disagreement in bigness, between the three angles of a tri-
angle, and two right ones, cannot by an immediate view and com-
paring them, do it ; because the three angles of a triangle can-
not be brought at once, and be compared with any one or two
angles ; and so of this the mind has no immediate, no intuitive,
knowledge. In this case, the mind is fain to find out some other
angles, to which the three angles of a triangle have an equality ;
and finding those equal to two right ones, comes to know their
equality to two right ones.

CA. 2. DEGREES OF KNOWLEDGE. 449

§. 3. Depends on proofs. — Those intervening ideas, which
serve to show the agreement of any two others, are called proofs ;
and where the agreement or disagreement is by this means plainly
and clearly perceived, it is called demonstration, it being shown
to the understanding, and the mind made to see that it is so. A
quickness in the mind to find out these intermediate ideas (that
shall discover the agreement or disagreement of any other), and
to apply them right, is, I suppose, that which is called sagacity.

§. 4. But not so easy. — This knowledge by intervening proofs,
though it be certain, yet the evidence of it is not altogether so
clear and bright, nor the assent so ready, as an intuitive know-
ledge. For though in demonstration, the mind does at last per-
ceive the agreement or disagreement of the ideas it considers,
yet it is not without pains and attention; there must be more
than one transient view to lind it. A steady application and
pursuit are required to this discovery ; and there must be a pro-
gression by steps and degrees, before the mind can in this way
arrive at certainty, and come to perceive the agreement or re-
pugnancy between two ideas that need proofs, and the use of
reason to show it.

§. 5. Not without precedent. — Another difference between
intuitive and demonstrative knowledge, is, that though in
the latter all doubt be removed, when, by the intervention of
the intermediate ideas, the agreement or disagreement is per-
ceived ; yet before the demonstration there was a doubt, which,
in intuitive knowledge, cannot happen to the mind that has its
faculty of perception left to a degree capable of distinct ideas,
no more than it can be a doubt to the eye (that can distinctly
see white and black), whether this ink and this paper be all of a
colour. If there be sight in the eyes, it will at first glimpse,
without hesitation, perceive the words printed on this paper, dif-
ferent from the colour of the paper ; and so if the mind have the
faculty of distinct perceptions, it will perceive the agreement or
disagreement of those ideas that produce intuitive knowledge.
If the eyes have lost the faculty of seeing, or the mind of per-
ceiving, we in vain enquire after the quickness of sight in one,
or clearness of perception in the other.

§. 6 Not so clear. — It is true, the perception produced by
demonstration, is also very clear ; yet it is often with a great
abatement of that evident lustre and full assurance, that always
accompany that which I call intuitive, like a face reflected by
several mirrors one to another, where, as long as it retains the
similitude and agreement with the object, it produces a know-
ledge ; but it is still in every successive reflection with a lessen-
ing of that perfect clearness and distinctness, which is in the

G o

460 DEGREES OF KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

first ; till at last, after many removes, it has a ^reat mixture of
dimness, and is not at first sight so knowable, especially to weak
eyes. Thus it is with knowledge, made out by a long- train of
proofs.

§. 7. Each step must have intuitive evidence. — Now, in every
step reason makes in demonstrative knowledge, there is an in-
tuitive knowledge of that agreement or disagreement, it seeks
with the next intermediate idea, which it uses as a proof: for if
it were not so, that yet would need a proof; since without the
perception of such agreement or disagreement, there is no
knowledge produced. If it be perceived by itself, it is intuitive
knowledge ; if it cannot be perceived by itself, there is need of
some intervenino- idea, as a common measure to show their aoree-
ment or disagreement. By which it is plain, that every step in
reasoning, that produces knowledge, has intuitive certainty :
which when the mind perceives, there is no more required, but
to remember it, to make the agreement or disagreement of the
ideas, concerning which we enquire, visible and certain. So
that to make any thing a demonstration, it is necessary to per-
ceive the immediate agreement of the intervening ideas, whereby
the agreement or disagreement of the two ideas under exami-
nation (whereof the one is always the first, and the other the last,
in the account) is found. This intuitive perception of the
agreement or disagreement of the intermediate ideas, in each
step and progression of the demonstration, must also be carried
exactly in the mind, and a man must be sure that no part is left
out ; which, 'because in long deductions, and the use of many
proofs, the memory does not always so readily and exactly re-
tain ; therefore it comes to pass, that this is more imperfect than
intuitive knowledge, and men embrace often falsehood for demon-
strations.

§. 8. Hence the mistake, ex prtBcognitis et prceconcessis. —
The necessity of this intuitive knowledge, in each step of scien-
tifical or demonstrative reasoning, gave occasion, I imagine, to
that mistaken axiom, that all reasoning was ex prcBcognitis et
prteconcessis ; which how far it is mistaken, I shall have occasion
to show more at large, when I come to consider propositions,
and particularly those propositions which are called maxims ; and
to show that it is by a mistake, that they are supposed to be the
foundations of all our knowledge and reasonings.

§. 9. Demonstration not limited to quantity. — It has been
generally taken for granted, that mathematics alone are capable
of demonstrative certainty ; but to have such an agreement or
disagreement, as may intuitively be perceived, being, as I
imagine, not the privilege of the ideas of number, extension, and

€h.'2. DEGREES OF KNOWLEDGE. 451

figure alone, it may possibly be the want of due method and ap-
plication in us, and not of sufficient evidence in things, that de-
monstration has been thong'ht to have so little to do in other
parts of knowledge, and been scarce so much as aimed at by
any but mathematicians. For whatever ideas we have, wherein
the mind can perceive the immediate agreement or disagreement
that is between them, there the mind is capable of intuitive
knowledge ; and where it can perceive the agreement or dis-
agreement of any two ideas, by an intuitive perception of the
agreement or disagreement they have with any intermediate
ideas, there the mind is capable of demonstration, which is
not limited to ideas of extension, figure, number, and their modes.
§. 10. Why it has been so thouyht. — The reason why it has
been generally sought for, and supposed to be only in those, I
imagine has been not only the general usefulness of those
sciences ; but because, in comparing their equality or excess,
the modes of numbers have every the least difference very clear
and perceivable ; and though in extension, every the least excess
is not so perceptible; yet the mind has found out ways to
examine and discover demonstratively the just equality of two
angles, or extensions, or figures ; and both these, i. e. numbers
and figures, can be set down by visible and lasting marks,
wherein the ideas under consideration are perfectly determined,
which, for the most part, they are not, where they are marked only
by names and words.

§. 11. But in other simple ideas, whose modes and differences
are made and counted by degrees, and not quantity, we have
not so nice and accurate a distinction of their differences, as to
perceive and find ways to measure their just equality, or the least
differences. For those other simple ideas being appearances or
sensations, produced in us by the size, figure, number, and
motion of minute corpuscles singly insensible, their different
degrees also depend upon the variation of eome or all of those
causes ; which, since it cannot be observed by us in particles of
matter, whereof each is too subtile to be perceived, it is impos-
sible for us to have any exact measures of the different degrees
of these simple ideas. For supposing the sensation or idea we
name whiteness, be produced in us by a certain number of o-lo-
bules, which having a verticity about their own centres, strike
upon the retina of the eye, with a certain degree of rotation,
as well as progressive swiftness ; it will hence easily follow, that
the more the superficial parts of any body are so ordered, as to
reflect the greater number of globules of light, and to give
them the proper rotation, which is fit to produce this sensation
of white in us, the more white will that body appear, that from

G G 2

452 DEGREES OF KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

an equal space sends to the retina the greater number of such
corpuscles, with that peculiar sort of motion, I do not say, that
the nature of light consists in very small round globules, nor
of whiteness, in such a texture of parts as gives a certain rota-
tion to these globules, when it reflects them ; for I am not now
treating physically of light or colours : but this, I think, I may
say, that I cannot (and I would be glad any one would make in-
telligible that he did) conceive how bodies without us can any
ways affect our senses, but by the immediate contact of the sen-
sible bodies themselves, as in tasting and feeling, or the impulse
of some insensible particles coming from them, as in seeing,
hearing, and smelling ; by the different impulse of which parts,
caused by their different size, figure, and motion, the variety of
sensations is produced in us.

§. 12. Whether then they be globules, or no ; or whether
they have a verticity about their own centres, that produces the
idea of whiteness in us ; this is certain, that the more particles
of light are reflected from a body, fitted to give them that pecu-
liar motion, which produces the sensation of whiteness in us ;
and possibly, too, the quicker that peculiar motion is, the whiter
does the body appear, from which the greater number are reflected,
as is evident in the same piece of paper put in the sun beams,
in the shade, and in a dark hole ; in each of which, it will pro-
duce in us the idea of whiteness in far diflferent degrees.

§. 13. Not knowing therefore what number of particles,
nor what motion of - them, is fit to produce any precise
degree of whiteness, we cannot demonstrate the certain equality
of any two degrees of whiteness, because we have no certain
standard to measure thiem by, nor means to distinguish
every the least real difference, the only help we have, being
from our senses, which in this point fails us. But where the
diflTerence is so great, as to produce in the mind clearly
distinct ideas, whose differences can be perfectly retained,
there these ideas of colours, as we see in diflferent kinds,
as blue and red, are as capable of demonstration, as ideas of
number and extension. What I have here said of whiteness
and colours, I think, holds true in all secondary qualities, and
their modes.

§. 14. Sensitive knowledge of particular existence. — These
two, viz., intuition and demonstration, are the degrees of our
knowledge ; whatever comes short of one of these, with what
assurance soever embraced, is but faith, or opinion, but not
knowledge, at least in all general truths. There is, indeed,
another perception of the mind, employed about the particular
existence of finite beings without us ; which going beyond

Ch. 2. DEGREES OF KNOWLEDGE. 453

bare probability, and yet not reaching perfectly to either of
the foregoing degrees of certainty, passes under the name of
knowledge. There can be nothing more certain, than that the
idea we receive from an external object, is in our minds ; this is
intuitive knowledge. But whether there be any thing more than
barely that idea in our minds, whether we can thence certainly
infer the existence of any thing without us, which corresponds
to that idea, is that, whereof some men think there may be a
question made, because men may have such ideas in their
minds, when no such thing exists, no such object affects their
senses. But yet here, I think, we are provided with an evi-
dence, that puts us past doubting : for I ask any one, whether
he be not invincibly conscious to himself of a different per-
ception, when he looks on the sun by day, and thinks on it by
night ; when he actually tastes wormwood, or smells a rose, or
only thinks on that savour, or odour ? We as plainly find the
difference there is between an idea revived in our minds by
our own memory, and actually coming in our minds by our
senses, as we do between any two distinct ideas. If any one
say, a dream may do the same thing, and all these ideas may
be produced in us without any external objects, he may please
to dream that I make him this answer : First, That it is no
great matter, whether I remove this scruple, or no : where all is
but dream, reasoning and arguments are of no use ; truth and
knowledge nothing. Secondly, That I believe he will allow a
very manifest difference between dreaming of being in the
fire, and being actually in it. But yet if he be resolved to
appear so sceptical, as to maintain, that what I call being
actually in the fire, is nothing but a dream ; and we cannot
thereby certainly know, that any such thing as fire actually
exists without us ; I answer, that we certainly finding, that
pleasure or pain follows upon the application of certain objects
to us, whose existence we perceive, or dream that we perceive,
by our senses : this certainly is as great as our happiness or
misery, beyond which, we have no concernment to know, or to
be. So that, I think, we may add to the two former sorts of
knowledge, this also, of the existence of particular external
objects, by that perception and consciousness we have of the
actual entrance of ideas from them, and allow these three degrees
of knowledge, viz., intuitive, demonstrative, and sensitive : in
each of which, there are different degrees and ways of evidence
and certainty.

§. 15. Knowledge not always clear, where the ideas are so. —
But since our knowledge is founded on, and employed about,
our ideas only, will it not follow from thence, that it is conform-

G G 3

454 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book 4..

able to our ideas; and that where our ideas are clear and
distinct, or obscure and confused, our knowledge will be so
too ? To which I answer. No : for our knowledge consisting in
the perception of the agreement or disagreement of any two
ideas, its clearness or obscurity, consists in the clearness or
obscurity of that perception, and not in the clearness or
obscurity of the ideas themselves : v. g. a man that has as
clear ideas of the angles of a triangle, and of equality to two
right ones, as any mathematician in the world, may yet have
but a very obscure perception of their agreement, and so have
but a very obscure knowledge of it. But ideas which, by
reason of their obscurity or otherwise, are confused, cannot
produce any clear or distinct knowledge ; because as far as any
ideas are confused, so far the mind cannot perceive clearly,
whether they agree or disagree. Or to express the same thing
in a way less apt to be misunderstood. He that hath not
determined ideas to the words he uses, cannot make propo-
sitions of them, of whose truth he can be certain.

CHAPTER III.

OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE.

^. 1. Knowledge, as has been said, lying in the perception
of the agreement or disagreement of any of our ideas, it follows
from hence, that.

First, no farther than we have ideas. — First, We can have
knowl'edo-e no farther than we hav^e ideas.

§. 2. Secondly, no farther than we can perceive their
agreement or disagreement. — Secondly, That we can have no
knowledge farther than we can have perception of their agree-
ment, or disagreement : which perception being, 1, Either by
intuition, or the immediate comparing any two ideas; or, 2, By
reason, examining the agreement or disagreement of two ideas
by the intervention of some others: or, 3, By sensation, perceiving
the existence of particular things. Hence it also follows,

§. 3, Thirdly, intuitive knowledge extends itself not to all
the relations of all our ideas. — Thirdly, That we cannot have an
intuitive knowledge, that shall extend itself to all our ideas,
and all that we would know about them ; because we cannot
examine and perceive all the relations they have one to another
by juxta-position, or an immediate comparison one with another.
Thus having the ideas of an obtuse and an acute angled triangle,
both drawn from equal bases, and between parallels, I can, by

Ch. 3. EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 455

intuitive knowledge, perceive the one not to be the other ; but
cannot that way know, whether they be equal, or no ; because
their agreement or disagreement in equality can never be
perceived by an immediate comparing them : the difference of
figure makes their parts incapable of an exact immediate appli-
cation ; and therefore there is need of some intervening qua-
lities to measure them by, which is demonstration, or rational
knowledge.

§. 4. Fourthly, nor demonstrative knovjledge. — Fourtldy, It fol-
lows also, from what is above observed, that our rational knowledge
cannot reach to the whole extent of our ideas : because between
two different ideas we would examine, we cannot always find
such mediums, as we can connect one to another with an intuitive
knowledge, in all the parts of the deduction; and wherever that
fails, we come short of knowledge and demonstration.

§. 5. Fifthly, sensitive knowledge narrower than either. —
^ Fifthly, Sensitive knowledge reaching no farther than the
existence of things actually present to our senses, is yet much
narrower than either of the former.

§. 6. Sixthly, our knowledge therefore narrower than our ideas.
— Sixthly, From all which, it is evident, that the extent of our
knowledge comes not only short of the reality of things, but even
of the extentof our own ideas. Though our knowledge be limited
to our ideas, and cannot exceed them either in extent or perfec-
tion; and though these be very narrow bounds, in respect of the
extentof All-Being, and far short of what we may justly imagine to
be in some even created understandings, not tied down to the dull
and narrow information which is to be received from some few,
and not very acute, ways of perception, such as are our senses ; yet
it would be well with us, if our knowledge were but as large as
our ideas, and there were not many doubts and enquiries con-
cerning the ideas we have, whereof we are not, nor I believe
ever shall be in thi^ world, resolved. Nevertheless, I do not
question but that human knowledge, under the present circum-
stances of our beings and constitutions, may be carried much
farther than it hitherto has been, if men would sincerely, and
with freedom of mind, employ all that industry and labour of
thought, in improving the means of discovering truth, which
they do for the colouring or support of falsehood, to maintain
a system, interest, or party, they are once engaged in. But yet,
after all, I think I may, without injury to human perfection, be
confident, that our knowledge would never reach to all we might
desire to know concerning those ideas we have; nor be able to
surmount all the difiiculties, and resolve all the questions, that
might arise concerning any of them. We have the ideas of a square,

G G 4

456 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

a circle, and equality ; and yet, perhaps, shall never be able to
find a circle equal to a square, and certainly know that it is so-
We have the ideas of matter and thinking *, but possibly shall

• Against that assertion of Mr. Locke, that " possibly we shall never be able to know,
whether any mere material being tliinks or no," &c. the Bishop of Worcester argues thus :
*' If this be true, then, for all tliat we can know by our ideas of matter and thinking,
matter may have a power of thinking : and, if this hold, then it is impossible to prove a
flpiritual substance in us from the idea of thinking : for how can we be assured by our
ideas, that God hath not given such a power of thinking to matter so disposed as our
bodies are? especially since it is said (a), ' That, in respect of our notions, it is not much
more remote from our comprehension to conceive that God can, if he pleases, superadd to
our idea of matter a faculty of thinking, than that he should superadd to it another sub-
stance, with a faculty of thinking.' Whoever asserts this, can never prove a spiritual sub-
stance in us from a faculty of thinking, because he cannot know, from the idea of matter
and thinking, that matter so disposed cannot think : and he cannot be certain, that God
hath not framed the matter of our bodies so as to be capable of it."

To which Mr. Locke (h) answers thus : " Here your lordship argues, that upon my prin-
ciples it cannot be proved that there is a spiritual substance in us. To which, give me
leave, with submission, to say, that I think it may be proved from my principles, and I
think I have done it ; and the proof in my book stands thus : First, we experiment in our-
selves thinking. The idea of this action, or mode of thinking, is inconsistent witli the idea
of self-subsistence, and, tlierefore, has a necessary connexion with a support or subject of
inhesion : the idea of tliat support is what we call substance ; and so from thinking ex-
perimented in us, we have a proof of a thinking substance in us, which in my sense is a
spirit. Against this your lordship will argue, tliat, by what I have said of the possibility
that God may, if he pleases, superadd to matter a faculty of thinking, it can never be
proved that there is a spiritual substance in us, because, upon that supposition, it is pos-
sible it may be a material substance that thinks in us. I grant it ; but add, that the general
idea of substance being the same every where, the modification of thinking, or the power
of thinking, joined to it, makes it a spirit, without considering what other modifications it
lias, as whether it has the modification of solidity or no. As, on the otlier side, substajice,
that has the modification of solidity, is matter, whether it has the modification of thinking,
or no. And, therefore, if your lordship means by a spiritual, an immaterial, substance, I
grant I have not proved, nor upon my principles can it be proved (your lordship meaning,
as I think you do, demonstratively proved), that there is an immaterial substance in us that
thinks. Though, I presume, from what I have said about this supposition of a system of
matter, tliinking (c) (which there demonstrates that God is immaterial), will prove it in the
liighest degree probable, that the thinking substance in us is immaterial. But your lord-
ship thinks not probably enough, and by charging the want of demonstration upon my
principle, that the thinking thing in us is immaterial, your lordship seems to conclude it
demonstrable from principles of philosophy. The demonstration I should with joy receive
from your lordship, or any one. For though all the great ends of morality and religion are
well enough secured without it, as I have shown (d\ yet it would be a great advance
of our knowledge, in nature and philosophy.

" To what 1 have said in my book, to show that all the great ends of religion and
morality are secured barely by the immortality of the soul, without a necessary supposition
tliat the soul is immaterial, 1 crave leave to add, that immortality may, and shall be, annexed
to that, which in its own nature is neither immaterial nor immortal, as the apostle expressly
declares in these words, (e) ' For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal
must put on immortality.'

" Perhaps my using the word spirit for a thinking substance, without excluding
materiality out of it, will be thought too great a liberty, and such as deserves censure,
because I leave immateriality out of the idea I make it a sign of. I readily own, that
words should be sparingly ventured on in a sense wholly new ; and nothing but absolute
necessity can excuse tlie boldness of using any term in a sense whereof we can produce

(o) Essay on Human Understanding, b. 4, c. 3, $. 6.
(6) In bis first letter to the Bishop of Worcester,
(c) B. 4, c. 10, «. 16. (d) B. 4, c. 3, ^ (j. («) 1 Cor. av, 53.

Ch.S. EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDG li. 457

never be able to know, whether any mere material being thmks
or no ; it being impossible for us, by the contemplation of our
own ideas, without revelation, to discover, whether Omnipotency

no example. But, in the present case, I think I have great autliorities to justify me.
The soul is agreed, on all hands, to be tliat in us whicli thinks. And he that will look
into the book of Cicero's Tusculan Questions, and into the sixth book of Virgil's ^neid,
will find, that these two great men, wlio, of all the Romans, best understood philosophy,
thought, or at least did not deny, the soul to be a subtile matter, which might come under
the name of aura, or ignis, or (Zther ; and this soul, tliey both of them called spiritus : in
the notion of which, it is plain, they included only thought and active motion, without the
total exclusion of matter. Whether they thought right in this, I do not say ; that is not
the question ; but wliether they spoke properly, when they called an active, tliinking,
subtile substance, out of which they excluded only gross and palpable matter, spirilus,
spirit. I think that nobody will deny, that if any among the Romans can be allowed to
speak properly, Tully and Virgil are the two who may most securely be depended on for
it : and one of them, speaking of the soul, says, Dum spiritus has regel artns ; and the other.
Vita contiueter corpore et spirilit. Where it is plain by corpus, he means (as generally
every where) only gross matter that may be felt and handled, as appears by these words :
Si cor, aiit sa7iguis, aut cerclrrum est animus: certe, quoniam est corpus, interibit cum
reliquo corpore ; si anima est, forte dissipabitur : si ig7iis, extinguetur, Tusc. Qua3st. 1. i ,
c. 11. Here Cicero opposes corpus to ignis and anima, i. e. aura, or breadth. And the
foundation of that his distinction of the soul, from that which he calls corpus or body, he
gives a little lower in these words : Tanta ejus tenuitas utfugiat aciem, ibid, c. 22. Nor was
it the heatlien world alone that had this notion of spirit ; the most enlightened of all the
ancient people of God, Solomon himself, speaks after the same manner (a) : ' That which
befaileth the sons of men, befalleth beasts; even one tiling befalletli them ; as the one dieth,
so dietli the other; yea, they have all one spirit' So I translate the Hebrew word HIT,
^lere, for so I find it translated the very next verse but one : (ft) ' Who knoweth the spirit
of man that goeth upward, and the spirit of the beast that goeth downwards to the earth ?'
In which places, it is plain, that Solomon applies the word nil, and our translators of him
the word spirit, to a substance, out of which materiality was not wholly excluded, unless
the spirit of a beast that goeth downwards to the earth, be imiuaterial. Nor did the way
of speaking in our Saviour's time vary from this : St. Luke tells us (c), ' That when our
Saviour, after his resurrection, stood in the midst of them, tliey were affrighted, and sup-
posed tliat they had seen 7rusv/4,cc,' the Greek word which always answers spirit in
English : and so the translators ol ilie Bible render it here, they supposed that they had
seen a spirit. But our Saviour says to them, ' Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I
myself; liandle me, and see; for a spirit hath not Hesh and bones, as you see me have.'
Which words of our Saviour put the same distinction between body and spirit, that Cicero
did in the place above cited, viz.. That the one was a gross coinpages that could be felt
and handled ; and the other such as Virgil describes the ghost or soul of Anchises.

' Ter conatus ibi collo dare brachia circum,
Ter frustra comprensa manus elfugit imago.
Par levibus ventis volucrique simillima sorano.' (d)

" I would not be thought hereby to say, that spirit never docs signify a purely imma-
terial substance. In that sense tlie scripture, I take it, speaks, when it says God is a
spirit ; and in that sense I have used it ; and in tliat sense I have proved from my prin-
ciples that there is a spiritual substance, and am certain that there is a spiritual
immaterial substance: which is, I humbly conceive, a direct answer to your lord-
ship's question in the beginning of this argument, viz., IIow we come to be certain
that there are spiritual substances, supposing this principle to be true, tliat tlie simple
ideas by sensation and reflection, are the sole matter and foundation of all our reasoning ?
But this hinders not, but that if God, tliat infinite, omnipotent, and perfectly immaterial
Spirit, should please to give to a System of very subtile matter, sense and motion, it might
with propriety of speech be called spirit, though materiality were not excluded out of its
complex idea. Your lordship proceeds : ' It is said, indeed, elsewhere (e), that it is re-

(<0 Eccl. iii, 19. (/)) Ibid 21. (c) Ch. xxiv, 37. {d) Lib. vi. (e) B. 4, c. 10, §. 5.

458 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

has not given to some systems of matter fitly disposed, a power
to perceive and think, or else joined and fixed to matter so
disposed, a thinking immaterial substance : it being, in respect

pugTiaiit to the idea of senseless matter, that it sliould put into itself sense, perception, and
knowledge. But this doth not reach the present case : wliich is not what matter can do
of itself, but what matter prepared by an omnipotent hand can do. And wliat certainty
can we have that he hath not done it ? We can have none from tlie ideas, for those are
given up in this case, and consequently we can have no certainty, upon these principles,
whetlier we liave any spiritual substance witliin us or not.'

" Your lordship in this paragraph proves, that, from what I say, we can have no cer-
tainty whetlier we have any spiritual substance in us or not. If by spiritual substance,
your lordship means an immaterial substance in us,^as you speak, I grant what your lord-
ship says is true, that it cannot upon these principles be demonstrated. But I must crave
leave to say at the same time, that upon these principles it can be proved, to the highest
degree of probability. If by spiritual substance, your lordship means a thinking substance,
I must dissent froai your lordsliip, and ^ay, that we can have a certainty, upon ray. prin-
ciples, that there is a spiritual substance in us. In short, my lord, upon my principles,
i. e. from the idea of thinking, we can have a certainty tliat there is a thinking
substance in us; from hence v^e have a certainty that there is an eternal thinking
substance. This thinking substance, which has been from eternity, I have proved to be
immaterial. This eternal, immaterial, thinking substance, has put into us a thinking sub-
stance, which, wliether it be a material or immaterial substance, cannot be infallibly de-
monstrated from our ideas : though from them it may be proved, tliat it is to the highest
degree probable that it is immaterial."

Again, the Bishop of Worcester undertakes to prove from Mr. Locke's principles, that
we may be certain, " That the first eternal tliiuking Being, or omnipotent Spirit, cannot,
if he wou'd, give to certain systems of created sensible matter, put together as he sees fit,
some degrees of sense, perception, and thought."

To which, Mr. Locke has made the following answer in liis third letter.

" Your first argument I take to be tliis ; that according to me, the knowledge we have
being by our ideas, and our idea or matter in general being a solid substance, and our idea
of body a solid extended figured substance ; if I admit matter to be capable of thinking, I
confound the idea of matter, with the idea of a sjjirit : to which I answer. No ; no more
than I confound the idea of matter with the idea of a horse, when I say that matter in
general is a solid extended substance ; and that a horse is a material animal, or an ex-
tended solid substance, with sense and spontaneous motion.

" The idea of matter is an extended solid substance ; wherever there is sucli a sub-
stance, there is matter ; and liie essence of matter, whatever other qualities, not con-
tained in that essence, it shall please God to superadd to it. For example : God creates
an extended solid substance, witiiout the superadding any thing else to it, and so we may
consider it at rest : to som.e parts of it he superadds motion, but it has still the essence
of matter ; other parts of it he frames into plants, with all the excellencies of vegetation,
life, and beauty, which is to be found in a rose- or peach tree, &c., above the essence
of matter in general, but it is still but matter : to other parts he adds sense and spon-
taneous motion, and those otlier properties that are to l;e found in an elephant. Hitherto
it is not doubted but the power of God may go, and that the properties of a rose, a peach,
or an elephant, superadded to matter, change not the properties of matter ; but matter is
iu these things matter still. But if one venture to go one step farther, and say, God may
give to matter thought, reason, and volition, as well as sense and spontaneous motion,
there are men ready presently to limit the power of the omnipotent Creator, and tell us
he cannot do it ; because it destroys the essence, or changes the essential properties, of
matter. To make good which assertion, they have no more to say, but that thought and
reason are not included iu the essence of matter. I grant it ; but whatever excellency,
not contained in its essence, be superadded to matter, it does not destroy the essence of
matter, if it leaves it an extended solid substance : wherever that is, there is the essence
of matter : and if every thing of greater perfection, superadded to such a substance,
destroys the essence of matter, what will become of tlie essence of matter in a plant or an
animal, whose properties far exceed those of a mere extended solid substance ?

Ch. 3. EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 459

of our notions, not much move remote from our^'comprehension
to conceive, that God can, if he pleases, superadd to matter a
faculty of thinking, than that he should superadd to it another

" But it is farther urged, that we cannot conceive how matter can think. I grant it :
but to argue from thence, that God, therefore, cannot give to matter a faculty of thinking,
is to say, God's omnipoteocy is limited to a narrow compass, because man's understanding
is so; and brings down God's infinite power to the size of our capacities. If God can
give no power to any parts of matter, but wliat men can account for from the essence of
matter in general ; if all such qualities and properties must destroy the essence, or change
the essential properties, of matter, which are fo our conceptions above it," and we cannot
conceive to be the natural consequence of that essence ; it is plain, that the essence of
matter is destroyed, and its essential properties changed, in most of the sensible parts of
this our system. For it is visible, tliat all the planets have revolutions aTjout certain
remote centres, which I would liave any one explain, or make conceivable by the bare
essence, or natural powers depending on the essence of matter in general, witliout some-
thing added to that essence, which we cannot conceive ; for the moving of matter in a
crooked line, or the attraction of matter by matter, is all that can be said in the case ;
either of which it is above our reach to derive from tlie essence of matter or body in
general ; though one of these two must unavoidably be allowed to be superadded in this
instance to the essence of matter in general. The omnipotent Creator advised not with us
in the making of the world, and his ways are not the less excellent, because they are past
finding out.

" In the next place, the vegetable part of the creation is not doubted to be wholly
material ; and yet he that will look into it, will observe excellencies and operations in
this part of matter, which he will not find contained in the essence of matter in general,
nor be able to conceivi; how they can be produced by it. And will he therefore say, that
the essence of matter is destroyed in them, because they have properties and operations'
not contained in the essential properties of matter as matter, nor explicable by the essence
of matter in general ? ,

" Let us advance one step farther, and we shall in the animal world meet with yet
greater perfections and properties, noways explicable by the essence of matter in general.
If the omnipotent Creator had not superadded to the earth, which produced the irrational
animals, qualities far surpassing those of the dull dead earth, out of which they were
made, life, sense, and spontaneous motion, nobler qualities than were before in it, it had
still remained rude senseless matter ; and if to the individuals of each species he had not
superadded a power of proj)a^ation, the species had perished with those individuals : but
by these essences or properties of each species, superadded to the matter which they were
made of, the essence or properties of matter in general were not destroyed or changed,
any more than any thing that was in the individuals before, was destroyed or changed by
the power of generation, superadded to them by tlie first benediction of the Almighty.

" In all such cases, the superinducement of greater pefrections and nobler qualities
destroys nothing of the essence or perfections that were there before ; unless there can
be showed a manifest repugnancy between them : but all tlie proof oflf'ered for that,
is only, that we cannot conceive how matter, without such superadded perfections,
can produce such effects ; which is, in truth, no more than to say, matter in general, or
every part of matter, as matter, has them not ; but is no reason to prove, that God, if he
pleases, cannot superadd them to some parts of matter, unless it can be proved to be a
contradiction, that God should give to some parts of matter, qualities and perfections, which
matter in general has not ; though we cannot conceive how matter is invested witii them,
or how it operates by virtue of those new endowments ; nor is it to be wondered that we
cannot, whilst we limit all its operations to those qualities it had before, and would explain
them by the known properties of matter in general, without any such induced perfections.
For, if this be a right rule of reasoning, to deny a thing to be, because we cannot conceive
the manner how it comes to be ; I shall desire them who use it, to stick to this rule, and
' see what work it will make both in divinity as well as philosophy : and whether they can
advance any thing more in favour of scepticism.

" For to keep within the present subject of the power.of thinking and self-motion,
bestowed by omnipotent Power in some parts of matter : the objection to this is, I cannot

460 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

substance, with a faculty of" thinking ; since we know not
wherein thinking consists, nor to what sort of substances the
Almighty has been pleased to give that power, which cannot be

conceive how matter should think, ' Wliat is the consequence ? ergo, God cannot give it
a power to think. Let this stand for a good reason, and then proceed in other cases by
the same. You cannot conceive how matter can attract matter at any distance, much less
at the distance of 1,000,000 of miles ; ergo, God cannot give it such a power: you can-
not conceive how matter should feel, or move itself, or affect an immaterial being, or be
moved by it ; ergo, God cannot give it such powers : which is, in effect, to deny gravity,
and the revolution of the planets about the sun ; to make brutes mere machines, without
sense or spontaneous motion ; and to allow man neither sense nor voluntary motion.

" Let us apply this rule one degree farther. You cannot conceive how an extended
solid substance should think ; therefore, God cannot make it think : can you conceive how
your own soul, or any substance, thinks ? Y'ou find indeed that you do think, and so do
I ; but I want to be told how the action of tliinking is performed : this, I confess, is
beyond my conception ; and I would be glad any one, who conceives it, would explain
it to me. God, 1 find, has given me this faculty ; and since I caimot but be convinced of
his power in this instance, whicli though I every moment experiment in myself, yet I can-
not conceive the manner of ; what would it be less than an insolent absurdity, to deny his
power in other like cases, only for this reason, because I cannot conceive the manner how?
"To explain this matter a little farther: God has created a substance ; let it be, for
example, a solid extended substance. Is God bound to give it, besides being, a power
of action? that, I think, nobody will say: he, therefore, may leave it in a state of inactivity,
and it will be nevertheless a substance ; for action is not necessary to the being of any
substance that God does create. God has likewise created and made to exist, de novo, an
immaterial substance, which will not lose its being of a substance, though God should bestow
on it nothing more but this bare being, without giving it any activity at all. Here are
now two distinct substances, the one material, the other immaterial, both in a state
of perfect inactivity. Now I ask, what power God can give to one of these substances (sup-
posing them to retain the same distinct natures that they had as substances in their state
of inactivity ), which he cannot give to the other? Li that state, it is plain, neither of
them thinks ; for thinking being an action, it cannot be denied, that God can put an end
to an actioTi of any created substance, without annihilating of the substance whereof it is
an action ; and if it be so, he can also create or give existence to such a substance, with-
out giving that substance any action at all. By the same reason it is plain, that neither
of them can move itself: now I would ask, why Omnipotency cannot give to either of
these substances, which are equally in a state of perfect inactivity, the same power that it
can give to tlie other ? Let it be, for example, that of spontaneous or self-motion, which
is a power that it is supposed God can give to an unsolid substance, but denied that ho
can give to solid substance.

" If it be asked, why they limit the omnipotency of God, in reference to the one ratiier
than the other of these substances ? all that can be said to it is, that they cannot conceive,
how the solid substance should ever be able to move itself. And as little, say I, are they
able to conceive, how a created unsolid substance should move itself. But there may be
sometliing in an immaterial substance, that you do not know, I grant it; and in a material
one too : for example, gravitation of matter towards matter, and in the several proportions
observable, inevitably shows, that there is something in matter that we do not understand,
unless we can conceive self-motion in matter ; or an inexplicable and inconceivable
attraction in matter, at immense, almost imcomprehensible, distances : it must, therefore,
be confessed, that there is something in solid, as well as unsolid, substances, that we do
not understand. But this we know, that they may each of them have their distinct beings,
without any activity superadded to them, unless you will deny, that God can take from
any being its power of acting, which it is probable will be thought too presumptuous for
any one to do ; and, I say, it is as hard to conceive self-motion in a created immaterial, as
in a material, being, consider it how you will : and, therefore, this is no reason to deny
Omnipotency to be able to give a power of self-motion to a material substance, if be
pleases, as well as to an immaterial ; since neither of them can have it from themselves,
nor can we conceive bow it can be in either of them .

C/t. 3. EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 4GI

in any created being, but merely ])y the good pleasure and
bounty of the Creator. For I see no contradiction in it, that
the first eternal thinking Being, should, if he pleased, give to

" The same is visible in the other ()i)eratioii of thinking : botli tliese substances may be
made and exist without tliought ; neither of them has, or can liavo, the power of thinking
from itself; God may give it to either of them, according to tlie good pleasure of his
omnipotency ; and in whichever of them it is, it is equally beyond our capacity to con-
ceive, how either of tliese substances thinks. But for that reason, to deny that God, who
had j)ower enough to give them both a being out of nothing, can, by the same omni-
potency, give them wliat other powers and perfections he pleases, has no better founda-
tion than to deny his power of creation, because we cannot conceive how it is performed :
and there, at last, tliis way of reasoning must terminate.

" Tliat Omnipotency cannot make a substance to be solid and not solid at tlie same
time, I think with due reverence we may say ; but that a solid substance may not have
qualities, perfections, and powers, which have no natural or visibly necessary connexion
witl) solidity and extension, is too much for us (who are but of yesterday, and know
nothing) to be positive in. If God cannot join things together by connexions incon-
ceivable to us, we must deny even the consistency and being of matter itself ; since every
particle of it having some bulk, lias its parts connected by ways inconceivable to us. So
that all tl'.o difficulties that are raised against the thinking of matter, from our ignorance,
or narrow conceptions, stand not at all in the way of the power of God, if lie pleases to
ordain it so ; nor prove any thing against his having actually endued some parcels of
matter, so disposed as he thinks fit, with a faculty of thinking, till it can be sliown, that it
contains a contradiction to suppose it.

" Though to me sensation be comprehended under thinking in general, yet, in the
foregoing discourse, I have spoke of sense in brutes, as distinct from thinking ; because
your lordshi]), as I remember, speaks of sense in brutes. But here I take liberty to ob-
serve, that if your lordship allows brutes to have sensation, it will follow, eitlier that God
can and doth give to some parcels of matter a power of perception and thinking ; or that
all animals have immaterial, and consequently, according to your lordship, immortal souls,
as well as men ; and to say that fleas and mites, &;c., have immortal souls as well as men,
will possibly be looked on as going a great way to serve an hypothesis.

" I have been pretty large in making this matter plain, that tliey who are so forward to
bestow hard censures or names on the opinions of those who differ from them, may con-
sider whetlier sometimes they are not more due to their own ; and that they may be per-
suaded a little to temper that heat, which, supposing the truth in their current opinions,
gives them (as they think) a right to lay what imputations they please on those who
would fully examine the grounds they stand upon. For talking with a suppo<<ition and
insinuations, that truth and knowledge, nay, and religion too, stand and fall with their
systems, is at best but an imperious way of begging the question, and assuming to them-
selves, under the ])retence of zeal for the cause of God, a title to infallibility. It is very
becoming that men's zeal for truth should go as far as their proofs, but not go for proofs
themselves. He tlial attacks received opinions with any thing but fair arguments, may, I
own, be justly suspected not to mean well, nor to be led by the love of truth ; but the
same may be said of him too, who so defends them. An error is not the better for being
common, nor trutli the worse fur having lain neglected ; and if it were put to the vote any
where in the world, I doubt, as things are managed, whetlier truth would have the ma-
jority, at least whilst the authority of men, and not the examination of things, must be its
measure. The imputation of scepticism, and those broad insinuations to render what I
have writ suspected, so frequent, as if that were tlie great business of all this pains you
have been at about me, has made me say thus much, my lord, rather as my sense of the
way to establish truth in its full force and beauty, than that I think the world will need
to have any thing said to it, to make it distinguish between your lordship's and my design
in writing, which, therefore, I securely leave to the judgment of the reader, and return to
the argument in hand.

" What I have above said, I take to be a full answer to all that your lordship would
infer from my idea of matter, of liberty, of identity, and from the power of abstracting.
You ask, (a) ' How can my idea of liberty agree with the idea that bodies can operate

(a) First answer.

462 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

certain systems of created senseless matter, put together as he
thinks fit, some degrees of sense, perception, and thought :
though, as I think, I have proved, lib. 4, c. 10, §. 14, it is no less

only by motion and inijiulse ?' Ans. By the omnipotency of God, who can make all things
agree, that involve not a contradiction. It is true, 1 say, (a) That bodies ojierale by im-
pulse, and nothing else. And so 1 thought when I writ it, and can yet conceive no other
way of their operation. But I am since convinced by the judicious ]\lr. Newton's in-
comparable book, that it is too bold a presumption to limit God's power in this point by
my narrow concejjtions. The gr;ivitatiou of matter towards matter, by ways uncon-
ceivable to me, is not only a demonstration that God can, if he pleases, put into bodies
powers, and ways of ojieration, above what can be derived from our idea of body, or can
be explained by what we know of matter ; but also an uni^uestionable, and every where
visible, instance, that he has done so. And, therefore, in the next edition of my book, I
will take care to have that passage rectified.

"As to self-consciousness, your lordship asks, (6) ' What is there like self-conscious-
ness in matter?' Nothing at all in matter, as matter. But that God cannot bestow on
some parcels of matter a power of thinking, and with it self-consciousness, will never
be proved by asking, (c) how is it possible to apprehend that mere body should perceive
that it doth perceive ? The weakness of our apprehension, I grant in the case : I confess
as much as you please, that we cannot conceive how a solid, no, nor how an unsolid,
created substance thinks ; but this weakness of our apprehensions reaches not the power
of God, whose weakness is stronger than any thing in men.

" Your argument from abstraction, we have in this question, (rf) ' If it may be in the
power of matter to think, how comes it to be so impossible for such organized bodies as
tlie brutes have, to enlarge their ideas by abstraction ?' Ans. This seems to suppose, that
I ijlace thinking within the natural power of matter. If that be your meaning, my lord,
I never say, nor suppose, that all matter has naturally in it a faculty of thinking, but the
direct contrary. But if you mean tliat certain parcels of matter, ordered by the Divine
Power, as seems fit to him, may be made capable of receiving from his omnipotency the
faculty of thinking ; that, indeed, I say ; and tliat being granted, the answer to your
question is eaey ; since, if omnipotency can give thought to any solid substance, it is not
hard to conceive, that God may give that faculty in a higher or lower degree, as it pleases
hira, who knows what disposition of the subject is suited to such a particular way or
degree of thinking.

"Another argument to prove, that God cannot endue anj' parcel of matter with the
faculty of thinking, is taken from those words of mine, (e) where I show, by what con-
nexion of ideas we may come to know, that God is an immaterial substance. They are
these, ' The idea of an eternal actual knowing being, with the idea of immateriality, by
the intervention of the idea of matter, and of its actual division, divisibility, and want of
perception,' &c. From whence your lordship thus argues : (/) ' Here the want of per-
ception is owned to be so essential to matter, that God is therefore concluded to be imma-
terial.' Ans. Perception and knowledge in that one eternal Being, where it has its
source, it is visible must be essentially inseparable from it: therefore the actual want of
perception in so great a part of the particular parcels of matter, is a demonstration, that
the first being, from whom perception and knowledge are inseparable, is not matter: how
far this makes the want of perfection an essential property of matter, I will not dispute ;
it suffices that it shows, that perception is not an essential property of matter; and there-
fore matter cannot be that eternal original being to which perception and knowledge are
essential. Matter, I say, naturally is without perception: ergo, says your lordship,
'want of perception is an essential property of matter, and God does net change the
essential pro])erties of things, their nature remaining.' From whence you infer, that God
cannot bestow on any parcel of matter (the nature of matter remaining) a faculty of
tliinking. If the rules of logic, since my days, be not changed, I may safely deny this
consequence. For an argument that runs thus, God does not ; ergo, he cannot, I was
taught, when I firsf came to the university, would not hold. For I, never said God did;

(a) Essay, b. 2, c. 8, f. 11. (b) First answer. (c) Ibid.

(rf) Ibid. (e) First letter. ('/) First ausv/er.

Ch.'d. I::XT£NT OF HUMA-N KNOWLEDGE. 403

than a contradiction to suppose matter (vvhicli is evidently in
its own nature void of sense and thought) should be that
eternal first-thinking Being. What certainty of knowledge can

but, (a) ' Tliat I see no coiilradictioii in it, tliat lie slioiilii, \i lie jjleiised, <iive to some
systems of senseless matter, a faculty of tliiukiii^ ;' and 1 know notjody ((ofore Des Cartes,
that ever ijrelended to show that there was any contradiction in it. So that at worst, my
iiot beiii" able to see in matter any such incapacity as makes it impossible for Omnipotency
to bestow on it a faculty of thinking, makes me opposite only to the Cartesians. For as
far as 1 have seen or heard, the fathers of the Cliristiau church never pretended to demon-
strate, that matter was incapitble to receive a power of sensation, perception, and thinking,
from the hand of the omnipotent Creator. Let us therefore, if you please, suppose the
form of your argumentation right, and that your lordship means, ' God cannot :' and then,
if your argument be good, it proves, ' That God could not give to Balaam's ass a power to
speak to his master, as he did, for the v/ant of rational discourse being natural to that spe-
cies ;' it is but for your lordship to callitan essential property, and then God cannot change
the essential properties of things, their nature remaining : whereby it is proved, ' That
God cannot, with all his omnipotency, give to an ass a power to speak, as Ualaam's did.'

" You say, (//) my lord, ' ^'ou do not set bounds to God's omnipotency. " I'or he may,
if he please, change a body into an immaterial substance,' i. e. take away from a substance
the solidity which it had before, and which made it matter, and then give it a faculty of
thinking, which it had not before, and which makes it a spirit, the same substance remaining.
For if the same substance remains not, body is not changed into an immaterial substance.
But the solid substance, and all belonging to it, is annihilated, and an immaterial substance
created, wliich is not a change of one thing into another, but the destroying of one, and
making another de novo. In this change, therefore, of a body or material substance into
an immaterial, let us observe these distinct considerations.

"First, you say, ' God may, if he pleases, take away from a solid substance, solidity,
■which is that which makes it a material substance or body ; and may make it an innua-
terial substance, i. c. a substance without solidity. But this privation of one cjuality gives
it not another ; the bare taking away a lower or less noble quality, does not give it an
higher or nobler ; that must be the gift of God. For the bare privation of one, and a
meaner quality, cannot be the position of a higher and better : unless any one v\ill say,
that cogitation, or the power of thinking, results from the nature of substance itself ;
■which if it do, then wherever there is substance, there must be cogitation, or a power of
thinking.' Here, then, upon your lordship's own principle?, is an immaterial substance
without the faculty of thinking.

" In the next place, you will not deny, but God may give to this substance, thus de-
prived of solidity, a facidty of thinking ; for you suppose it made capable of that by
being made immatt'rial ; whereby you allow, that the same numerical substance may be
sometimes wholly incogitative, or without a power of thinking, and at other times per-
fectly cogitative, or indued with a power of thinking.

" Further, you will not deny, but God can give it solidity, and make it materia! again.
For 1 conclude it will not be denied, that God can make it again what it ■was before.
Now I crave leave to ask your lordship, why God having given to this substance the fa-
culty of thinking, after solidity was taken from it, cannot restore to it solidity again,
•without taking away the faculty of thinking ? When you have resolved this, my lord, you
■will have proved it impossible for (jod's omnipotence to give to a solid substance a faculty
of thinking; but till then, not having proved it impossible, and yet denying that God can
do it, is to deny that he can do, what is in itself possib'.e ; iwhich, as I humbly conceive,
is visibly to set bounds to God's omnipotency, though you say here, (c) ' you do not set
bt'.unds to God's omnipotency.'

" If I should imitate your lordship's way of writing, I should not omit to bring in Epi-
curus here, and take notice, that this was liis way, Deum verbia ponere, re tollere;
and then add, that I am certain you do not think he promoted the great ends of religion
and morality For it is with such candid and kind insiiniatiojis as these, that you bring in
both (d) Hobbcs and (e) Si)inosa into your discourse here about God's being able, if he
please, to give to some parcels of matter, ordered as he thinks /it, a faculty of thinking;
( a) B. 4, c. 3, $. 6. (6) First answer. (c) Ibid. (d) Ibid. (e) Ibid.

4G4 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book A.

any one have tliat some perceptions, such as, v. ^. pleasure and
pain, should not be in some bodies themselves, after a cettain
manner modified and moved, as well as that they should be in

neither of tliose authors having, as appears by any passage you bring out of them, said
any thing to this question ; nor having, as it seems, any other business here, but by their
names, skilfully to give that character to my book, with which you would recommend it
to the world.

" I pretend not to enquire what measure of zeal, nor for what, guides your lordship's
pen in such a way of writing, as yours has all along been with me : only I cannot but
consider, what reputation it would give to the writings of tlie fathers of the church, if
they should think truth required, or religion allowed them to imitate, such patterns. But
God be thanked, there be those amongst them, who do not admire such ways of managing
the cause of truth or religion ; they being sensible that if every one, who believes, or can
pretend he hath truth on his side, is thereby authorised, without proof, to insinuate
whatever may serve to prejudice men's minds against the other side, there will be a
great ravage made on charity and practice, without any gain to truth and knowledge :
and that the liberties frequently taken by disputants to do so, may have been the cause
that the world in all ages has received so much harm, and so little advantage, from
controversies in religion.

" These are the arguments which your lordship has brought to confute one sayiug in my
book, by other passages in it ; which therefore being all but argiimenta ad hominem, if
they did prove what they do not, are of no other use, than to gain a victory over me : a
thing methinks so much beneath your lordship, that it does not deserve one of your
pages. The question is, whether God can, if he pleases, bestow on any parcel of matter,
ordered as he thinks lit, a faculty of perception and thinking. You say, (a) ' you look
upon a mistake herein to be of dangerous consequence as to the great ends of religion
and morality. ' If tliis be so, my lord, I think one may well wonder, why your lordship
has brought no arguments to establish the trutli itself, which you look on to be of such
dangerous consequence to be mistaken in : but have spent so many pages only in a
personal matter, in endeavouring to show, that I had inconsistencies in my book ; which
if any such thing had been shown, the question would be still as far from being
decided, and the danger of mistaking about it as little prevented, as if nothing of all
this had been said. If therefore your lordsliip's care of the great ends of religion and
morality, have made you think it necessary to clear tliis question, the world has reason to
conclude there is little to be said against that proposition which is to be found in my
book, concerning the possibility, that some parcels of matter might be so ordered by
Omnipotence, as to be endued with a faculty of thinking, if God so pleased ; since your
lordship's concern for the promoting the great ends of religion and morality, has not
enabled you to produce one argument against a proposition that you think of so dangerous
consequence to them.

" And here I crave leave to observe, that though in your title page you promise to
prove, that my notion of ideas is inconsistent with itself (which if it were, it could
hardly be proved to be inconsistent with any thing else), and with the articles of the
Christian faith ; yet your attempts all along ha%e been to prove me, in some passages of
my book, inconsistent with myself, without having shown any proposition in my book
inconsistent with any article of the Christian faith.

" 1 think your lordship has indeed made use of one argument of your own : but it is
such an one, that I confess I do not see how it is apt much to promote religion,
especially the Christian religion, founded on revelation. I shall set down your lordship's
words, that they may be considered : you say, (b) ' that you are of opinion, that the great
ends of religion and morality are best secured by the proofs of the immortality of the
soul, from its nature and properties ; and which you think prove it immaterial.' \ our
lordship does not question whether God can give immortality to a material substance ;
but you say it takes off very much from the evidence of iramortaliiy, if it depend wholly
upon God's giving that, which of its own nature it is not capable of, &c. So likewise
you say, (c) ' If a man cannot be certain, but that matter may think (as I affirm), then
what becomes of the soul's immateriality (and consequently immortality) from its

(<() first answer. (/>) Ibid. (c) Second answer.

Ch. 3. EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 465

an immaterial substance, upon the motion of the parts of body?
Body, as lar as we can conceive, being able only to strike and
affect body ; and motion, according to the utmost reach of our

uperatiuns ? But for all this, say I, liis assurance of faith remaius on its own basis. Now
you apjieal to any man of sense, whether the fitiding the uncertainty of his own principles,
which ho went upon, in point of reason, doth not weaken the credibility of these
fundamental articles, when they are considered purely as matters of faith? For before,
there was a natural credibility in them on account of reason ; but by going on wrong
grounds of certainty, all that is lost ; and instead of being certain, he is more doubtful
than ever. And if the evidence of faith fall so much short of that of reason, it must needs
liave less effect upon men's minds, when the subserviency of reason is taken away ; as
it must be when the grounds of certainty by reason are vanished. Is it at all probable,
that he who finds his reason deceive him in such fundamental points, shall have his failli
stand firm and unmoveable on the account of revelation ? For in matters of revelation,
there must be some antecedent principles supposed, before we can believe any thing on
the account of it.

" More to the same purpose we have some pages farther, where, from some of my
words, your lordship says, (o) ' You caimot but observe, tliat we have no certainty upon
my grounds, that self-consciousness depends upon an individual iniraateria! substance, and
consequently that a material substance may, according to my principles, have self-con-
sciousness in it ; at least, that I am not certain of the contrary.' Whereupon your lord-
ship bids rae consider, whether this doth not a little affect the whole article of the
resurrection ? What does all this tend to, but to make the v/orld believe, that 1 have
lessened the credibility of the immortality of the soul, and the resurrection, by saying,
that though it be most highly proba!)le that the soul is immaterial, yet upon my principles
it cannot be demonstrated; because it is not impossible to God's omnipotencjj..if he
pleases, to bestow upon some parcels of matter, disposed as he sees fit, a faculty of
thinking ?

" This your accusation of my lessening the credibility of these articles of faith, is
founded on this, that the article of the immortality of the soul abates of its credibility,
if it be allowed, that its immateriality (which is the supposed proof from reason and
philosophy of its immortality) cannot be demonstrated from natural reason: which argu-
ment of your lordship's bottoms, as 1 humbly conceive, on this, that divine revelation
abates of its credibility in all those articles it proposes, proportionably as human reason
fails to support the testimony of God. And all that your lordship in those passages has
said, when examined, will, I sujipose, be found to import thus much, viz., does God
propose any thing to mankind to be believed? It is very fit and credible to be believed,
if reason can demonstrate it to be true. But if human reason comes short in the case,
:ind cannot make it out, its credibility is thereby lessened ; which is, in effect, to say,
that the veracity of God is not a firm and sure foundation of faith to rely upon, without
the concurrent testimony of reason, i.e. with reverence be it spoken, God is not to be
believed on his own word, unless what he reveals be in itself credible, and might be
believed without him.

" If this be a way to promote religion, the Christian religion, in all its articles, I am
not sorry that it is not a way to be found in any of my writings; for I imagine any thing
like this would (and I should think deserved to) have other titles than bare scepticism
bestowed upon it, and would have raised no small outcry against any one, who is not to
be supposed to be in the right in all that he says, and so may securely say what he
pleases. Such as I, the prophanum vulons, who take too much upon us, it wc should
examine, have noihing to do but to hearken and believe, though what he said should
subvert the very foundations of the Christian faith.

" What I have above observed, is so visibly contained in your lordship's argument,
that when I met witli it in your answer to my first letter, it seemed so strange for a
man of your lordship's character, and in a dispute in defence of the doctrine of the
Trinity, that I could hardly persuade myself, but it was a slip of your pen: but when I
found it in your second letter (l>) made use of again, and seriously enlarged as an argu-
ment of weight to be insisted upon, I was convinced that it was a principle that you

(<i) Second answer. (6) Ibid.

466 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

ideas, being able to produce nothing but motion ; so that when
we allow it to produce pleasure or pain, or the idea of a colour,
or sound, we are ikin to quit our reason, go beyond our ideas.

Lcanily embraced, how little favourable soever it was to the articles of the Christian
reliy^ioii, and jiariicularly those whicli you undertook to defend.

" I desire my reader to peruse the passages as tliey stand in your letters themselves,
and see whether what you say in them does not amount to this, that a revelation from
God is'more or less credible, according as it has a stronger or weaker confirmation from
human reason. For,

" 1, Your lordship says, (a) ' You do not question whether God can give immortality to
a material substance ; but you say it takes off very much from the evidence of immortality,
if it depends wliolly upon God's giving that which of its own nature it is not capable of.'

" To wliici) 1 reply, any one's not being able to demonstrate the soul to be immaterial,
takes off not very much, nor at all, from the evidence of its immortality, if God has
revealed, that it shall be immortal ; because the veracily of God is a demonstration of
the truth of what he has revealed, and the want of another demonstration of a propo-
sition, that is demonstratively true, takes not off from the evidence of it. For where
there is a clear demonstration, there is as much evidence as any truth can have, that is
not self-evident. God has revealed, that the souls of men should live for ever. 'But,'
says your lordship, 'from this evidence, it takes off very much, if it depends wholly upon
God's giving that, wliich of its own nature it is not capable of,' i. e. the revelation and
testimony of God loses much of its evideuce, if this de[)ends wholly upon the good
pleasure of God, and cannot be demonstratively made out by natural reason, that the
soul is immaterial, and consequently in its own nature immortal. For that is all that
here is or can be meant by these words, ' which of its own nature it is not capable of,'
to make them to the purpose. For the whole of your lordship's discourse here, is to
prove, that the soul cannot be material, because then the evidence of its being immortal
would be very much lessened. Which is to say, that it is not as credible upon divine
revelation, that a material substance should be immortal, as au immaterial ; or, whicb is
all one, that God is not ecjually to be believed, when he declares, that a material sub-
stance shall be immortal, as wlien he declares, that an immaterial shall be so, because tlie
immortality of a material substance cannot be demonstrated from natural reason.

" Let us try this rule of your lordship's a little farther: God hath revealed, that the
bodies men shall have after the resurrection, as well as their souls, shall live to eternity.
Does your lordship believe the eternal life of the one of these, more than of the other,
because you tliink you can prove it of one of tliom by natural reason, and of the other
not? Or can any one, who admits of divine revektion in tlie case, doubt of one of them
more than the other? Or think this pro])osition less credible, that the bodies of men, after
the resurrection, shall live for ever? than this, that the souls of men shall, after the resur-
rection, live for ever ? For that he must do, if he tliinks either of them is less credible
than the other. If this be so, reason is to be consulted, how far God is to be believed,
and the credit of divine testimony must receive its force from the evidence of reason ;
which is evidently to take away the credibility of divine revelation, in all supernatural
truths, wherein the evidence of reason fails. And how much such a principle as this tends
to the support of the doctrine of the Trinity, or the promoting the Christian religion, I shall
leave it to your lordship to consider.

" 1 am not so well read in Hobbes or Spinosa, as to be able to say, what were
their opinions in this matter. But possibly there be those, who will think your lordship's
authority of more use to t'iem in the case, than those justly decried names : and be glad
to find your lordship a patron of the oracles of reason, so little to thr advantage of the
oracles of divine revelation. This at least, I think, may be subjoined to the words at
the bottom of the next page, {b) That those who have gone about to lessen the credibility
of the articles of faith, which evidently they do, who say they are less credible, because
they cannot be made out demonstratively by natural reason, have not been thought to
secure several of the articles of the Christian faith, especially those of the trinity, incar-
nation, and resurrection of the body, which are those upon tlie accouiit of which
1 am brought by your lordship into this dispute.

(a) First answer. (/>) Ibid.

_ I

Ch.3. KXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 4G7

and attribute it wholly to the good pleasure of our Maker.
For since we must allow he has annexed effects to motion,
which we can no way conceive motion able to produce, what

" I shall not trouble llie reader with your lordship's endeavours, in the following
words, to prove, ' That if the soul be not an immaterial substance, it can be nothing but
life ;' your very first words visibly confuting all that you allege to that purpose. They
are, (a) ' If tiie soul be a material substance, it is really nothing but life ;' which is to
say, that if the soul be really a substance, it is not really a substance, but really nothing
else but an affectioii of a substance ; for the life, whether of a material or imniaterial
substance, is not the substance itself, but an all'ection of it.

" 2, You SHy, {b) ' Althoufih we think the separate state of ti.e soul after (icath,
is sufficiently revealed in the scripture ; yet it creates a great difliculty in understanding
it, if the soul be notliing but life, or a njaterial substance, which must be dissolved when
life is ended. For if the soul be a material substance, it must be made up, as others are,
of the cohesion of solid and separate parts, how minute and invisible soever they be.
And what is it which sliould keep them together, when life is gone ? So tliat it is no easy
matter to give an account, how the soul should be capable of immortality, unless it be an
immaterial substance; and then we know the solution and texture of bodies cannot
reach the soul, being of a different nature.'

" Let it be as hard a matter as it will to give an account wh \t it is tliat should keep
the parts of a material soul together, after it is separated from the body ; yet it will be
always as easy to give an account of it, as to give an account what it is that sliall keep
together a material and iramateiial substance. And yet the diliiculty that there is to give an
account of that, I hope does not, with your lordship, weaken the credibility of the
inseparable union of soul and body to eternity : and 1 persuade myself, that the men of
sense, to whom your lordship a])peals in the case, do not find tlieir belief of this
fundamental j)oint much weakened by that difliculty. I thouglit heretofore (and by your
lordship's permission, would think so still), that the union of tlie parts of matter, one with
anotlier, is as much in the hands of God, as the union of a material and immaterial
substance ; and that it does not take oiF very much, or at all, from the evidence of
immortality, which depends on that union, that it is no easy matter to give an account
what it is that should keep them together: though its depending wlioliy upon the gift
and good pleasure of God, where the manner creates great difliculty in the understandincr,
and our reason cannot discover in the nature of things how it is, be that which, your
lordsliip so positively says, lessens the credibility of the fundamental articles of the resur-
rection and immortality.

" But, my lord, to remove this objection a little, and to show of how small force it is
even with yourself ; give me leave to presume, that your lordship as (irmly believes the
immortality of the body after the resurrection, as any other article of faith : if so, then
it being no easy njatter to give an account, what it is that shnll keep together the parts of
a material soul, to one that believes it is material, can no more weaken the credibility
of its immortality, than the like dilHculty weakens the credibility of the immortality of the
body. For when your lordship shall find it an easy matter to give an account what it is,
besides tlie good i)leasure of God, which shall keep together the parts of our
material bodies to eternity, or even soul and body ; I doubt not but any one, who shall
think the soul material, will also find it as easy to give an account what it is tliat
shall keep those parts of matter also together to eternity.

" Were it not that warmth of controversy is apt to make men so far forget, as to
take up those jjrincipUs themselves (when they will serve their turn) which they have
highly condemned in others, I should wonder to find your lordship to argue, Uiat because
it is a dilBculty to understand what shall keep together the minute parts of a material
soul, when life is gone ; and because it is not an easy matter to give an account how the
soul shall be capable of immortality, unless it be an immaterial substance : therefore it
is not so credible as if it were easy to give an account by natural reason, how it could be.
For to this it is, that all this your discourse tends, as is evident by what is already set
down ; and will be more fully made out by what your lordship says in other places, though
here needs no such proofs, since it would all be nothing against me in any other sense,
(a) First answer, (h) Ibid.

n H 2

4C8 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

reason have we to conclude, that he could not order them as
well to be produced in a subject we cannot conceive capable of
them, as well as in a subject we cannot conceive the motion

I thought your lordship had in other places asserted, and insisted on this truth, that
no part of divine revelation was the less to be believed, because the thing itself created
great difficulty in the understanding, and the manner of it was hard to be explained ; and
It was no easy matter to give an account how it was. This, as I take it, your lordship
condemned in others, as a very unreasonable principle, and such as would subvert all the
articles of the Cliristian religion, that were mere matters of faith, as I think it will : and
IS It possible, that you should make use of it here yourself, against the article of life and
immortality, that Christ hath brought to light through the gospel, and neither was, nor
could be, made out by natural reason without revelation f But you will say, you speak
only of the soul ; and your words are, ' That it is no easy matter to give an account how
the soul should be capable of immortality, unless it be an immaterial substance.' I grant
it ; but crave leave to say, that there is not any one of those difficulties, that are, or can
be, raised about the manner how a material soul can be immortal, which do not as well
reach the immortality of the body.

" But, if it were not so, I am sure this principle of your lordship's would reacli other
articles of faith, wherein our natural reason finds it not so easy to give an account how
those mysteries are . and which therefore, according to your principles, must be less
credible than other articles, that create less difficulty to the understanding. For your
lordship says, (a) ' That you appeal to any man of sense, whether to a man who thought
by his jiriuciples, he could from natural grounds demonstrate the immortality of the soul,
the finding the uncertainty of those principles he went upon in point of reason,' i. e. the
finding he could not certainly prove it by natural reason, doth not weaken the credibility
of that fundamental article, when it is considered purely as a matter of faith? Which in
effect, I humbly conceive, amounts to this, that a proposition divinely revealed, that
cannot be proved by natural reason, is less credible than one that can ; which seems to
me to come very little short of this, with due reverence be it spoken, that God is less to
be believed when he affirms a proposition that cannot be proved by natural reason, than
when he proposes what can be proved by it. The direct contrary to which is my opinion,
though you endeavour to make it good by these following words, (6) ' If the evidence of
faith falls too much short of tiiat ai reason, it must needs have less effect upon men's
minds, when the subserviency of reason is taken away ; as it must be when the grounds
of certainty by reason are vanislied. Is it at all probable, that he who finds bis reason
deceive him in such fundamental points, should have Ids faith stand firm and unmoveable
on the account of revelation?' Than which I think there are hardly plainer words to be
found out to declare, that the credibility of God's testimony depends on tlie natural
evidence or probability of the things we receive from revelation ; and rises and foils with
it : and that the truths of God, or the articles of mere faith, lose so much of their credi-
bility, as they want proof from reason : which, if true, revelation may come to have no
credibility at all. For if, in this present case, the credibility of this proposition, ' the souls
of men shall live for ever,' revealed in the Scripture, be lessened by confessing it cannot be
demonstratively proved from reason; though it be asserted to be most highly probable;
must not, by the same rule, its credibility dwindle away to nothing, if natural reason
should not be able to make it out to be so much as probable ; or should place the proba-
bility from natural principles on the other side ? For if mere want of demonstration
lessens the credibility of any proposition divinely revealed, must not want of probability,
or contrary probability from natural reason, quite take away its credibility? Here at last
it must end, if in any one case the veracity of God, and the credibility of the truths we
receive from him by revelation, be subjected to the verdicts of human reason, and be
allowed to receive any accession or diminution from other proofs, or want of other proofs
of its certainty or probability.

"If tliis be your lordship's way to promote religion, or defend its articles, I know not
what argument the greatest enemies of it could use more effectual for the subversion of
those you have undertaken to defend; this being to resolve all revelation perfectly and
purely into natural reason, to bound its credibility by that, and leave no room for faith in
other things, than what can be accounted for by natural reason witliout revelation.

(a) Second answer. (o) Ibid.

Ch. 3. EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 469

of matter can any way operate upon ? I say not this, that I
would any way lessen the belief of the soul's immateriality : I
am not here speaking of probability, but knowledge ; and I think

" Your lordship (a) insists luucli upon it, as if I had contradicted what I had said in
my Essay, (6) by saying, ' That upon my principles it cannot be demonstratively proved,
that it is an immaterial substance in us that thinks, however probable it be.' He that will
be at die pains to read that chapter of mine, and consider it, will find, that my business
there was to show, that it was no harder to conceive an immaterial than a material sub-
stance ; and that from the ideas of thought, and a power of moving of matter, which we
experienced in ourselves (ideas originally not belonging to matter as matter), there was no
more difficulty to conclude there was an immaterial substance in us, than that we had ma-
terial parts. These ideas of thinking, and power of moving of matter, I, in another place,
showed, did demonstratively lead us to the certain knowledge of the existence of an im-
material thinking being, in whom we have the idea of spirit in the strictest sense ; in
which sense I also applied it to the soul, in that 23rd ch. of my Essay ; the easily con-
ceivable possibility, nay, great probability, that the thinking substance in us is immaterial,
giving me sufficient ground for it. In which sense I shall think I may safely attribute it
to the tliinking substance in us, till your lordship shall have better proved from my words,
that it is impossible it should be inmiaterial. For I only say, that it is possible, i. e. in-
volves no contradiction, that God, the omnipotent immaterial Spirit, should, if he pleases,
give to some parcels uf matter, disposed as he thinks fit, a power of thinking and moving:
which parcels of matter so endued with a power of thinking and motion, might properly
be called spirits, in contradistinction to unthinking matter. In all which, 1 presume, there
is no manner of contradiction.

" I justified my use of the word spirit, in that sense, from the authorities of Cicero and
Virgil, ajjplying the Latin word spiritus, from whence spirit is derived, to the soul as a
thinking thing, without excluding materiality out of it. To which your lordship replies,
(c) ' That Cicero, in his Tusculun Questions, supposes the soul not to be a finer sort of
body, but of a different nature from the body — that he calls the body, the prison of the
soul — and says, That a wise man's business is to draw oft" his soul from his body.' And
then your lordship concludes, as is usual, with a question, ' Is it possible now to think so
great a man looked on the soul but as a modification of the body, which must be at an end
with life ?' Answer, No ; it is impossible that a man of so good sense as Tally, when
he uses the word corpus, or body, for the gross and visible parts of a man, which he ac-
knowledges to be mortal, should look on the soul to be a modification of that body ; in a
discourse wherein he was .endeavouring to persuade another, that it was immortal. It is
to be acknowledged, that truly great men, such as he was, are not wont so manifestly to
contradict themselves. He had therefore no thought concerning the modification of the
body of a man in the case. He was not such a trifler as to examine, whether the modifica-
tion of the body of a man was immortal, when that body itself was mortal. And there-
fore that which he reports as Dicaiarchus's opinion, he dismisses in the beginning without
any more ado, c. 11. But Cicero's was a direct, plain, and sensible enquiry, viz.. What
the soul was ? to see whether from thence he could discover its immortality. But in all
that discourse in his first book of Tusculan Questions, where he lays out so much of his
reading and reason, there is not one syllable showing the least tho'.;ght that the soul was
an immaterial substance ; but many things directly to the contrary.

" Indeed (1) he shuts out the body, taken in the sense he uses (li) corpus all along,
for the sensible organical parts of a man ; and is positive that is not the soul : and body
in this sense, taken for the human body, he calls the prison of the soul : and says a wise
man, instancing in Socrates and Cato, is glad of a fair opportunity to get out of if. But
he no where says any such thing of matter ; he calls nut instter in geneial the prison of
the soul, nor talks a word of being separate from it.

" 2, He concludes, that the soul is not, like other things here below, made up of a
composition of the elements, c. 27.

" He excludes the two gross elements, earth and water, from being tlie soul, c. 26.

" So far he is clear and positive : but beyond this, he is uncertain ; beyond this, he could
not get. For, in some places, he speaks doubtfully, whether the soul be not air or fire
(a) First asiswcr. ('») B. 2, c. 23. (c) First answer, (d) C I'J, ^^2, 30, 31,. &c.

H U 3

470 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

aot only, that it becomes the modesty of philosophy not to
pronounce magisterially, where we want that evidence that can
produce knowledge ; but also, that it is of use to us, to discern

Anima sit animus, ignisve, nescio, c. 25. And theiefoie he agrees with Pauffitius, tliat, if i
be at all elementary, it is, as he calls it, i7///ammafa an/ma, inflamed air; and for this he
gives several reasons, c 18, 19. And though he thinks it to be of a peculiar nature of
its own, yet be is so far from thinking it immaterial, that he says, c. 19, that tlie admitting
It to be of an aerial or igneous nature, will not be inconsistent with any thing he had
said.

" That which he seems most to incline to, is, that the soul was not at all elementary,
but was of the same substance with the heavens ; whicli Aristotle, to distinguish from the
four elements, and the changeable bodies here below, which he supposed made up of them,
called qiiinta essentia. That this was Tully's opinion, is plain, from these words : Ergo
animus (qui, ut ego dico, divinus) est, ut Euripides audet dieere, Dens: et quidem, si Deus
aut anima aut ignis est, idem est animus hominis. Nam ut ilia iiatura calestis et terra vacat
et humore ; sic utriusque harum rerum humanus animus est expers. Sin autem, est quinta
quadam natura ab Aristotele inducta ; primum hec et deorum est et animorum, Hanc nos
sententiam secuti, his ipsis verbis in. consolatione hac eipressimus, c. 29. And then he goes
on, c. 87, to repeat tliose, his own, words, which your lordsliip has quoted out of him,
wherein he had affirmed, in his treatise De Consolutionp, tlie soul not to have its original from
the earth, or to be mixed or made of any thing earthly ; but had said, SingiUaris est igitur
quedam natura et vis animi, sejuncta ab his usitads notisqne naturis : whereby, he tells us, he
meant nothing but Aristotle's quinta essentia ; which being unmixed, being that of which
the gods and souls consisted, be calls it diiinum ca'leste, and concludes it eternal, it being,
as he speaks, sejuncta ab ojnni mortali concretione. From which it is clear, that in all his
enquiry about the substance of the soul, his thoughts went not beyond the four elements,
or Aristotle's quinta essentia, to look for it. In all which, there is nothing of immate-
riality, but quite the contrary.

" He was willing to believe (as good and wise men have always been), that the soul
was immortal ; but for that it is plain he never thought of its immateriality, but as the
eastern people do, who believe the soul to be immortal, but have nevertheless no thought,
no conception, of its immateriality. It is remarkable what a very considerable and judi-
cious author says (a) in the case. ' No opinion,' says he, * has been so universally
received, as that of tlie immortality of the soul ; but its immateriality is a truth, the
knowledge whereof has not spread so far. And indeed it is extremely difficult to let
into the mind of a Siamite, the idea of a pure spirit. This the missionaries, who have
been longest among them, are positive in. All tlie Pagans of the East do truly believe,
that there remains something of a man after his death, which subsists independently and
separately from his body. But they give extension and figure to that which remains, and
attribute to it all the same members, all the same substances, both solid and liquid, which
our bodies are composed of. They only suppose that the souls are of a matter subtile
enough to escape being seen or handled.' Such were the shades and the manes of the
Greeks and the Romans. And it is by these figures of the souls, answerable to those of
the bodies, that Virgil supposed ^neas knew Palinurus, Dido, and Anchises, in the
other world.

" This gentleman was not a man that travelled into those parts for his pleasure, and to
have the opportunity to tell strange stories, collected by chance, when he returned ; but
one chosen for the purpose (and he seems well chosen for the purpose), to enquire into
the singularities of Siam. And he has so well acquitted himself of the commission
■which his Epistle Dedicatory tells us he had, to inform himself exactly of what was
most remarkable there, that had we but such an account of other countries of the East, as he
has given us of this kingdom, which he was an envoy to, we should be much better
acquainted than we are, with the manners, notions, and religions of tliat part of the
world, inhabited by civilized nations, who want neither good sense nor acuteness of
reason, though not cast into the mould of the logic and pliilosophy of our schools.

" But, to return to Cicero, it is plain, that in his enquiries about the soul, his thoughts
went not at all beyond matter. Thus the expressions that drop from him in several

(a) Loubese du Royaume de Siam, t. 1, c. 19, >J. 4.

C7i. 3. EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 471

how far our knowledge does reach : for the state we are at
present in, not being that of vision, we must, in many things,
content ourselves with faith and probability : and in the present

places of tills book, evidently show. For example, ' That the souls of excellent men and
■women ascended into heaven ; of others, that they remained here on earth,' c. 12. ' That
the soul is hot, and warms the body ; that at its leaving the body, it penetrates and
divides, and breaks through our thick, cloudy, moist air ; that it stops in the region of
fire, and ascends no farther, the equality of warmth and weight making that its proper
place, where it is nourished and sustained witli the same thing wherewith the stars are
nourished and sustained, and that by the convenience of its neighbourhood it shall there
have a clearer view and fuller knowledge of the heavenly bodies,' c. 19. ' That the
soul also, from tliis height, shall have a pleasant and fairer prospect of the globe of the
earth, the disposition of whose parts will then lie before it in one view,' c. 20. ' Ihat it
is hard to determine what conformation, size, and place, the soul has in the body ; that
it is too subtile to be seen; that it is in the human body, as in a house or a vessel, or a
receptacle,' c. 22. All which are expressions that sufficiently evidence, that he who
used them, had not in his mind separated materiality from the idea of the soul.

" It may perhaps be replied, that a great part of this which we find in c. 19, is said
upon the principles of those who would have the soul to be animn injiammata, inflamed
air. I grant it. But it is also to be observed, that in this 19th and the two following
chapters, he does not only not deny, but even admits, that so material a thing as inflamed
air may think.

'• The truth of the case, in short, is this ; Cicero was willing to believe the soul immortal ;
but when he sought in the nature of the soul itself, something to establish this his belief
into a certainty of it, he found himself at a loss. He confessed he knew not what the
soul was ; but the not knowing what it was, he argues, c. 22, was no reason to conclude it
was not. And thereupon he proceeds to the repetition of what he had said in his 6th
book, de Repuh. concerning the soul. The argument, which, borrowed from Plato, he there
makes use of, if it have any force in it, not only proves the soul to be immortal, but more
than, I think, your lordship will allow to be true : for it proves it to be eternal, and with-
out beginning, as well as without end : Nequi imta certe est, et aterna eft, says he.

" Indeed, from the faculties of the soul, he concludes right, ' That it is of divine ori-
ginal.' But as to the substance of the soul, he at the end of this discourse concerning
its faculties, c. 25, as well as at this beginning of it, c. 22, is not ashamed to own his ig-
norance of what it is : Anima sit animus, ignisve, nescio ; nee me piidet, ut istos, fateri nescire
quod nesciam. Jllud si ulla alia de re obscura affirmare possem, sive anima, sive ignis sit ani-
mus, eumjurarem esse Jivinum, c. 25. So that all the certainty he could attain to about
the soul, was, that he was confident there was something divine in it, i. e. there were fa-
culties in the soul that could not result from the nature of matter, but must have their
original from a divine power; but yet those qualities, as divine as they were, he acknow-
ledged might be jjlaced in breath or fire, which your lordship will not deny to be mate-
rial substances. So that all those divine qualities, which he so much and justly extols in
the soul, led him not, as appears, so much as to any the least thought of immateriality.
This is demonstration, that he built them nut upon an exclusion of materiality out of the
soul ; for he avowedly professes he does not know, but breath or fire might be this thinking
thing in us: and in all his considerations about the substance of the soul itself, he stuck
in air or fire, or Aristotle's quinta essentia ; for beyond those, it is evident he went not.

" But with all his proofs out of Plato, to whose authority he defers so much, with all
the arguments his vast reading and great parts could furnish him with for the immortality
of the soul, he was so little satisfied, so far from being certain, so far from any thought
that he had or could prove it, that he over and over again professes his ignorance and
doubt of it. In the beginning, he enumerates the several opinions of the philosophers,
which he had well studied, about it. And then, full of uncertainty, says, Harum, senten-
tiarum qua: verasit. Dens aliquis viderit ; qaec verisimillima magna qutrstio, c. 11. And
towards the latter end, having gone them all over again, and one after another examined
them, he professes himself still at a loss, not knowing on which to pitch, nor what to
determine. Mentis acies, says he, scipsam iutuenf, 7ionnunquain hcbescit, ob eamque camani
conlcmplandi diligenliam amittimus. Itaque <lubitans, circumsp€Ctans,ka.sitans, multa advers^i

H II 4

472 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book A.

question about the immateriality of the soul, if our faculties
cannot arrive at demonstrative certainty, we need not think it
strange. All the great ends of morality and religion, are well

revertens, tanquam in rate inmari immenso, nostra vehitur oratio, c. 30. And to conclude
this argument, when the person he introduces as discoursing witli him, tells him he is re-
solved to keep firm to the belief of immortality, Tully answers, c. 32 : Laudo id qui-
dem, et si nihil animii oportet considere : movemur enim strpe aliquo acute concltiso ; labamus,
mutamusque sentenliam clarioribus etiamin rebus ; in his est enim uliqiut obscuriias-

" So unmoveable is that truth delivered by the spirit of truth, that though the light of
nature gave some obscure glimmering, some uncertain hopes, of a future state ; yet human
reason could attain to no clearness, no certainty, about it, but that it was JESUS CHKIST
alone who had brought life and immortality to light, through the gospel, (a) Though
we are now told, that to own the inability of natural reason, to bring immortality to light,
or, which passes for the same, to own principles upon which the immateriality of the soul
(and as it is urged consequently, its immortality) cannot be demonstratively proved, does
lessen the belief of this article of revelation, which JESUS CHRIST alone has brought
to light, and which consequently the Scripture assures us is established and made certain
only by revelation. This would not perhaps have seemed strange from those who are
justly complained of, for slighting the revelation of the Gospel, and therefore would not
be much regarded, if tliey should contradict so plain a text of Scripture, in favour of their
all-sufficient reason. But what use the promo-ters of scepticism and infidelity, in an age
so much suspected by your lordship, may make of what comes from one of your great au-
thority and learning, may deserve your consideration.

" And thus, n)y lord, I hope I have satisfied you concerning Cicero's opinion about the
soul, in his first book of Tusculan Questions; which, though I easily believe, as your
lordship says, you are no stranger to, yet I humbly conceive you have not shown (and
upon a careful perusal of that treatise again, I think I may boldly say you cannot show)
one word in it, that expresses any thing like a notion in Tully of the soul's immateriality,
or its being an immaterial substance.

" From what you bring out of Virgil, your lordship (6) concludes, ' That he, no more
than Cicero, does me ony kindness in this matter, being both asserters of the soul's im-
mortality.' My lord, were not the question of the soul's immateriality, according to cus-
tom, changed here into that of its immortality, which I am no less an asserter of than
either of them, Cicero and Virgil do me all the kindness I desired of them in this mat-
ter ; and that was, to show that they attributed the word spiritus to the soul of man,
without any thought of its immateriality ; and this the verses you yourself bring out of
Virgil, (c)

' Et cum frigida mors anima seduxerit artus.
Omnibus umbra locis adero, dabis, improbe, poenas ;'

confirm, as well as those I quoted out of his 6th book ; and for this, M. de la Loubre shall
be my witness, in the words above set down out of him ; where he shows, there be
those amongst tlie heathens of our dnys, as well as Virgil and others amongit the ancient
Greeks and Romans, who thought the souls or ghosts of men departed, did not die with
the body, without thinking them to be perfectly immaterial ; the latter being much more
incomprehensible to them than the former. And what Virgil's notion of the soul is, and
that corpus, when put in contradistinction to the soul, signifies nothing but the gross tene-
ment of flesh and bones, is evident from this verse of his ^'^neid 6, where he calls the
souls which yet were visible,

' Tenues sine corpore vitas.'

" Your lordship's ((0 answer concerning what is said, Eccles. xii., turns wholly upon
Solomon's taking the soul to be immortal, which was not what 1 question : nil tliatl quoted
that place for, was to show, tliat spirit in English niigh.t properly he applied to the soul,
without any notion of its immateriality, as nil was by Solomon, which, whether he thouglit
the souls of men to be immaterial, does little appear in that passage where he speaks of
the souls of men and beasts together, as he does. But farther, what 1 contended for is
(a) 2. Tim. i. 10. (b) First answer, (c) yEncid -1, 386. {d) First answer.

Ch. 3. EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 473

enough secured, without philosophical proofs of the soul's imma-
teriality ; since it is evident, that he who made us at the begin-
ning- to subsist here, sensible intelligent beings, and for several

evident from that place, in that the word spirit is there applied by our translators, to the
souls of beasts, which your lordship, I think, does not rank, amongst the immaterial, and
consequently immortal, spirits, though they have sense and spontaneous motion.

" But you say, {a) ' U the soul be not of itself a free thinking substance, you do not
see what foimdation there is in nature for a day of judgment.' Ans. Though the heathen
world did not of old, nor do to this day, see a foundation in nature for a day of judgment;
yet in revelation, if that will satisfy your lordship, every one may see a foundation for a
day of judgment, because God has positively declared it ; though God has not, by that
revelation, taught us what the substance of the soul is ; nor has aj>y wliere said, tliat the
soul of itself is a free agent. Whatsoever any created substance is, it is not of itself, but
is by the good pleasure of its Creator : whatever degrees of perfection it has, it has from
the bountiful hand of its Maker. For it is true in a natural, as well as a spiritual, sense,
what St. Paul says, (h) ' Not that we are sufiicient of ourselves to tliink any thing as of
ourselves, but our sufficiency is of God.'

" But your lordship, as I guess by your following words, would argue, that a material
substance cannot be a free agent ; whereby I suppose you only mean, that you cannot see
or conceive how a solid substance should begin, stoj), or change its own motion. To
which, give me leave to answer, that when you can make it conceivable, how any created,
finite, dependant substance can move itself, or alter or stop its own motion, which it must
to be a free agent ; I suppose you will find it no harder for God to bestow this power on
a solid, than an unsolid, created substance. Tully, in the place above-quoted, (c) could
not conceive this power to be in any thing but what was from eternity ; Cum yateat igitur
teterniim id esse quod seipsuin mof eat quis est qui hanc naturam animis esse trilnUam neget?
But though you cannot see bow any created substance, solid or not solid, can be a free
agent (pardon me, my lord, if I put in both, till your lordship please to explain it of either,
and show the manner how either of them can, of itself, move itself or any thing else),
yet 1 do not think you will so far deny men to be free agents, from the ditficulty there
is to see how they are free agents, as to doubt whether there be foundation enough for a
day of judgment.

" It is not for me to judge how far your lordship's speculations reach ; but finding in
myself nothing to be truer tiian what the wise Solomon tells me, (d) ' As thou knowest
not what is the way of the spirit, nor how the bones do grow in the womb of her that
is with child ; even so thou knowest not the works of God, who makcth all things ;' I
gratefully receive and rejoice in the light of revelation, whicii sets me at rest in many
things, tlie manner whereof my poor reason can by no means make out to me : Omnipo-
tency, I know, can do any thing that contains in it no contradiction : so that I readily
believe whatever God has declared, thougli my reason find difficulties in it, whicli it cannot
master. As in the present case, God having revealed that there shall be a day of judg-
ment, I think that foundation enough to conclude men are free enough to be made answer-
able for their actions, and to receive according to what they have done; though how man
is a free agent, surpasses my explication or comprehension.

" In answer to the place I brought out of St. Luke, (e) your lordship asks, (f)
' Whether from these words of our Saviour it follows, that a sjiirit is only the appearance r'
I answer. No ; nor do I know who drew such an inference from them : but it follows, that
in apparitions there is something tliat appears, and that which appears is not wliolly imma-
terial; and yet this was properly called Tri/^ti^a, and was often looked upon, by those
who called ii iruiVfict in Greek, and now call it spirit in English, to be the ghost or soul
of one departed; wliicli, I humbly conceive, justifies my use of the word spirit, for a
tliinking voluntary agent, whether material or immaterial.

" Your lordship says, (<,') ' That I grant, that it cannot upon these principles be demon-
strated, that the spiritual substance in us is immaterial :' from whence you conclude, ' 1 hat
then my grounds of certainty from ideas are plainly given up. This being a way of ar-

(o) First answer. (/)) 2. Cor, iii. 5. (c) Tus. Quajst. 1. i. c. 'J3. (d) Eccles. xi. 5.
(e) C. xxiv., V. 3'J. (f) First answer. (g) lljitl-

474 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

years, continued us in such a state, can and will restore us to
the like state of sensibility in another world, and make us
capable there to receive the retribution he has designed to men,
accordino- to their doinos in this life. And therefore it is not
of such mighty necessity to determine one way or the other, as
some over zealous for or against the immateriality of the soul,
have been forward to make the world believe. Who, either on
the one side, indulging too much their thoughts, immersed
altogether in matter, can allow no existence to what is not
material : or who, on the other side, finding not cogitation
within the natural powers of matter, examined over and over
again, by the utmost intention of mind, have the confidence to
conclude, that orauipotency itself cannot give perception and
thought to a substance which has the modification of solidity.
He that considers how hardly sensation is, in our thoughts,
reconcileable to extended matter ; or existence to any thing-
that hath no extension at all, will confess, that he is very far
from certainly knowing w^hat his soul is. It is a point, which
seems to me to be put out of the reach of our knowledge :
and he who will give himself leave to consider freely, and look
into the dark and intricate part of each hypothesis, will scarce
find his reason able to determine him fixedly for or against the
soul's materiality. Since on which side soever he views it,
either as an unextended substance, or as a thinking extended
matter ; the difficulty to conceive either, will, whilst either
alone is in his thoughts, still drive him to the contrary side.
An unfair way which some men take with themselves : who,
because of the inconceivableness of something they find in one,
throw themselves violently into the contrary hypothesis, though
altogether as unintelligible to an unbiassed understanding.
This serves not only to show the weakness and the scantiness
of our knowledge, but the insignificant triumph of such sort of
arguments, which drawn from our own views, may satisfy us
that we can find no certainty on one side of the question; but
do not at all thereby help us to truth, by running into the
opposite opinion, which, on examination, will be found clogged
with equal difficulties. For what safety, what advantage, to
any one is it, for the avoiding the seeming absurdities, and.

guing that ^'ou often make use of, 1 have often had occasion to consider it, and cannot
after all see the force of this argument. I acknowledge that tliis or that proposition
cannot upon my principles be demonstrated ; ergo, I grant this prnposition to be false,
that ctrtaiiity consists in the perception of the agreement or disagreement of ideas. For
that is my ground of certainty, and till that be given up, my grounds of certainty are not
given up."

Ch.3. EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 475

to him, insurmountable rubs he meets with in one opinion, to
take refuoe in the contrary, which is built on something; alto-
gether as inexplicable, and as far remote from his compre-
hension ? It is past controversy, that we have in us something
that thinks ; our very doubts about what it is, confirm the
certainty of its being, though we must content ourselves in the
ignorance of what kind of being it is : and it is in vain to go
about to be sceptical in this, as it is unreasonable in most other
cases to be positive against the being of any thing, because we
cannot comprehend its nature. For I would fain know what
substance exists that has not something in it, which manifestly
baffles our understandings. Other spirits, who see and know
the nature and inward constitution of things, how much must
they exceed us in knowledge ? To which if we add larger
comprehension, which enables them at one glance to see the
connexion and agreement of very many ideas, and readily
supplies to them the intermediate proofs, which we by sino-le
and slow steps, and long poring in the dark, hardly at last find
out, and are often ready to forget one, before we have hunted
out another ; we may guess at some part of the happiness of
superior ranks of spirits, who have a quicker and more pene-
trating sight, as well as a larger field of knowledge. But to
return to the argument in hand, our knowledge, I say, is not
only limited to the paucity and imperfections of the ideas we
have, and whicli we employ it about, but even comes short of
that too : but how far it reaches, let us now enquire.

§. 7. How far our knoicleclge reaches. — The affirmations or
negations we make concerning the ideas we have, mav, as I
have before intimated in general, be reduced to these four
sorts, viz., identity, co-existence, relation, and real existence.
I shall examine how far our knowledge extends in each of
these.

§. 8. First, our knowledge of identity and diversity, as far
as our ideas. — First, As to identity and diversity, in this
way of agreement or disagreement of our ideas, our intuitive
knowledge is as far extended as our idej^ themselves : and
there can be no idea in the mind, which it does not presently,
by an intuitive knowledge, perceive to be what it is, and to be
different from any other.

§. 9. iSecujidiy, of co-existence a very little way. — Secondly,
As to the second sort, which is the agreement or disagreement
of our ideas in co-existence; in this our knowledge is very
short, though in this consists the greatest and most material
part of our knowledge concerning substances. For our ideas
of the species of substances, being, as I have shown, nothing

476 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

but certain collections of simple ideas united in one subject,
and so co-existing together : v. g. our idea of flame is a body
hot, luminous, and moving upward ; of gold, a body heavy to a
certain degree, yellow, malleable, and fusible. These, or some
such complex ideas as these in men's minds, do these two
names of the different substances, flame and gold, stand for.
When we would know any thing farther concerning these, or
any other sort of substances, what do we enquire, but what
other qualities, or power, these substances have, or have not ?
Which is nothing else but to know, what other simple ideas
do, or do not, co-exist with those that make up that complex
idea?

§. 10. Because the connexion between most simple ideas is
unknown. — This, how weighty and considerable a part soever of
human science, is yet very narrow, and scarce any at all. The
reason whereof is, that the simple ideas, whereof our complex
ideas of substances are made up, are, for the most part, such
as carry with them, in their own nature, no visible necessary
connexion, or inconsistency, with any other simple ideas, whose
co-existence with them we would inform ourselves about,

§. 11. Especially of secondary qualities. — The ideas that
our complex ones of substances are made up of, and about
which our knowledge, concerning substances, is most employed,
are those of their secondary qualities ; which depending all (as
has been shown) upon the primary qualities of their minute
and insensible parts ; or if not upon them, upon something yet
more remote from our comprehension, it is impossible we should
know which have a necessary union or inconsistency one with
another: for not knowing the root they spring from, not knowing
what size, figure, and texture of parts they are, on which depend,
and from which result, those qualities which make our complex
idea of gold, it is impossible we should know what other
qualities result from, or are incompatible with, the same consti-
tution of the insensible parts of gold : and so consequently must
always co-exist with that complex idea we have of it, or else
are inconsistent with it.

§ 12. Because all comiexion hetioeeji any secondary and
primary qualities, is undiscoverahle. — Besides this ignorance of
the primary qualities of the insensible parts of bodies, on which
depend all their secondary qualities, there is yet another and
more incurable part of ignorance, which sets us more remote from
a certain knowledge of the co-existence or inco-existence (if I
may so say) of different ideas in the same subject ; and that is,
that there is no discoverable connexion between any secondary
quality, and those primary qualities which it depends on.

C/i. 3. EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 477

§. 13. That the size, figure, and motion of one body, should
cause a change in the size, figure, and motion of another body,
is not beyond our conception : the separation of the parts of one
body, upon the intrusion of another ; and the change from rest
to motion, upon impulse ; these, and the like, seem to us to
have some connexion one with another. And if we knew these
primary qualities of bodies, we might have reason to hope,
we might be able to know a great deal more of these operations
of them one with another : but our minds not being able to
discover any connexion between these primary qualities of
bodies, and the sensations that are produced in us by them, we
can never be able to establish certain and undoubted rules of
the consequences or co-existence of any secondary qualities,
though we could discover the size, figure, or motion of those
invisible parts which immediately produce them. We are so
far from knowing what figure, size, or motion of parts produce a
yellow colour, a sweet taste, or a sharp sound, that we can by
no means conceive how any size, figure, or motion of any
particles, can possibly produce in us the idea of any colour,
taste, or sound whatsoever ; there is no conceivable connexion
between the one and the other.

§. 14. In vain, therefore, shall we endeavour to discover by
our ideas (the only true way of certain and universal know-
ledge), what other ideas are to be found constantly joined with
that of our complex idea of any substance : since we neither
know the real constitution of the minute parts on which their
qualities do depend ; nor, did we know them, could we discover
any necessary connexion between them, and any of the secon-
dary qualities : which is necessary to be done, before we can
certainly know their necessary co-existence. So that let our
complex idea of any species of substances, be what it will, we
can hardly, from the simple ideas contained in it, certainly
determine the necessary co-existence of any other quality
whatsoever. Our knowledge in all these enquiries, reaches
very little farther than our experience. Indeed, some few of the
primary qualities have a necessary dependence, and visible
connexion, one with another, as figure necessarily supposes
extension ; receiving or communicating motion by impulse,
supposes solidity. But though these, and perhaps some other
of our ideas, have, yet there are so few of them, that have a
visible connexion one with another, that we can by intuition or
demonstration discover the co-existence of very few of the
qualities that are to be found united in substances : and we are
left only to the assistance of our senses, to make known to us
what qualities they contain. For of all the qualities that are co-

478 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

existent in any subject, without this dependence and evident
connexion of their ideas one with another, we cannot know
certainly any two to co-exist any farther, than experience, by
our senses, informs us. Thus though we see the yellow
colour, and upon trial find the weight, malleableness, fusibility,
and fixedness, that are united in a piece of gold ; yet because
no one of these ideas has any evident dependence, or necessary
connexion with the other, we cannot certainly know, that where
any four of these are, the fifth will be there also, how highly
probable soever it may be : because tlie highest probability
amounts not to certainty; without which there can be no true
knowledge. For this co-existence can be no farther known,
than it is perceived ; and it cannot be perceived but either in
particular subjects, by the observation of our senses, or in
general, by the necessary connexion of the ideas themselves.

§. 15. Of repugnancy lo co-exist larger. — As to the incompati-
bility or repugnancy to co-existence, we may know, that any
subject may have of each sort of primary qualities, but one
particular at once, v. g. each particular extension, figure,
number of parts, motion, excludes all other of each kind.
The like also is certain of all sensible ideas peculiar to each
sense ; for whatever of each kind is present in any subject,
excludes all other of that sort; v. g. no one subject can have
two smells, or two colours, at the same time. To this, perhaps,
will be said, Has not an opal, or the infusion of lignum nephriti-
cum, two colours at the same time ? To which I answer, that
these bodies, to eyes differently placed, may at the same time
afford different colours : but I take liberty also to say, that to
eyes differently placed, it is different parts of the object that
reflect the particles of light : and therefore it is not the same
part of the object, and so not the very same subject, which at
the same time appears both yellow and azure. For it is as
impossible that the very same particle of any body should, at
the same time, differently modify or reflect the rays of light, as
that it should have two different figures and textures at the
same time.

§. 16. Of the co-existence of powers a very little way. — But as
to the powers of substances to change the sensible qualities of
other bodies, which make a great part of our enquiries about
them, and is no considerable branch of our knowledge ; I doubt,
as to these, whether our knowledge reaches much farther than our
experience ; or whether we can come to the discovery of most of
these powers, and be certain that they are in any subject, by the
connexion with any of those ideas which to us make its essence.
Because the active and passive powers of bodies, and their ways

CA.3. EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 479

of operating, consisting in a texture and motion of parts, which we
cannot by any means come to discover : it is but in very few cases
we can be able to perceive their dependence on, or repuj^nance to,
any of those ideas, which make our complex one of that sort of
things. I have here instanced in tlie corpuscularian hypothesis,
as that which is thought to go farthest in an intelligible explication
of those qualities of bodies ; and I fear the weakness of human
understanding is scarce able to substitute another, Avhich will
afford us a fuller and clearer discovery of the necessary con-
nexion and co-existence of the powers which are to be observed
iniited in several sorts of them. This at least is certain, that
whichever hypothesis be clearest and truest (for of that it is
not ray business to determine), our knowledge concerning"
corporeal substances, will be very little advanced by any of
them, till we are made to see what qualities and powers of bodies
have a necessary connexion or repugnancy one with another ;
which in the present state of philosophy, I think, we know but
to a very small degree : and I doubt whether with those
faculties we have, we shall ever be able to carry our general
knowledge (I say not particular experience) in this part much
farther. Experience is that which in this part we must depend
on. And it were to be wished, that it were more improved.
We find the advantages some men's generous pains have this
way brought to the stock of natural knowledge. And if others,
especially the philosophers by fire, who pretend to it, had been
so wary in their observations, and sincere in their reports, as
those who call themselves philosophers ought to have been ;
our acquaintance with the bodies here about us, and our
insight into their powers and operations, had been yet much
greater.

§. 17. Of spirits yet narrower. — If we are at a loss in
respect of the powers and operations of bodies, I think it is
easy to conclude, we are much more in the dark in reference to
the spirits ; whereof we naturally have no ideas, but what we draw
from that of our own, by reflecting on the operations of our
own souls within us, as far as they can come within our obser-
vation. But how inconsiderable a rajik the spirits that inhabit
our bodies, hold amongst those various, and possibly innu-
merable, kinds of nobler beings ; and how far short they come
of the endowments and perfections of cherubims and seraphims,
and infinite sorts of spirits above us ; is what by a transient
hint, in another place, I have offered to my reader's consider-
ation.

§. 18. Thirdlif, of other relations it is not easy to say how
far. — As to the third sort of our knowledge, viz., the agreement

480 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. BookA.

or disajTreement of any of onr ideas in any other relation : this,
as it is the largest field of our knowledge, so it is hard to
determine how far it may extend : because the advances that
are made in this part of knowledge, depending on our sagacity
in finding intermediate ideas, that may show the relations and
habitudes of ideas, whose co-existence is not considered, it is
a hard matter to tell when we are at an end of such discoveries ;
and when reason has all the helps it is capable of, for the
finding of proofs, or examining the agreement or disagreement
of remote ideas. They that are ignorant of algebra, cannot
imagine the wonders in this kind are to be done by it; and what
farther improvements and helps, advantageous to other parts of
knowledge, the sagacious mind of man may yet find out, it is
not easy to determine. This, at least, I believe, that the ideas
of quantity are not those alone that are capable of demonstra-
tion and knowledge ; and that other, and perhaps more useful,
parts of contemplation, would afford us certainty, if vices,
passions, and domineering interest, did not oppose or menace
such endeavours.

Morality capable of demonstration. — The idea of a Supreme
Being, infinite in power, goodness, and wisdom, whose workman-
ship we are, and on whom we depend ; and the idea of om'selves,
as understanding rational beings, being such as are clear in us,
would, I suppose, if duly considered and pursued, afford such
foundations of our duty and rules of action, as might place
morality amongst the sciences capable of demonstration ; wherein
I doubt not, but from self-evident propositions, by necessary
consequences, as incontestible as those in mathematics, the
measures of right and wrong might be made out, to any one that
will apply himself with the same indifferency and attention to
the one, as he does to the other of these sciences. The relation
of other modes may certainly be perceived, as well as those of
number and extension ; and I cannot see why they should not
also be capable of demonstration, if due methods were thought
on to examine, or pursue, their agreement or disagreement.
Where there is no property, there is no injustice, is a propo-
sition as certain as any demonstration in Euclid : for the idea of
property, being a right to any thing ; and the idea to which the
name injustice is given, being the invasion or violation of that
right ; it is evident, that these ideas being thus established, and
these names annexed to them, I can as certainly know this pro-
position to be true, as that a triangle has three angles equal to
two right ones. Again, "no government allows absolute liberty ;"
the idea of government being the establishment of society upon
certain rules or laws, vv^hich require conformity to them ; and

Ch. 3. EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 481

the idea of absolute liberty being for any one to do whatever he
pleases ; I am as capable of being certain of the truth of this
proposition, as of any in the mathematics.

§. 19. Tioo things have made moral ideas thought incapable of
demonstration ; their complexedness, and want of sensible repre-
sentations.— That which in this respect has given the advantage
to the ideas of quantity, and made them thought more capable of
certainty and demonstration, is.

First, That they can be set down and represented by sensible
marks, which have a greater and nearer correspondence with
them, than any words or sounds whatsoever. Diagrams drawn
on paper, are copies of the ideas in the mind, and not liable
to the uncertainty that words carry in their signification. An
angle, circle, or square, drawn in lines, lies open to the view, and
cannot be mistaken ; it remains unchangeable, and may, at
leisure, be considered and examined, and the demonstration be
revised, and all the parts of it may be gone over more than
once, without any danger of the least change in the ideas. This
cannot be thus done in moral ideas ; we have no sensible marks
that resemble them, whereby we can set them down; we have
nothing but words to express them by ; which though, when
written, they remain the same, yet the ideas they stand for, may
change in the same man ; and it is very seldom that they are
not different in different persons.

Secondly, Another thing that makes the greater difficulty in
ethics, is, that moral ideas are commonly more complex than
tliose of the figures ordinarily considered in mathematics. From
whence these two inconveniences follow. 1, That their names
are of more uncertain signification, the precise collection of
simple ideas they stand for not being so easily agreed on, and
so the sign that is used for them in communication always, and
in thinking often, does not steadily carry with it the same idea.
Upon which the same disorder, confusion, and error follow, as
would, if a man, going to demonstrate something of an heptagon,
should, in the diagram he took to do it, leave out one of the
angles, or, by oversight, make the figure with one angle more than
the name ordinarily imported, or he intended it should, when at
first he thought of his demonstration. This often happens, and
is hardly avoidable in very complex moral ideas, where the same
name being retained, one angle, i. e. one simple idea, is left out of,
or put in, the complex one (still called by the same name), more
at one time than another. 2, From the complexedness of these
moral ideas, there follows another inconvenience, viz., that the
mind cannot easily retain those precise combinations so exactly
and perfectly as is necessary in the examination of the habi-

I I

482 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

tudes and correspondencies, agreements or disagreements, of
several of them, one with another ; especially where it is to be
judged of by long deductions, and the intervention of several
other complex ideas, to show the agreement or disagreement of
two remote ones.

The great help against this, which mathematicians find in dia-
grams and figures, which remain unalterable in their draughts,
is very apparent ; and the memory would often have great diffi-
culty otherwise to retain them so exactly, whilst the mind went
over the parts of them, step by step, to examine their several
correspondencies ; and though, in casting up a long sum, either
in addition, multiplication, or division, every part be only a pro-
gression of the mind, taking a view of its own ideas, and consi-
dering their agreement or disagreement ; and the resolution of
the question be nothing but the result of the whole, made up
of such particulars, whereof the mind has a clear perception ;
yet without setting down the several parts by marks, whose pre-
cise significations are known, and by marks that last and remain
in view when the memory had let them go, it would be almost
impossible to carry so many different ideas in the mind, without
confounding, or letting slip, some parts of the reckoning, and
thereby make ^.11 our reasonings about it useless. In which
case, the cyphers, or marks, help not the mind at all to perceive
the agreement of any two or more numbers, their equalities
or proportions ; that the mind has only by intuition of its own
ideas of the numbers themselves. But the numerical charac-
ters are helps to the memory, to record and retain the several
ideas about which the demonstration is made, whereby a man
may know how far his intuitive knowledge, in surveying
several of the particulars, has proceeded ; that so he may, without
confusion, go on to what is yet unknown, and at last have in one
view before him the result of all his perceptions and reasonings.
§. 20- Remedies of those difficulties. — One part of these dis-
advantages in moral ideas, which has made them be thought not
capable of demonstration, may in a good measure be remedied
by definitions, setting down that collection of simple ideas
which every term shall stand for, and then using the terms
steadily and constantly for that precise collection. And what
methods algebra, or something of that kind, may hereafter sug-
gest, to remove the other difficulties, it is not easy to foretel.
Confident I am, that if men would, in the same method, and with
the same indifferency, search after moral, as they do mathematical,
truths, they would find them have a stronger connexion one
with another, and a more necessary consequence from our clear
and distinct ideas, and to come nearer perfect demonstration.

Ch. 3. EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 483

than is commonly imagined. But much of this is not to be
expected, whilst the desire of esteem, riches, or power, makes
men espouse the well-endowed opinions in fashion, and then
seek arguments, either to make good their beauty, or varnish
over and cover their deformity : nothing being so beautiful to
the eye, as truth is to the mind ; nothing so deformed and irre-
concilable to the understanding, as a lie. For though many
a man can with satisfaction enough own a no very handsome wife
in his bosom; yet who is bold enough openly to avow, that he
has espoused a falsehood, and received into his breast so ugly a
thing as a lie ? whilst the parties of men cram their tenets down
all men's throats, whom they can get into their power, without
permitting them to examine their truth or falsehood, and will
not let truth have fair play in the world, nor men the liberty
to search after it ; what improvements can be expected of this
kind ? What greater light can be hoped for in the moral
sciences ? The subject part of mankind, in most places, might,
instead thereof, with Egyptian bondage expect Egyptian dark-
ness, were not the candle of the Lord set up by himself in
men's minds, which it is impossible for the breath or power of
man wholly to extinguish.

§.21. Fourtlily , of real existence : we have an intuitive know-
ledge of our own ; demonstrative, of God's ; sensitive, of some few
other things. — As to the fourth sort of our knowledge, viz., of
the real actual existence of things, we have an intuitive know-
ledge of our own existence ; and a demonstrative knowledge of
the existence of a God : of the existence of any thing else, we
have no other but a sensitive knowledge, which extends not
beyond the objects present to our senses.

§. 22. Our ignorance great. — Our knowledge being so narrow,
as I have shown, it will, perhaps, give us some light into the
present state of our minds, if we look a little into the dark side,
and take a view of our ignorance : which, being infinitely larger
than our knowledge, may serve much to the quieting of dis-
putes, and improvement of useful knowledge ; if discovering
how far we have clear and distinct ideas, we confine our thoughts
within the contemplation of those things that are within the
reach of our understandings, and launch not out into that abyss of
darkness (where we have not eyes to see, nor faculties to per-
ceive, any thing), out of a presumption, that nothing is beyond
our comprehension. But to be satisfied of the folly of such
a conceit, we need not go far. He that knows any thing, knows
this in the first place, that he need not seek long for instances of
his ignorance. The meanest and most obvious things that come
in our way, have dark sides, that the quickest sight cannot

I I 2

404 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book A.

penetrate into. The clearest and most enlarged understandings
of thinking men, find themselves puzzled, and at a loss, in every
particle of matter. We shall tlie less wonder to find it so, when
we consider the causes of our ignorance, which, from what has
been said, I suppose will be found to be these three :

First, Want of ideas.

Secondly, Want of a discoverable connexion between the ideas
we have.

Thirdly, Want of tracing and examining our ideas.

^. 23. First, one cause of it, want of ideas, either such cw we
have no conception of, or such as particularly we have not. — First,
There are some things, and those not a few, that we are ignorant
of, for want of ideas.

1, All the simple ideas we have, are confined (as I have shown)
to those we receive from corporeal objects by sensation, and from
the operation of our own minds as the objects of reflection. But
how much these few and narrow inlets are disproportionate to the
vast whole extent of all beings, will not be hard to persuade
those who are not so foolish as to think their span the measure
of all things. What other simple ideas it is possible the creatures
in other parts of the universe may have, by the assistance of
senses and faculties more, or perfecter, than we have, or different
from ours, it is not for us to determine ; but to say or think
there are no such, because we conceive nothing of them, is no
better an argument, than if a blind man should be positive in it,
that there was no such thing as sight and colours, because he had
no manner of idea of any such thing, nor could by any means
frame to himself any notions about seeing. The ignorance and
darkness that is in us, no more hinders nor confines the know-
ledo-e that is in others, than the blindness of a mole is an argu-
ment acainst the quick-sightedness of an eagle. He that will
consider the infinite power, wisdom, and goodness of the Creator
of all things, will find reason to think it was not all laid out upon
so inconsiderable, mean, and impotent a creature as he will find
man to be; who, in all probability, is one of the lowest of all
intellectual beings. What faculties therefore other species of
creatures have, to penetrate into the nature and inmost constitu-
tions of things ; what ideas they may receive of them, far
different from ours, we know not. This we know, and certainly
find, that we want several other views of them, besides those we
have, to make discoveries of them more perfect. And we may
be convinced that the ideas we can attain to by our faculties,
are very disproportionate to things themselves, when a positive,
clear, distinct one of substance itself, which is the foundation of
all the rest, is concealed from us. But want of ideas of this

Ch. 3. EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 485

kind, being a part as well as cause of our ignorance, cannot be
described. Only this I think I may confidently say of it, that
the intellectual and sensible world, are in this perfectly alike ;
that that part, which we see of either of them, holds no propor-
tion with what we see not ; and whatsoever we can reach with
our eyes, or our thoughts, of either of them, is but a point, almost
nothing, in comparison with the rest.

§. 24. Because of their remoteness ; — 2, Another great
cause of ignorance, is the want of ideas we are capable of. As
the want of ideas, which our faculties are not able to give us,
shuts us wholly from those views of things which it is reason-
able to think other beings, more perfect than we, have, of which
we know nothing ; so the want of ideas I now speak of, keeps us
in ignorance of things we conceive capable of being known tb
us. Bulk, figure, and motion, we have ideas of. But though
we are not without ideas of these primary qualities of bodies ih
general ; yet not knowing what is the particular bulk, figure, and
motion of the greatest part of the bodies of the universe, we
are ignorant of the several powers, efficacies, and ways of opera-
tion, whereby the eflfects, which we daily see, are produced.
These are hid from us in some things, by being too remote ; and
in others, by being too minute. When we consider the vast
distance of the known and visible parts of the world, and the
reasons we have to think, that what lies within our ken, is but
a small part of the universe, we shall then discover a
huge abyss of ignorance. What are the particular fabrics
of the great masses of matter, which make up the whole stupen-
dous frame of corporeal beings ; how far they are extended;
what is their motion, and how continued or communicated, and
what influence they have one upon another ; are contemplations,
that at first glimpse our thoughts lose themselves in. If we
narrow our contemplations, and confine our thoughts to this little
canton, I mean this system of our sun, and the grosser masses of
matter that visibly move about it; what several sorts of vege-
tables, animals, and intellectual corporeal beings, infinitely differ-
ent from those of our little spot of earth, may there probably
be in the other planets, to the knowledge of which, even of their
outward figures and parts, we can no way attain, whilst we are
confined to this earth, there being no natural means, either by
sensation or reflection, to convey their certain ideas into our
minds ? They are out of the reach of those inlets of all our
knowledge : and what sorts of furniture and inhabitants those
mansions contain in them, we cannot so much as guess, much
less Jiave clear and distinct ideas of them.

§. 25. Or, because of their minuteness. — If a great, nay, far the

J 1 3

486 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

greatest, part of the several ranks of bodies in the universe,
escape our notice by their remoteness, there are others that are
no less concealed from us by their minuteness. These insensible
corpuscles, being the active parts of matter, and the great instru-
ments of nature, on which depend not only all their secondary
qualities, but also most of their natural operations, our want of
precise distinct ideas of their primary qualities, keeps us in an
incurable ignorance of what we desire to know about them. I
doubt not but if we could discover the figure, size, texture, and
motion of the minute constituent parts of any two bodies, we
should know, without trial, several of their operations one upon
another, as we do now the properties of a square, or a triangle.
Did we know the mechanical affections of the particles of rhu-
barb, hemlock, opium, and a man ; as a watch-maker does those
of a watch, whereby it performs its operations, and of a file
which by rubbing on them will alter the figure of any of the
wheels ; we should be able to tell before-hand, that rhubarb will
purge, hemlock kill, and opium make a man sleep ; as well as a
watch-maker can, that a little piece of paper laid on the balance,
will keep the watch from going, till it be removed j or that some
small part of it being rubbed by a file, the machine would quite
lose its motion, and the watch go no more. The dissolving of
silver in aqua fortis, and gold in aqua regia, and not vice versa,
would be then perhaps no more difficult to know, than it is to a
smith to understand why the turning of one key will open a lock,
and not the turning of another. But whilst we are destitute of
senses acute enough to discover the minute particles of bodies,
and to give us ideas of their mechanical affections, we must be
content to be ignorant of their properties and ways of operation ;
nor can we be assured about them, any farther than some few
trials we make are able to reach. But whether they will succeed
again another time, we cannot be certain. This hinders our cer-
tain knowledge of universal truths concerning natural bodies ;
and our reason carries us herein very little beyond particular
matter of fact.

§. 26. Hence no science of bodies. — And therefore I am apt to
doubt, that how far soever human industry may advance useful
and experimental philosophy in physical things, scientifical will
still be out of our reach ; because we want perfect and adequate
ideas of those very bodies which are nearest to us, and most
under our command. Those which we have ranked into classes
under names, and we think ourselves best acquainted with, we
have but very imperfect and incomplete ideas of. Distinct ideas
of the several sorts of bodies, that fall under the examination of
our senses, perhaps we may have ; but adequate ideas, I suspect.

Ch. 3. EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 487

we have not of any one amongst them. And though the former
of these will serve us for common use and discourse, yet whilst
we want the latter, we are not capable of scientifical knowledge ;
nor shall ever be able to discover general, instructive, unques-
tionable truths concerning them. Certainty and demonstration,
are things we must not, in these matters, pretend to. By the
colour, figure, taste, and smell, and other sensible qualities, we
have as clear and distinct ideas of sage and hemlock, as we have
of a circle and a triangle : but having no ideas of the particular
primary qualities of the minute parts of either of these plants,
nor of other bodies which we would apply them to, we cannot tell
what effects they will produce ; nor when we see those effects,
can we so much as guess, much less know, their manner of pro-
duction. Thus having no ideas of the particular mechanical
affections of the minute parts of bodies, that are within our view
and reach, we are ignorant of their constitutions, powers, and
operations : and of bodies more remote, we are yet more ignorant,
not knowing so much as their very outward shapes, or the sen-
sible and grosser parts of their constitutions.

§. 27. Much less of spirits. — This, at first sight, will show us
how disproportionate our knowledge is to the whole extent even
of material beings ; to which, if we add the consideration of
that infinite number of spirits that may be, and probably are,
which are yet more remote from our knowledge, whereof we have
no cognizance, nor can frame to ourselves any distinct ideas of
their several ranks and sorts, we shall find this cause of igno-
rance conceal from us, in an impenetrable obscurity, almost the
whole intellectual world ; a greater certainly, and more beautiful
world than the material. For bating some very few, and those,
if I may so call them, superficial, ideas of spirit, which by reflec-
tion we get of our own, and from thence, the best we can collect,
of the Father of all Spirits, the eternal independent Author of
them, and us, and all things ; we have no certain information, so
much as of the existence of other spirits, but by revelation.
Angels of all sorts are naturally beyond our discovery : and all
those intelligences, whereof it is likely there are more orders
than of corporeal substances, are things whereof our natural
faculties give us no certain account at all. That there are minds
and thinking beings in other men as well as himself, every man
has a reason, from their words and actions, to be satisfied : and
the knowledge of his own mind cannot suffer a man, that con-
siders, to be ignorant that there is a God. But that there are
degrees of spiritual beings between us and the great God, who is
there, that by his own search and ability can come to' know ?
Much less have we distinct ideas of their different natures, con-

1 I 4

488 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

ditions, states, powers, and several constitutions, wherein they
agree or differ from one another, and from us. And therefore in
what concerns their different species and properties, we are
under an absolute ignorance.

§. 28. Secojidly, want of a discoverable connexion between ideas
we have. — Secondly, What a small part of the substantial beings,
that are in the universe, the want of ideas leaves open to our
knowledge, we have seen. In the next place, another cause of
ignorance, of no less moment, is a want of a discoverable con-
nexion between those ideas we have. For wherever we want
that, we are utterly incapable of universal and certain knowledge ;
and are, in the former case, left only to observation and ex-
periment ; which, how narrow and confined it is, how far from
general knowledge, we need not be told. I shall give some few
instances of this cause of our ignorance, and so leave it. It is
evident that the bulk, figure, and motion of several bodies about
us, produce in us several sensations, as of colours, sounds,
tastes, smells, pleasure and pain, &c. These mechanical affec-
tions of bodies, having no affinity at all with those ideas they
produce in us (there being no conceivable connexion between
any impulse of any sort of body, and any perception of a colour
or smell, which we find in our minds), we can have no distinct
knowledge of such operations beyond our experience ; and can
reason no otherwise about them, than as effects produced by the
appointment of an infinitely Wise Agent, which perfectly sur-
pass our comprehensions. As the ideas of sensible secondary
qualities, which we have in our minds, can, by us, be no way
deduced from bodily causes, nor any correspondence or connexion
be found between them and those primary qualities which (ex-
perience shows us) produce them in us ; so, on the other side, the
operation of our minds upon our bodies is as inconceivable.
How any thought should produce a motion in body, is as remote
from the nature of our ideas, as how any body should produce
any thought in the mind. That it is so, if experience did not
convince us, the consideration of the things themselves would
never be able, in the least, to discover to us. These, and the like,
though they have a constant and regular connexion, in the ordi-
nary course of things ; yet that connexion being not discoverable
in the ideas themselves, which appearing to have no necessary
dependance one on another, we can attribute their connexion to
nothing else, but the arbitrary determination of that All-wise
Agent, who has made them to be, and to operate as they do, in
a way wholly above our weak understanding to conceive.

^. 29. Instances. — In some of our ideas there are certain
relations, habitudes, and connexions, so visibly included in the

Ch.S. EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 489

nature of the ideas themselves, that we cannot conceive them
separable from them, by any power whatsoever. And in these
only, we are capable of certain and universal knowledge. Thus
the idea of a right-lined triangle, necessarily carries with it an
equality of its angles to two right ones. Nor can we conceive
this relation, this connexion of these two ideas, to be possibly
mutable, or to depend on any arbitrary power, which of choice
made it thus, or could make it otherwise. But the coherence
and continuity of the parts of matter ; the production of sensa-
tion in us of colours and sounds, 8cc., by impulse and motion ;
nay, the original rules and communication of motion being such^
wherein we can discover no natural connexion with any ideas we
have, we cannot but ascribe them to the arbitrary will and good
pleasure of the Wise Architect. I need not, I think, here men-
tion the resurrection of the dead, the future state of this globe
of earth, and such other things, which are by every one acknow-
ledged to depend wholly on the determination of a free agent.
The things that, as far as our observation reaches, we constantly
find to proceed regularly, we may conclude do act by a law set
them ; but yet by a law that we know not : whereby, though
causes work steadily, and effects constantly flow from them, yet
their connexions and dependencies being not discoverable in
our ideas, we can have but an experimental knowledge of them.
From all which it is easy to perceive what a darkness we are in-
volved in, how little it is of being, and the things are, that we
are capable to know. And therefore we shall do no injury to our
knowledge, when we modestly think with ourselves, that we are
so far from being able to comprehend the whole nature of the
universe, and all the things contained in it, that we are not ca-
pable of a philosophical knowledge of the bodies that are about
us, and make a part of us : concerning their secondary qualities,
powers, and operations, we can have no universal certainty.
Several effects come every day within the notice of our senses,
of which we have so far sensitive knowledge : but the causes,
manner, and certainty of their production, for the two foregoing
reasons, we must be content to be very ignorant of. In these
we can go no farther than particular experience informs us of
matter of fact, and by analogy to guess what effects the like
bodies are, upon other trials, like to produce. But as to a per-
fect science of natural bodies (not to mention spiritual beings),
we are, I think, so far from being capable of any such thing,
that I conclude it lost labour to seek after it.

§. 30. Thirdly, want of tracing our ideas. — Thirdli/, Where
we have adequate ideas, and where there is a certain and dis-
coverable connexion between them, vet we are often ignorant.

400 EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

for want of tracing those ideas which we have, or may have,
and for want of finding out those intermediate ideas, which may
show us what habitude of agreement or disagreement they have
one with another. And thus many are ignorant of mathematical
truths, not out of any imperfection of their faculties, or uncer-
tainty in the things themselves, but for want of application in
acquiring, examining, and by due ways comparing those ideas.
That which has most contributed to hinder the due tracing of
our ideas, and finding out their relations, and agreements or dis-
agreements one with another, has been, I suppose, the ill use of
words. It is impossible that men should ever truly seek, or
certainly discover, the agreement or disagreement of ideas them-
selves, whilst their thoughts flutter about, or stick only in,
sounds of doubtful and uncertain significations. Mathematicians
abstracting their thoughts from names, and accustoming them-
selves to set before their minds the ideas themselves that they
would consider, and not sounds instead of them, have avoided
thereby a great part of that perplexity, puddering, and confusion,
which has so much hindred men's progress in other parts of
knowledge. For whilst they stick in words of undetermined and
uncertain signification, they are unable to distinguish true from
false, certain from probable, consistent from inconsistent, in their
own opinions. This having been the fate or misfortune of a
great part of men of letters, the increase brought into the
stock of real knowledge, has been very little, in proportion to
the schools, disputes, and writings, the world has been filled
with ; whilst students, being lost in the great wood of words,
knew not whereabouts they were, how far their discoveries were
advanced, or what was wanting in their own, or the general
stock of knowledge. Had men, in the discoveries of the material,
done as they have in those of the intellectual, world, involved in
all the obscurity of uncertain £ind doubtful ways of talking,
volumes writ of navigation and voyages, theories and stories, of
zones and tides, multiplied and disputed; nay, ships built, and
fleets sent out, would never have taught us the way beyond the
line ; and the antipodes would be still as much unknown, as
when it was declared heresy to hold there were any. But
having spoken sufficiently of words, and the ill or careless use
that is commonly made of them, I shall not say any thing more
of it here.

§. 31. Extent in respect of universality. — Hitherto we have
examined the extent of our knowledge, in respect of the several
sorts of beings that are. There is another extent of it, in
respect of universality, which will also deserve to be considered ;
and in this regard, our knowledge follows the nature of our

Ch. 4. REALITY OF KNOWLEDGE. 491

ideas. If the ideas are abstract, whose agreement or disagree-
ment we perceive, our knowledge is universal. For what is
known of such general ideas, will be true of every particular
thing, in whom that essence, i. e. that abstract idea, is to be
found ; and what is once known of such ideas, will be per-
petually and for^ever true. So that as to all general knowledge,
we must search and find it only in our minds ; and it is only
the examining of our own ideas, that furnisheth us with that.
Truths belonging to essences of things (that is, to abstract
ideas), are eternal, and are to be found out by the contemplation
only of those essences : as the existences of things is to be known
only from experience. But having more to say of this in the
chapters where I shall speak of general and real knowledge, this
may here suffice as to the universality of our knowledge in general.

CHAPTER IV.

OF THE REALITY OF KNOWLEDGE.

§. 1. Objection. Knowledge placed in ideas, may he all hare
vision. — I doubt not but my reader by this time may be apt to
think, that I have been all this while only building a castle in
the air ; and be ready to say to me, " To what purpose all this
stir? Knowledge, say you, is only the perception of the agree-
ment or disagreement of our own ideas : but who knows what
those ideas may be ? Is there any thing so extravagant, as the
imaginations of men's brains ? Where is the head that has no
chimeras in it ? Or, if there be a sober and a wise man, what
difference will there be, by your rules, between his knowledge,
and that of the most extravagant fancy in the world ? They
both have their ideas, and perceive their agreement and dis-
agreement one with another. If there be any difference between
them, the advantage will be on the warm-headed man's side, as
having the more id'eas, and the more lively. And so, by your
rules, he will be the more knowing. If it be true, that all know-
ledge lies only in the perception of the agreement or disagree-
ment of our own ideas, the visions of an enthusiast, and the
reasonings of a sober man, will be equally certain. It is no
matter how things are ; so a man observe but the agreement of
his own imaginations, and talk conformably, it is all truth, all
certainty. Such castles in the air, will be as strong holds of
truth, as the demonstrations of Euclid. That an harpy is not
a centaur, is by this way as certain knowledge, and as much a
truth, as that a square is not a circle.

" But of what use is all this fine knowledge of men's own

492 REALITY OF KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

imaginations, to a man that enquires after the reality of things ?
It matters not what men's fancies are, it is the knowledge of
things that is only to be prized ; it is this alone gives a value to
our reasonings, and preference to one man's knowledge over
another's, that it is of things as they really are, and not of
dreams and fancies/'

§. 2. Answer, 7iot so, where ideas agree with things. — To which
I answer, that if our knowledge of our ideas terminate in them,
and reach no farther, where there is something farther intended,
our most serious thoughts will be of little more use, than the
reveries of a crazy brain ; and the truths built thereon, of no
more weight, than the discourse of a man, who sees things
clearly in a dream, and with great assurance utters them. But
I hope, before I have done, to make it evident, that this way
of certainty, by the knowledge of our own ideas, goes a little
farther than bare imagination : and I believe it will appear, that
all the certainty of general truths a man has, lies in nothing else.

§. 3. It is evident, the mind knows not things immediately,
but only by the intervention of the ideas it has of them. Our
knowledge therefore is real, only so far as there is a conformity
between our ideas and the reality of things. But what shall be
here the criterion ? How shall the mind, when it perceives
nothing but its own ideas, know that they agree with things
themselves ? This, though it seems not to want difficulty, yet I
think there be two sorts of ideas, that, we may be assured, agree
with things.

§. 4. As, first, all simple ideas do. — First, The first are simple
ideas, which since the mind, as has been shown, can by no
means make to itself, must necessarily be the product of things
operating on the mind in a natural way, and producing therein
those perceptions which, by the wisdom and will of our Maker,
they are ordained and adapted to. From whence it follows, that
simple ideas are not fictions of our fancies, but the natural and
regular productions of things without us, really operating upon
us; and so carry with them all the conformity which is intended,
or which our state requires ; for they represent to us things
under those appearances which they are fitted to produce in us ;
whereby we are enabled to distinguish the sorts of particular
substances, to discern the states they are in, and so to take them
for our necessities, and to apply them to our uses. Thus the idea
of whiteness or bitterness, as it is in the mind, exactly answer-
ing that power which is in any body to produce it there, has all
the real conformity it can, or ought to, have, with things with-
out us. And this conformity between our simple ideas, and the
existence of things, is sufficient for real knowledge.

Ch. 4. REALITY OF KNOWLEDGE. 493

§. 5. Secondly, all comjAex ideas, except of suhstances. —
Secondly, All our complex ideas, except those of substances,
beinp; archetypes of the mind's own making, not intended to be
the copies of any thing, nor referred to the existence of any thing
as to their originals, cannot want any conformity necessary to real
knowledge. For that which is not designed to represent any thino-
but itself, can never be capable of a wrong representation, nor mis-
lead us from the true apprehension of any thing, by its dislikeness
to it : and such, excepting those of substances, are all our complex
ideas. Which, as I have shown in another place, are combinations
of ideas, which the mind, by its free choice, puts together, without
considering any connexion they have in nature. And hence it is,
that in all these sorts the ideas themselves are considered as the
archetypes, and things no otherwise regarded, but as they are
conformable to them. So that we cannot but be infallibly cer-
tain, that all the knowledge we attain concerning these ideas, is
real, and reaches things themselves. Because in all our thoughts,
reasonings, and discourses of this kind, we intend things no
farther, than as they are conformable to our ideas. So that in
these, we cannot miss of a certain and undoubted reality.

§. 6. Hence the reality of mathematical knoicledge. — I doubt
not but it will be easily granted, that the knowledge we have of
mathematical truths, is not only certain, but real, knowledge; and
not the bare empty vision of vain insignificant chimeras of the
brain ; and yet, if we will consider, we shall find that it is only
of our own ideas. The mathematician considers the truth and
properties belonging to a rectangle or circle, only as they are in
idea in his own mind. For it is possible he never found either
of them existing mathematically, i. e. precisely true, in liis life.
But yet the knowledge he has of any truths or properties be-
longing to a circle, or any other mathematical figure, are never-
theless true and certain, even of real things existing : because
real things are no farther concerned, nor intended to be meant
by any such propositions, than as things really agree to those
archetypes in his mind. Is it true of the idea of a triangle,
that its three angles are equal to two right ones ? It is true also
of a triangle, wherever it really exists. Whatever other figure
exists, that is not exactly answerable to the idea of a triangle
in his mind, is not at all concerned in that proposition. And
therefore he is certain all his knowledge concerning such ideas,
is real knowledge : because intending things no farther than they
agree with those his ideas, he is sure what he knows concerning
those figures, when they have barely an ideal existence in his
mind, will hold true of them also, when thev have a real exist-
ence in matter ; his consideration being barely of those figures,
which are the same, wherever, or however, they exist.

494 REALITY OF KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

§. 7. And of moral. — And hence it follows, that moral know-
ledge is as capable of real certainty, as mathematics. For cer-
tainty being but the perception of the agreement or disagree-
ment of our ideas ; and demonstration nothing but the percep-
tion of such agreement, by the intervention of other ideas, or
mediums, our moral ideas, as well as mathematical, being arche-
types themselves, and so adequate and complete ideas ; all the
agreement or disagreement which we shall find in them, will
produce real knowledge, as well as in mathematical figures.

§. 8. Existence not required to make it real. — For the attain-
ing of knowledge and certainty, it is requisite that we have
determined ideas : and to make our knowledge real, it is requisite
that the ideas answer their archetypes. Nor let it be wondered,
that I place the certainty of our knowledge in the consideration
of our ideas, with so little care and regard (as it may seem) to
the real existence of things : since most of those discourses,
which take up the thoughts, and engage the disputes, of those
who pretend to make it their business to enquire after truth and
certainty, will, I presume, upon examination, be found to be
general propositions, and notions in which existence is not at all
concerned. All the discourses of the mathematicians, about the
squaring of a circle, conic sections, or any other part of
mathematics, concern not the existence of any of these figures,
but their demonstrations, which depend on their ideas, are the"
same, whether there be any square or circle existing in the world,
or no. In the same manner, the truth and certainty of moral
discourses abstracts from the lives of men, and the existence of
those virtues in the world whereof they treat : nor are Tully's
Offices less true, because there is nobody in the world that
exactly practises his rules, and lives up to that pattern of a
virtuous man, which he has given us, and which existed no
where, when he writ, but in idea. If it be true in speculation,
i. e. in idea, that murder deserves death, it will also be true in
reality of any action that exists conformable to that idea of
murder. As for other actions, the truth of that proposition concerns
them not. And thus it is of all other species of things, which have
no other essences, but those ideas which are in the minds of men.

§. 9. Nor will it he less true or certain, because moral ideas are
of our own making and naming. — But it will here be said, that if
moral knowledge be placed in the contemplation of our own
moral ideas, and those, as other modes, be of our own making,
what strange notions will there be of justice and temperance ?
What confusion of virtues and vices, if every one may make what
ideas of them he pleases ? no confusion nor disorder in the things
themselves, nor in the reasonings about them ; no more than (in

Ch. 4. REALITY OF KNOWLEDGE. 495

mathematics) there would be a disturbance in the demonstration,
or a change in the properties of figures, and their relations one
to another, if a man should make a triangle with four corners, or
a trapezium with four right angles ; that is, in plain English,
change the names of the figures, and call that by one name,
which mathematicians call ordinarily by another. For let a man
make to himself the idea of a figure with three angles, whereof
one is a right one, and call it, if he please, equilaterum or
trapezium, or any thing else, the properties of, and demon-
strations about, that idea, will be the same, as if he had called it
a rectangular triangle. I confess, the change of the name, by
the impropriety of speech, will at first disturb him who knows
not what idea it stands for ; but as soon as the figure is drawn,
the consequences and demonstration are plain and clear. Just
the same is it in moral knowledge; let a man have the idea of
taking from others, without their consent, what their honest
"industry has possessed them of, and call this justice, if he please.
He that takes the name here without the idea put to it, will be
mistaken, by joining another idea of his own to that name;
but strip the idea of that name, or take it, such as it is, in the
speaker's mind, and the same things will agree to it, as if you
called it injustice. Indeed, wrong names in moral discourses
breed usually more disorder, because they are not so easily rec-
tified as in mathematics, where the figure once drawn and
seen, makes the name useless and of no force. For what need
of a sign, when the thing signified is present and in view ? But
in moral names, that cannot be so easily and shortly done, be-
cause of the many decompositions that go to the making up the
complex ideas of those modes. But yet for all this, miscalling
of any of those ideas, contrary to the usual signification of the
words of that language, hinders not but that we may have
certain and demonstrative knowledge of their several aoree-
ments and disagreements, if we will carefully, as in mathematics,
keep to the same precise ideas, and trace them in their several
relations one to another, without being led away by their names.
If we but separate the idea under that consideration from the
sign that stands for it, our knowledge goes equally on in the dis-
covery of real truth and certainty, whatever sounds we make use of.
§. 10. Misnaming, disturbs not the certainty of the knowledge.
— One thing more we are to take notice of, that where God, or
any other law-maker, hath defined any moral names, there they
have made the essence of that species to which that name
belongs ; and there it is not safe to apply or use them otherwise.
But in other cases, it is bare impropriety of speech to applv them
contrary to the common usage of the country. But yet even

49G REALITY OF KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

this too disturbs not the certainty of that knowledge, which
is still to be had by a due contemplation and comparing of those
even nick-named ideas.

§. 11. Ideas of substances have their archetypes without us. —
Thirdly, There is another sort of complex ideas, which being
referred to archetypes without us, may differ from them, and so
our knowledge about them may come short of being real. Such
are our ideas of substances, which consisting of a collection of
simple ideas, supposed taken from the works of nature, may yet
vary from them, by having more or different ideas united in
them, than are to be found united in the things themselves ; from
whence it comes to pass, that they may, and often do, fail of
being exactly conformable to things themselves.

§. 12. So far as they agree with those, so far our knowledge
concerning them is real. — I say then, that to have ideas of sub-
stances, which by being conformable to things, may afford us
real knowledge, it is not enough, as in modes, to put together
such ideas as have no inconsistence, though they did never
before so exist; v. g. the ideas of sacrilege or perjury, 8cc.,
were as real and true ideas before, as after, the existence of any
such fact. But our ideas of substances being supposed copies,
and referred to archetypes without us, must still be taken from
something that does or has existed ; they must not consist of
ideas put together at the pleasure of our thoughts, without any
real pattern they were taken from, though we can perceive no
inconsistence in such a combination. The reason whereof is,
because we knowing not what real constitution it is of sub-
stances, whereon our simple ideas depend, and which really is the
cause of the strict union of some of them one with another, and
the exclusion of others ; there are very few of them that we
can be sure are, or are not, inconsistent in nature, any farther
than experience and sensible observation reach. Herein, there-
fore, is founded the reality of our knowledge concerning sub-
stances, that all our complex ideas of them must be such, and
such only, as are made up of such simple ones, as have been
discovered to co-exist in nature. And our ideas being thus
true, though not, perhaps, very exact, copies, are yet the sub-
jects of real (as far as we have any) knowledge of them. Which
(as has been already shown) will not be found to reach very
far : but so far as it does, it will still be real knowledge. What-
ever ideas we have, the agreement we find they have with others,
will still be knowledoe. If those ideas be abstract, it will
be general knowledge. But to make it real concerning sub-
stances, the ideas must be taken from the real existence of
things. Whatever simple ideas have been found to co-exist in

CA. 4. REALITY OF KNOWLEDGE. 497

any substance, these wc may, with confidence, join together
again, and so make abstract ideas of substances. For whatever
have once had an union iji nature, may be united again.

§. 13. In our enquiries about substances, we viu^t consider
ideas, and not confine our thoughts to names or species supposed set
out by names. — Tiiis if we rightly consider, and confine not our
thoughts and abstmct ideas to names, as if there were, or could
be, no other sorts of things, than what known names had already
determined, and, as it were, set out, we should think of things
with greater freedom, and less confusion, than perhaps we do. It
would possibly be thought a bold paradox, if not a very dan-
gerous falsehood, if I should say, that some changelings, who
have lived forty years together, without any appearance of
reason, are something between a man and a beast : which pre-
judice is founded upon nothing else but a false supposition, that
these two names, man and beast, stand for distinct species so
set out by real essences, that there can come no other species
between them : whereas, if we will abstract from those names,
and the supposition of such specific essences made by nature,
wherein all things of the same denominations did exactly and
equally partake ; if we would not fancy that there were a cer-
tain number of these essences, wherein all things, as in moulds,
were cast and formed, we should find that the idea of the shape,
motion, and life of a man^ without reason, is as much a distinct
idea, and makes as much a distinct sort of things from man
and beast, as the idea of tlie shape of an ass with -reason, would
be different from either that of man or beast, and be a species
of an animal between, or distinct from, both.

^. 14. Objection afjuiiist a changeling being something between
a man and beast, answered. — Here every body will be ready to ask.
If changelings may be supposed something between man and
beast, pray what are they ? I answer, changelings, which is as
good a word to signify something different from the signifi-
cation of man or beast, as the names man and beast are to have
significations different one from the other. This, well con-
sidered, would resolve this matter, and show my meaning without
any more ado. But I am not so unacquainted with the zeal of
some men, which enables them to spin consequences, and to see
religion threatened, whenever any one ventures to quit their
forms of speaking, as not to foresee what names such a propo-
sition as this is like to be charged with ; and without doubt it
will be asked. If changelings are something between man and
beast, what will become of them in the other world ? To whi-ch
I answer. First, It concerns me not to know or enquire. To
their own master they stand or fall. It will make their state

498 REALITY OF KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

neither better nor worse, whether we determine any thing of it,
or no. They are in the hands of a faithful Creator, and a boun-
tiful Father, who disposes not of his creatures according to our
narrow thoughts or opinions, nor distinguishes them according
to names and species of our contrivance. And we that know so
little of this present world we are in, may, I think, content our-
selves without being peremptory in defining the different states
which creatures shall come into, when they go off this stage. It
may suffice us, that he hath made known to all those, who are
capable of instruction, discoursing, and reasoning, that they shall
come to an account, and receive according to what they have
done in this body.

§. 15. But, Secondly, I answer, the force of these men's
question (viz., will you deprive changelings of a future state?)
is founded on one of these two suppositions, which are both
false. The first is, that all things that have the outward shape
and appearance of a man, must necessarily be designed to an
immortal future being after this life. Or, secondly, that what-
ever is of human birth, must be so. Take away these imagi-
nations, and such questions will be groundless and ridiculous.
I desire, then, those who think there is no more but an acci-
dental difference between themselves and changelings, the
essence in both being exactly the same, to consider, whether they
can imagine immortality annexed to any outward shape of the
body ; the very proposing it, is, I suppose, enough to make
them disown it. No one yet, that ever I heard of, how much
soever immersed in matter, allowed that excellency to any figure
of the gross sensible outward parts, as to affirm eternal life
due to it, or a necessary consequence of it ; or that any mass of
matter should, after its dissolution here, be again restored here-
after to an everlasting state of sense, perception, and knowledge,
only because it was moulded into this or that figure, and had
such a particular frame of its visible parts. Such an opinion as
this, placing immortality in a certain superficial figure, turns
out of doors all consideration of soul or spirit, upon whose
account alone, some corporeal beings have hitherto been con-
cluded immortal, and others not. This is to attribute more to
the outside, than inside, of things ; to place the excellency
of a man, more in the external shape of his body, than internal
perfections of his soul ; which is but little better than to annex
the great and inestimable advantage of immortality and life
everlasting, which he has above other material beings, to annex
it, I say, to the cut of his beard, or tlie fashion of his coat.
For this or that outward mark of our bodies, no more carries
With it the hope of an eternal duration, than the fashion of a
man's suit gives him reasonable grounds to imagine it will never

CA. 4. REALITY OIKNOWLEDGK. 41)9

wear out, or that it will make him immortal. It will, perhaps
be said, that nobody thinks that the shape makes any thing-
immortal ; but it is the shape is the sign of a rational soul within,
which is immortal. I wonder who made it the sign of any such
tiling ; for barely saying it, will not make it so. It would re-
<]uire some proofs to persuade one of it. No figure that I know
speaks any such language. For it may as rationally be con-
cluded, that the dead body of a man, wherein there is to be
found no more appearance or action of life, than there is in a
statue, has yet nevertheless a living soul in it, because of its
shape ; as that there is a rational soul in a changeling, because
he has the outside of a rational creature, when his actions carry
far less marks of reason with them, in the whole course of his
life, than what are to be found in many a beast.

§. 1(), Monsters. — But it is the issue of rational parents, and
must therefore be concluded to have a rational soul. I know
not by what logic you must so conclude. I am sure this is a
conclusion that men no where allow of. For if they did, they
would not make bold, as every where they do, to destroy ill-
formed and mis-shaped productions. Ay, but these are monsters.
Let them be so ; what will your driveling, unintelligent, intract-
able changeling be ? Shall a defect in the body, make a
monster; a defect in the mind (the far more noble, and in the
common phrase, the far more essential part), not? Shall the
want of a nose, or a neck, make a monster, and put such issue
out of the rank of men ; the want of reason and understanding,
not? This is to bring all back again to what was exploded just
now ; this is to place all in the shape, and to take the measure
of a man only by his outside. To show that, according to the
ordinary way of reasoning in tJiis matter, people do lay the
whole stress on the figure, and resolve the whole essence of
the species of man (aadhey make it) into the outward shape, how
unreasonable soever it be, and how much soever they disown
it, we need but trace their thoughts and practice a little farther,
and then it will plainly appear. The well-shaped changeling
is a man, has a rational soul, though it appear not ; this is
past doubt, say you. Make the ears a little longer, and more
pointed, and the nose a little flatter that ordinary, and then you
begin to boggle ; make the face yet narrower, flatter, and
longer, and then you are at a stand ; add still more and more
of the likeness of a brute to it, and let the head be perfectly
that of some other animal, then presently it is a monster ; and
it is demonstration with you that it hath no rational soul, and
must be destroyed. Where now, I ask, shall be the just mea-
sure of the utmost bounds of that shape, that carries with it a

K K 2

600 REALITY OF KNOWLEDGE. Book A.

rational soul ? for since there have been human foetuses pro-
duced, half beast, and half man ; and others, three parts one,
and one part the other; and so it is possible they may be in all
the variety of approaches to the one or the other shape, and may
have several degrees of mixture of the likeness of a man or a brute;
I would gladly know what are those precise lineaments, which,
according to this hypothesis, are, or are not, capable of a ra-
tional soul to be joined to them. What sort of outside is the
certain sign that there is, or is not, such an inhabitant within ?
For till that be done, we talk at random of man ; and shall
always, I fear, do so, as long as we give ourselves up to certain
sounds, and the imaginations of settled and fixed species in
nature, we know not what. But after all, I desire it may be
considered, that those who think they have answered the dif-
ficulty, by telling us, that a mis-shaped foetus is a monster, run
into the same fault they are arguing against hy constituting a
species between man and beast. For what else, I pray, is their
monster in the case (if the woixi monster signifies any thing at
all), but something neither man nor beast, but partaking some-
what of either? And just so is the changeling before-men-
tioned. So necessary is it to quit the common notion of
species and essences, if we will truly look into the nature of
things, and examine them, by what our faculties can discover
in them as they exist, and not by groundless fancies, that have
been taken up about them.

§. 17. Words and species. — I 'have mentioned this here,
because I think we cannot be too cautious that words and
species, in the ordinary notions w^hich we have been used to of
them, impose not on us. For I am apt to think, therein lies
one great obstacle to our clear and distinct knowledge, espe-
cially in reference to substances ; and from thence has rose a
great part of the difficulties about truth and certainty. Would
we accustom ourselves to separate contemplations, and our rea-
sonings from words, we might, in a great measure, remedy this
inconvenience \vithin our own thoughts ; but yet it would still
disturb us in our discourse with others, as long as we retained
the opinion, that species and their essences were any thing else
but our abstract ideas (such as they are), with names annexed
to them, to be the signs of them.

§. 18, Recapitulations. — Wherever we perceive the agree-
ment or disagreement of any of our ideas, there is certain know-
ledge ; and wherever we are sure those ideas agree with the
reality of things, there is certain real knowledge. Of which
agreement of our ideas with the reality of things, having here
given the marks, I think I have shown wherein it is, that cer-

(7^.5. TRUTH IN GENERAL. 501

tainty, real certainty, consists. Which, whatever it was to
others, was, I confess, to me, heretofore, one of those desiderata
which I found great want of.

CHAPTER V.

OF TRUTH IN GENERAL.

§. 1. What truth is.— What is truth ? was an enquiry many
ages since : and it being that which all mankind either do, or
pretend to, search after, it cannot but be worth our while carefully
to examine wherein it consists ; and so acquaint ourselves with
the nature of it, as to observe how the mind distinguishes it
from falsehood.

§. 2. A right joining or separating of signs; i. e. ideas or
words. — Truth then seems to me, in the proper import of the
word, to signify nothing but the joining or separating of signs,
as the things signified by them, to agree or disagree one with
another. The joining or separating of signs here meant, is what
by snother name we call proposition. So that truth properly
belongs only to propositions ; whereof there are two sorts, viz.,
mental and verbal ; as there are two sorts of signs commonly
made use of, viz., ideas and words.

§. 3. Which make mental or verbal propositions. — To form a
clear notion of truth, it is very necessary to consider truth of
thought, and truth of words, distinctly one from another ; but
yet it is very difficult to treat of them asunder; because it is
unavoidable in treating of mental propositions, to make use of
words ; and then the instances given of mental propositions, cease
immediately to be barely mental, and become verbal. For a
mental proposition being nothing but a bare consideration of
the ideas, as they are in our minds stripped of names, they "lose
the nature of purely mental propositions, as soon as they are
put into words.

§. 4. Mental propositions are very hard to be treated of. —
And that which makes it yet harder to treat of mental and
verbal propositions separately, is, that most men, if not all, in
their thinking and reasonings within themselves, make use of
words instead of ideas, at least when the subject of their medi-
tation contains in it complex ideas. Which is a great evi-
dence of the imperfection and uncertainty of our ideas of that
kind, and may, if attentively made use of, serve for a mark to
show us what are those things we have clear and perfect
established ideas of, and what not. For if we will curiously
observe the way our mind takes in thinking and reasoning,

K^ 3

502 TRUTH IN GENEIIAL. Book 4.

we shall find, I suppose, that when we make any propositions
within our own thoughts, about white or black, sweet or bitter, a
triangle or a circle, we can, and often do, frame in our minds the
ideas themselves, without reflecting on the names. But when
we would consider or make propositions about the more com-
plex ideas, as of a man, vitriol, fortitude, glory, we usually put
the name for the idea ; because the ideas these names stand for,
being for the most part imperfect, confused, and undetermined,
we reflect on the names themselves, because they are more clear,
certain, and distinct, and readier occur to our thoughts than the
pure ideas ; and eo we make use of these words instead of the
ideas themselves, even when we would meditate and reason
within ourselves, and make tacit mental propositions. In sub-
stances, as has been already noticed, this is occasioned by the im-
perfection of our ideas ; we making the name stand for the real
essence, of which we have no idea at all. In modes, it is occa-
sioned by the great number of simple ideas that go to the
making them up. For many of them being compounded, the
name occurs much easier than the complex idea itself, which
requires time and attention to be recollected, and exactly re-
presented to the mind, even in those men who have formerly
been at the pains to do it ; and is utterly impossible to be done
by those, M'ho, though they have ready in their memory the
greatest part of the common words of that language, yet per-
haps never troubled themselves, in all their lives, to consider
what precise ideas the most of them stood for. Some confused
or obscure notions have served their turns ; and many who talk
very much of religion and conscience, of church and faith,
of power and right, of obstructions and humours, melancholy
and choler, would, perhaps, have little left in their thoughts
and meditations, if one should desire them to think only
of the things themselves, and lay by those words, with which
they so often confound others, and not seldom themselves
also.

§. 5. Being nothing hut the joining or separating ideas without
ivords. — But to return to the consideration of truth. We must,
I say, observe two sorts of propositions that we are capable of
making.

First, Mental, wherein the ideas in our understandings are
without the use of words put together or separated by the mind,
perceiving or judging of their agreement or disagreement.

Secondly, Verbal propositions, which are words, the signs of
our ideas put together or separated in affirmative or negative
sentences. By which way of affirming or denying these signs
made by sounds, are, as it were, put together or separated one

C/i. 5. TRUTH IN GENERAL. 503

from another. So that proposition consists in joining or sepa-
ratino; sij^ns, and truth consists in the puttino; together or se-
parating those signs, according as the things which they stand
for, agree or disagree.

§. 6. When menial propositions contain real truth, and when
verbal. — Every one's experience will satisfy him, that the mind,
either by perceiving or supposing the agreement or disagree-
ment of any of its ideas, does tacitly within itself put them
into a kind of proposition affirmative or negative, which I have
endeavoured to express by the terms putting together and sepa-
rating. But this action of the mind, which is so familiar to
every thinking and reasoning man, is easier to be conceived by
reflecting on what passes in us, when we affirm or deny, than to
be explained by words. When a man has in his head the idea
of two lines, viz., the side and diagonal of a square, whereof the
diagonal is an inch long, he may have the idea also of the divi-
sion of that line, into a certain number of equal parts ; v. g. into
five, ten, an hundred, a thousanth, or any other number, and may
have the idea of that inch line, being divisible, or not divisible,
into such equal parts, as a certain number of them will be equal
to the side line. Now, whenever he perceives, believes, or sup-
poses such a kind of divisibility "to agree or disagree to his idea
of that line, he, as it were, joins or separates those two ideas,
viz., the idea of that line, and the idea of that kind of divisi-
bility, and so makes a mental proposition, which is true or false,
according as such a kind of divisibility, a divisibility into such
aliquot parts, does really agree to that line or no. When ideas
are so put together, or separated in the mind, as they, or the
things they stand for, do agree or not, that is, as I may call it,
mental truth. But truth of words is something more, and that
is the affirming or denying of words one of anothei,as the ideas
they stand for, agree or disagree : and this again is two-fold ;
either purely verbal and trifling, which I shall speak of, ch. 8,
or real and instructive ; which is the object of that real know-
ledge which we have spoken of already.

§. 7. Objection against verbal truth, that thus it may all be
chimerical. — But here again will be apt to occur the same doubt
about truth, that did about knowledge ; and it will be objected,
that if truth be nothing but the joining or separating of words
in propositions, as the ideas they stand for agree, or disagree, in
men's minds, the knowledo;e of truth is not so valuable a thing
as it is taken to be ; nor worth the pains and time men employ
in the search of it ; since, by this account, it amounts to no
more than the conformity of words to the chimeras of men's
brains. Wlio kiujws not v>hat odd notions many men's heads

K K 4

504 TRUTH IN GENERAL. Book 4.

are filled with, and what strange ideas all men's brains are

capable of? but if we rest here, we know the truth of nothing

by this rule, but of the visionary words in our own imaginations ;

nor have other truth but what as much concerns harpies and

centaurs, as men and horses. For those, and the like, may be

ideas in our heads, and have their agreement and disagreement

there, as well as the ideas of real beings, and so have as true

propositions made about them. And it will be altogether as

true a proposition, to say all centaurs are animals, as that all

men are animals ; and the certainty of one as great as the

other. For in both the propositions, the words are put together

according to the agreement of Uie ideas in our minds ; and the

agreement of the idea of animal with that of centaur, is as clear

and visible to the mind, as the agreement of the idea of animal

with that of man : and so these two propositions are equally

true, equally certain. But of what use is all such truth to us ?

§. 8. Answered, real truth is about ideas agreeing to tilings. —
Though what has been said in the foregoing chapter, to dis-
tinguish real from imaginary knowledge, might suffice here, in
answer to this doubt, to distinguish real truth from chimerical,
or (if you please) barely nominal, they depending both on the
same foundation ; yet it may not be amiss here again to coi^-
sider, that though our words signify nothing but our ideas, yet
being designed by them to signify things, the truth they con-
tain, when put into propositions, will be only verbal, when they
stand for ideas in tbe mind, that have not an agreement with
the reality of things. And, therefore, truth, as well as know-
ledge, may well come under the distinction of verbal and real ;
that being only verbal truth, wherein terms are joined according
to the agreement or disagreement of the ideas they stand for,
without regarding whether our ideas are such as really have, or
are capable of having, an existence in nature. But then it is
they contain real truth, when these signs are joined, as our ideas
agree ; and when our ideas are such as we know are capable of
having an existence in nature ; which in substances we cannot
know, but by knowing that such have existed.

§. 9. Falsehood is the joining of names other ivise than their
ideas agree. — ^Trutli is the marking down in words, the agree-
ment or disagreement of ideas as it is. Falsehood is the
marking down in words, the agreement or disagreement of ideas
otherwise than it is. And so far as these ideas, thus marked by
sounds, agree to their archetypes, so far only is truth real.
The knowledge of this truth consists in knowing what ideas the
words stand for, and the perception of the agreement or dis-
agreement of those ideas, according as it is marked by those
words.

Ch.G. UNIVERSAL PROPOSITIONS. 505

§. 10. General propositions to he treated of more at large. —
But because words are looked on as the great conduits of truth
and knovvled^^e, and that in conveying and receiving of truth,
and commonly in reasoning about it, we make use of words and
propositions, I shall more at large enquire, wherein the certainty
of real truths, contained in propositions, consists, and where it
is to be had ; and endeavour to show in what sort of universal
propositions we are capable of being certain of their real truth
or falsehood.

I shall begin with general propositions, as those which most
employ our thoughts, and exercise our contemplation. General
truths are most looked after by the mind, as those that most
enlarge our knowledge ; and by their comprehensiveness, satis-
fying us at once of many particulars, enlarge our view, and
shorten our way to knowledge.

§. 11. Moral and metaphysical truth. — Besides truth, taken
in the strict sense before-mentioned, there are other sorts of
truths ; as. First, moral truth, which is speaking of things
according to the persuasion of our own minds, though the pro-
position we speak agree not to the reality of things. Sf.condly,
Metaphysical truth, which is nothing but the real existence of
things, conformable to the ideas to which we have annexed their
names. This, thou";h it seems to consist in the very beinos of
things, yet when considered a little nearly, will appear to in-
clude a tacit proposition, whereby the mind joins that particular
thing to the idea it had before settled with a name to it. But
these considerations of truth, either having been before taken
notice of, or not being much to our present purpose, it may suf-
fice here only to have mentioned them.

CHAPTER VI.

OF UNIVERSAL P RO PCS ITIO N S , TH KI R TR UT H A N I) C F, RTAI N TY.

§. 1. Treating/ of words necessari/ to knowledge. — Though
the examining and judging of ideas by themselves, their names
being quite laid aside, be the best and surest way to clear and
distinct knowledge ; yet through the prevailing custom of using
sounds for ideas, I think it is very seldom practised. Every one
may observe how common it is for names to be made use of,
Instead of the ideas themselves, even when men think and
reason within their ov»'n breasts ; especially if the ideas be very
complex, and made up of a great -collection of simple ones.
This makes the consideration of words and propositions so

50G UNIVERSAL PROPOSITIONS, Book A.

necessary a part of the treatise of knowledge, that it is very
liard to speak intelligibly of the one, witliout explaining the
other.

§. 2. General truths hardhj to he understood, hut in veihal
propositions. — All the knowledge we have, being only of parti-
cular or general truths, it is evident that whatever may be done
in the former of these, the latter, which is that which with
reason is most sought after, can never be well made known, and
is very seldom apprehended, but as conceived and expressed in
words. It is not, therefore, out of our way, in the examination
of our knowledge, to enquire into the truth and certainty of
universal propositions.

§. 3. Certainty, ttvo-fold, of truth and of knowledge. — But
that we may not be misled in this case, by that which is the
danger every where, I mean by the doubtfulness of terms, it is
fit to observe, that certainty is two-fold ; certainty of truth, and
certainty of knowledge. Certainty of truth is, when words
are so put together in propositions, as exactly to express the
agreement or disagreement of the ideas they stand for, as really
it is. Certainty of knowledge, is to perceive the agreement or
disagreement of ideas, as expressed in any proposition. This
we usually call knowing, or being certain of the truth of any
proposition.

§. 4. No proposition can he known to he true, where the essence
of each species mentioned is not known. — Now because we cannot
be certain of the truth of any general proposition, unless we
know the precise bomids and extent of the species its terms
stand for, it is necessary we should know the essence of each
species, which is that which constitutes and bounds it. This,
in all simple ideas and modes, is not hard to do. For in these,
the real and nominal essence being the same ; or, which is all one,
the abstract idea which the general term stands for, being the
sole essence and boundary that is or can be supposed of the
species, there can be no doubt how far the species extends, or
what things are comprehended under each term ; which, it is
evident, are all that have an exact conformity with the idea it
stands for, and no other. But in substances, wherein a real
essence distinct from the nominal, is supposed to constitute,
determine, and bound the species, the extent of the general word is
very uncertain ; because not knowing this real essence, we cannot
know what is, or what is not, of that species, and consequently
what may, or may not, with certainty be affirmed of it. And
thus speaking of a man, or gold, or any other species of natural
substances, as supposed couvtituted by a precise and real essence,
which nature regularly imparts to every individual of that kind.

Ch.G. THEIR TRUTH AND CERTAINTY. 607

whereby it is made to be of that species, we cannot be certain
of the truth of any affirmation or negation made of it. For
man, or gold, taken in tliis sense, and used for species of things,
constituted by real essences, different from the complex idea in
the mind of the speaker, stand for we know not what ; and the
extent of these species, with such boundaries, are so unknown
and undetermined, that it is impossible, with any certainty, to
affirm, that all men are rational, or that all gold is yellow. But
where the nominal essence is kept to, as the boundary of each
species, and men extend the application of any general term no
farther than to the particular things in which the complex idea
it stands for is to be found, there they are in no danger to mis-
take the bounds of each species, nor can be in doubt, on this
account, whether any proposition be true, or no. I have chosen
to explain this uncertainty of propositions in this scholastic
way, and have made use of the terms of essences and species,
on purpose to show the absurdity and inconvenience there is to
think of them, as of any other sort of realities, than barely ab-
stract ideas with names to them. To suppose that the species
of things are any thing but the sorting of them under general
names, according as they agree to several abstract ideas, of
which we make those names the signs, is to confound truth, and
introduce uncertainty into all general propositions that can be
made about them. Though, therefore, these things might,
to people not possessed with scholastic learning, be treated
©f in a better and clearer way ; yet those wrong notions of
essences or species, having got root in most people's minds, who
have received any tincture from the learning which has prevailed
in this part of the world, are to be discovered and removed, to
make way for that use of words which should convey certainty
with it.

§. 5. This more particularhj concerns substances. — The names
of substances, then, whenever made to stand for species, which
are supposed to be constituted by real essences which we know
not, are not capable to convey certainty to the understanding;
of the truth of general propositions made up of such terras, we
cannot be sure. The reason whereof is plain. For how can we
be sure that this or that quality is in gold, when we know not
what is or is not gold ? Since in this way of speaking, nothing
is gold, but what partakes of an essence, which we not knowing,
cannot know where it is, or is not, and so cannot be sure that
any parcel of matter in the world, is, or is not, in this sense gold ;
being incurably ignorant, whether it has, or has not, that which
makes any thing to be called gold, i. e. that real essence of gold
whereof we have no idea at all. This being as impossible for

508 UNIVERSAL PROPOSITIONS, Book 4

us to know, as it is for a blind man to tell in what flower the
colour of a pansie is, or is not, to be found, whilst he has no
i;lea of the colour of a pansie at all. Or, if we could (which
is impossible) certainly know where a real essence, which we
know not, is; v. g. in what parcels of matter the real essence of
gold is ; yet could we not be sure, that this or that quality could
with truth be affirmed of gold ; since it is impossible for us to
know, that tliis or that quality or idea has a necessary connexion
with a real essence, of which we have no idea at all, whatever
species that supposed real essence may be imagined to con-
stitute.

§. 6. The truth of feio universal propositions concerning sub-
stances, is to be knoimi. — On the other side, the names of sub-
stances, when made use of as they should be, for the ideas men
have in their minds, though they carry a clear and determinate
signification with them, will not yet serve us to make many uni-
versal propositions, of whose truth we can be certain. Not
because in this use of them we are uncertain what things are
signified by them, but because the complex ideas they stand for,
are such combinations of simple ones, as carry not with them
any discoverable connexion or repugnancy, but with a very few
other ideas.

§. 7. Because co-existence of ideas in few cases is to he known.
— The complex ideas that our names of the species of sub-
stances properly stand for, are collections of such qualities as
have been observed to co-exist in an unknown substratum, which
we call substance ; but what other qualities necessarily co-exist
with such combinations, we cannot certainly know, unless we
can discover their natural dependence ; which, in their primary
qualities, we can go but a very little way in ; and in all their
secondary qualities, we can discover no connexion at all for the
reasons mentioned, ch. iii. ; viz., 1, Because we know not the
real constitutions of substances, on which each secondary
quality particularly depends. 2, Did we know that, it would
serve us only for experimental (not universal) knowledge ; and
reach with certainty no farther than that bare instance ; because
our understandings can discover no conceivable connexion
between any secondary quality, and any modification whatsoever
of any of the primary ones. And therefore there are very few
general propositions to be made concerning substances, which
can carry 'With them undoubted certainty.

§. 8. Instance in gold. — All gold is fixed, is a proposition
whose truth we cannot be certain of, how universally soever it
be believed. For if, according to the useless imagination of the
schools, any one supposes the term gold to stand for a species

Ch. G. THEIR TRUTH AND CERTAINTY. 509

of things S€t out by nature, by a real essence belonging to it, it
is evident he knows not what particular substances are of that
species ; and so cannot, with certainty, affirm any thing univer-
sally of gold. But if he makes gold stand for a species, deter-
mined by its nominal essence, let the nominal essence, for
example, be the complex idea of a body, of a certain yellow
colour, malleable, fusible, and heavier than any other known ;
in this proper use of the word gold, there is no difficulty to
know what is, or is not, gold. But yet no other quality can with
certainty be universally affirmed or denied of gold, but what
hath a discoverable connexion or inconsistency with that nominal
essence. Fixedness, for example, having no necessary connexion,
that we can discover, with the colour, weight, or any other simple
idea of our complex one, or with the whole combination to-
gether ; it is impossible that we should certainly know the truth
of this proposition, that all gold is fixed.

§. 9. As there is no discoverable connexion between fixed-
ness, and the colour, weight, and other simple ideas of that
nominal essence of gold ; so if we make our complex idea of
gold, a body yellow, fusible, ductile, weighty, and fixed, we
shall be at the same uncertainty concerning solubility in aqua
regia ; and for the same reason : since we can never, from con-
sideration of the ideas themselves, with certainty affirm or deny,
of a body, whose complex idea is made up of yellow, very
weighty, ductile, fusible, and fixed, that it is soluble in aqua
regia, and so on of the rest of its qualities. I would gladly
meet with one general affirmation, . concerning any quality of
gold, that any one can certainly know is true. It wnll, no
doubt, be presently objected, is not this an universal, certain
proposition, " all gold is malleable ?" To which I answer, it is a
very certain proposition, if malleableness be a part of the com-
plex idea the word gold stands for. But then here is nothing
affirmed of gold, but that that sound stands for an idea in which
malleableness is contained : and such a sort of truth and cer-
tainty as this, it is, to say a, centaur is four-footed. But if mal-
leableness makes not a part of the specific essence the name
gold stands for, it is plain, " all gold is malleable," is not a certain
proposition. Because let the complex idea of gold, be made up
of which soever of its other qualities you please, malleableness
will not appear to depend on that complex idea, nor follow from
any simple one contained in it. The connexion that malleable-
ness has (if it has any) with those other qualities, being only by
the intervention of the real constitution of its insensible parts,
which since we know not, it is impossible w« should perceive

510 UNIVERSAL PROPOSITIONS, Book 4.

that connexion, unless we could discover that which ties them
tog-ether.

§. 10. As far as any such co-existence can he knovm, so far
universal propositions may he certain. But this will go hut a
little way, hecause— The more, indeed, of these co-existino^
qualities we unite into one complex idea, under one name, tlie
more precise and determinate we make the signification of that
word : but yet never make it thereby more capable of universal
certainty, in respect of other qualities, not contained in our com-
plex idea; since we perceive not their connexion or dependence
on one another; being ignorant both of that real constitution in
which they are all founded, and also how they flow from it.
For the chief part of our knowledge concerning substances, is
not, as in other things, barely of the relation of two ideas that
may exist separately ; but it is of the necessary connexion and
co-existence of several distinct ideas in the same subject, or of
their repugnances so to co-exist. Could we begin at the other
end, and discover what it was, wherein that colour consisted,
what made a body lighter or heavier, what texture of parts made
it malleable, fusible, and fixed, and fit to be dissolved in this sort
of liquor, and not in another ; if (I say) we had such an idea as
this of bodies, and could perceive wherein all sensible qualities
originally consist, and how they are produced ; we might frame
such abstract ideas of them, as would furnish us with matter of
more general knowledge, and enable us to make universal pro-
positions, that should carry general truth and certainty with
them. But whilst our complex ideas of the sorts of substances,
are so remote from that internal real constitution, on which their
sensible qualities depend, and are made up of nothing but an
imperfect collection of those apparent qualities our senses can
discover, there can be very few general propositions concerning
substances, of whose -real truth we can be certainly assured ;
since there are but few simple ideas, of whose connexion and
necessary co-existence we can have certain and undoubted
knowledge. I imagine, amongst all the secondary qualities of
substances, and the powers relating to them, there cannot any
two be named, whose necessary co-existence, or repugnance to
co-exist, can certainly be known, unless in those of the same
sense, which necessarily exclude one another, as I have else-
where shown. No one, I think, by the colour that is in any
body, can certainly know what smell, taste, sound, or tangible
qualities it has, nor what alterations it is capable to make or
receive, on, or from, other bodies. The same may be said of the
sound or taste, &c. Our specific names of substances standing
for any collections of such ideas, it is not to be wondered, that

Ch. G. TIIFJR TRUTH AND CERTAINTY. 511

we cnn, with them, make very few general propositions of un-
doubted real certainty. But yet, so far as any complex idea, of
any sort of substances, contains in it any simple idea, whose
necessary co-existence with any other may be discovered, so
far universal propositions may with certainty be made concerning
it ; v. g. could any one discover a necessary connexion between
malleableness, and the colour or weight of gold, or any other
nart of the complex idea, s-ignified by that name, he might
make a certain universal proposition concerning gold in this
respect; and the real truth of this proposition, " that all gold is
malleable," would be as certain as of this, " the three angles of
all right-lined triangles, are equal to two right ones."

^. 11. The qualities which make our complex idea of suh-
stances, depend mostly on external, remote, and unperceived
causes. — Had we such ideas of substances, as to know what
real constitutions produce those sensible qualities we find in
them, and how those qualities flowed from thence, we could, by
the specific ideas of their real essences in our own minds, more
certainly find out their properties, and discover what qualities
they had, or had not, than we can now by our senses ; and to
know the properties of gold, it would be no mo,re necessary that
gold should exist, and that we should make experiments upon
it, than it is necessary for the knowing the properties of a
triangle, that a triangle should exist in any matter ; the idea in
our minds would serve for the one, as well as the other.
But we are so far from being admitted into the secrets of nature,
that we scarce so much as ever approach the first entrance
towards them. For we are wont to consider the substances we meet
with, each of them as an entire thing by itself, having all its
qualities in itself, and independent of other things ; over-looking,
for the most part, the operations of those invisible fluids they
are encompassed with ; and upon whose motions and operations
depend the greatest part of those qualities which are taken
notice of in them, and are made by us the inherent marks of
distinction, whereby we know and denominate them. Put a
piece of gold any where by itself, separate from the reach and
influence of all other bodies, it will immediately lose all its
colour and weight, and, perhaps, malleableness too; which, for
aught I know, would be changed into a perfect friability.
Water, in which to us fluidity is an essential quality, left to
itself, would cease to be fluid. But if inanimate bodies owe so
much of their present state to other bodies without them, that
they would not be what they appear to us, were those bodies
that environ them removed, it is yet more so in vegetables,
wliich are nourished, grow, and produce leaves, flowers, and

512 UNIVERSAL PROPOSITIONS, Book 4.

seeds, in a constant succession. And if we look a little
nearer into the state of animals, we shall find, that their
dependance, as to life, motion, and the most considerable
qualities to be observed in them, is so wholly on extrinsical
causes and qualities of other bodies, that make no part of
them, that they cannot subsist a moment without them ; though
yet those bodies on which they depend, are little taken
notice of, and make no. part of the complex ideas we frame
of those animals. Take the air but a minute from the greatest
part of living creatures, and they presently lose sense, life,
and motion. This the necessity of breathing has forced into
our knowledge. But how many other extrinsical, and pos-
sibly very remote bodies, do the springs of these admirable
machines depend on, which are not vulgarly observed, or so
much as thoujjht on ; and how many are there, which the
severest enquiiy can never discover ? The inhabitants of this
spot of the universe, though removed so many millions of
miles from the sun, yet depend so much on the duly tempered
motion of particles coming from, or agitated by it, that were
this earth removed but a small part of that distance out of
its present situation, and placed a little farther or nearer that
source of heat, it is more than probable that the greatest part
of the animals in it would immediately perish ; since we find
them so often destroyed by an excess or defect of the sun's
warmth, which an accidental position, in some parts of this,
our little globe, exposes them to. The qualities observed in
a loadstone, must needs have their source far beyond the con-
fines of that body ; and the ravage made often on several sorts
of animals, by invisible causes, the certain death (as we are
told) of some of them, by barely passing the line, or, as it
is certain, of others, by being removed into a neighbouring
country, evidently show, that the concurrence and operations of
several bodies, with which they are seldom thought to have
any thing to do, is absolutely necessary to make them be what
they appear to us, and to preserve those qualities by which we
know and distinguish them. We are then quite out of the
way, when we think that things contain within themselves the
qualities that appear to us in them ; and we in vain search for
that constitution within the body of a fly, or an elephant,
upon v/hich depend those qualities and powers we observe
in them. For which, perhaps, to understand them aright,
we ought to look, not only beyond this our earth and at-
mosphere, but even beyond the sun, or remotest star our eyes
have yet discovered. For how much the being and opera-
tion of particular substances in this our globe, depends on

CA. 6. THEIR TRUTH AND CKllTAINTY. 613

causes utterly beyond our view, is impossible for us to deter-
mine. We see and perceive some of the motions, and "Tosser
operations, of things here about us ; but whence the streams
come that keep all these curious machines in motion and
repair, how conveyed and modified, is beyond our notice
and apprehension ; and the great parts and wheels, as I may
so say, of this stupendous structure of the universe, may,
for aught we know, have such a connexion and dependance
in their influences and operations one upon another, that,
perhaps, things in this, our mansion, would put on quite
another face, and cease to be what they are, if some one of
the stars or great bodies incomprehensibly remote from us,
should cease to be or move as it does. This is certain, thino-s
however absolute and entire they seem in themselves, are but
retainers to other parts of nature, for that which they are
most taken notice of by us. Their observable qualities,
actions, and powers, are owing to something without them ;
and there is not so complete and perfect a part that we
know of nature, which does not owe the being it has, and
the excellencies of it, to its neighbours ; and we must not
confine our thoughts within the surface of any body, but look
a great deal farther, to comprehend perfectly those qualities
that are in it.

§. 12. If this be so, it is not to be wondered, that we have
very imperfect ideas of substances ; and that the real essences
on which depend their properties and operations, are unknown to
us. We cannot discover so much as that size, fioure, and tex-
ture, of their minute and active parts, which is really in them •
much less the different motions and impulses made in and upon
them by bodies from without, upon which depends, and by
which is formed, the greatest and most remarkable part of those
qualities we observe in them, and of which our complex ideas
of them are made up. This consideration alone is enouo-h to put
an end to all our hopes of ever having the ideas of their real
essences ; which whilst we want, the nominal essences we make
use of instead of them, will be able to furnish us but very
sparingly with any general knowledge, or universal propositions
capable of real certainty.

§. 13. Judgment may reach farther, hut that is not knoioledge-
— We are not, therefore, to wonder, if certainty be to be found
in very few general propositions made concernino- substances •
our knowledge of their qualities and properties go very seldom
farther than our senses reach and inform us. Possibly inqui-
sitive and observing men may, by strength of judgment, pene-
trate farther, and on probabilities taken from wary observation

L L

oU UNIVERSAL PROPOSITIONS, Book 4.

and hints well laid together, often guess right at what expe-
rience has not yet discovered to them. But this is but guessing
still; it amounts only to opinion, and has not that certainty
which is requisite to knowledge. For all general knowledge
lies only in our own thoughts, and consists barely in the contem-
plation of our own abstract ideas. Wherever we perceive any
agreement or disagreement amongst them, there we have general
knowledge; and by putting the names of those ideas together
accordingly in propositions, can with certainty pronounce general
truths. But because the abstract ideas of substances, for which
their specific names stand, whenever they have any distinct
and determinate sigcnification. have a discoverable connexion
or inconsistency with but a very few other ideas : the cer-
tainty of universal propositions concerning substances, is very
narrow and scanty in that part which is our principal enquiry
concerning- them; and there are scarce any of the names of
substances, let the idea it is applied to be what it will, of
which we can generally, and with certainty, pronounce, that it
has, or has not, this or that other quality belonging to it, and
constantly co-existing or inconsistent with that idea, wherever
it is to be found.

§. 14. What is requisite for our knowledge of substances. —
Before we can have any tolerable knowledge of this kind, we
must first know what changes the primary qualities of one body
do regularly produce in the primary qualities of another, and
how. Secondly, We must know what primary qualities of any
body, produce certain sensations or ideas in us. This is, in truth,
no less than to know all the effects of matter, under its divers
modifications of bulk, figure, cohesion of parts, motion, and
rest. Which, I think, every body will allow, is utterly impos-
sible to be known by us, without revelation. Now if it were
revealed to us, what sort of figure, bulk, and motion of cor-
puscles, would produce in us the sensation of a yellow colour,
and what sort of figure, bulk, and texture of parts in the super-
ficies of any body, were fit to give such corpuscles their due
motion to produce that colour ; would that be enough to make
universal propositions with certainty, concerning the several
sorts of them, unless we had faculties acute enough to perceive
the precise bulk, figure, texture, and motion of bodies in those
minute parts, by which they operate on our senses, so that we
might by those frame our abstract ideas of them ? I have men-
tioned here only corporeal substances, whose operations seem to
lie more level to our understandings ; for as to the operations of
spirits, both their thinking and moving of bodies, we, at first
sight, find ourselves at a loss ; though, perhaps, when we have

Ch.6. THEIR TRUTH AND CERTAINTY. 515

applied our thoughts a little nearer to the consideration of
bodies, and their operations, and examined how far our notions,
even in these, reach, with any clearness, beyond sensible matter
of fact, we shall be bound to confess, that even in these too, our
discoveries amount to very little beyond perfect ignorance and
incapacity.

§. 15. Whilst our ideas of substances contain not their real
constitutions, we can viake hut few general certain propositions
concerning thevi. — This is evident, the abstract complex ideas of
substances, for which their general names stand, not compre-
hending their real constitutions, can afford us very' little uni-
versal certainty. Because our ideas of them are not made
up of that on which those qualities we observe in them, and
would inform ourselves about, do depend, or with which they
have any certain connexion ; v. g. let the ideas to which we
give the name man, be, as it commonly is, a body of the ordi-
nary shape, with sense, voluntary motion, and reason joined to
it. This being the abstract idea, and consequently the essence
of our species man, we can make but very few general certain
propositions concerning man, standing for such an idea. Be-
cause not knowing the real constitution on which sensation,
power of motion, and reasoning, with that peculiar shape, depend,
and whereby they are united together in the same subject, there
are very few other qualities, with which we can perceive them to
have a necessary connexion; and, therefore, we cannot, with cer-
tainty, affirm, that all men sleep by intervals ; that no man can
be nourished by wood or stones ; that all men will be poisoned
by hemlock ; because these ideas have no connexion nor repug-
nancy with this our nominal essence of man, with this abstract
idea tliat name stands for. We must in these, and the like, ap-
peal to trial in particular subjects, which can reach but a liljtle
way. We must content ourselves with probability in the rest :
but can have no general certainty, whilst our specific idea
of man contains not that real constitution, which is the root
wherein all his inseparable qualities are united, and from whence
they flow. Whilst our idea the word man stands for, is only an
imperfect collection of some sensible qualities and powers
in him, there is no discernible connexion or repugnance between
our specific idea, and the operation of either the parts of
hemlock or stones, upon his constitution. There are animals
that safely eat hemlock, and others that are nourished by
wood and stones ; but as long as we want ideas of those real
constitutions of different sorts of animals, whereon these, and
the like, qualities and powers depend, we must not hope to reach
certainty in universal propositions concerning them. Those

L L 2

•^H5 MAXIMS. Booh 4.

few ideas only, which have a discernible connexion with our
nominal essence, or any part of it, can afford us such propo-
sitions. But these are so few, and of so little moment, that we
may justly look on our certain general knowledge of substances,
as almost none at all.

§. 16. Wherein lies the general certainty of jyropositions. — To
conclude : general propositions, of what kind soever, are then
only capable of certainty, when the terms used in them stand for
such ideas, whose agreement or disagreement, as there expressed,
is capable to be discovered by us. And we are then certain of
their truth or falsehood, when we perceive the ideas the terms
stand for, to agree or not agree, according as they are affirmed
or denied one of another. Whence we may take notice, that
general certainty is never to be found but in our ideas. When-
ever we go to seek it elsewhere in experiment or observations
without us, our knowledge goes not beyond particulars. It is
the contemplation of our own abstract ideas, that alone is able
to afford us general knowledge.

CHAPTER VII.

OF MAXIMS.

§, 1. Theij are self-evident. — There are a sort of propositions,
which under the name of maxims and axioms, have passed for
principles of science ; and because they are self-evident, have
been supposed innate, although nobody (that I know) ever
went about to show the reason and foundation of their clearness
or cogency. It may, however, be worth while to enquire into
the reason of their evidence, and see whether it be peculiar to
them alone, and also examine how far they influence and govern
our other knowledge.

§. 2. Wherein that self-evidence consists. — Knowledge, as
has been shown, consists in the perception of the agreement or
disagreement of ideas : now, where that agreement or disagree-
ment is perceived immediately by itself, without the intervention
or help of any other, there our knowledge is self-evident. This
will appear to be so to any one, who will but consider any of
those propositions, which, without any proof, he assents to at
first sight ; for in all of them he will find, that the reason of
his assent, is from that agreement or disagreement which
the mind, by an immediate comparing them, finds in those
ideas answering the affirmation or negation in the proposition.

§. 3. Self-evidence not peculiar to received axioms. — This
being so, in the next place let us consider, whether this self-

Ch. 7. MAXIMS. 517

evidence be peculiar only to those propositions, which commonly
pass under the name of maxims, and have the dignity of axioms
allowed them. And here it is plain, that several other truths,
not allowed to be axioms, partake equally with them in this self-
evidence. This we shall see, if we go over these several sorts of
agreement or disagreement of ideas, which I have above-men-
tioned, viz., identity, relation, co-existence, and real existence ;
which will discover to us, that not only those few propositions,
which have had the credit of maxims, are self-evident, but a
great many, even almost an infinite number, of other propositions
are such.

§. 4. First, as to identity and diverdty, all propositions are
equally self-evident. — For, First, the immediate perception of the
agreement or disagreement of identity, being founded in the
mind's having distinct ideas, this affords us as many self-evi-
dent propositions, as we have distinct ideas. Every one that has
any knowledge at all, has, as the foundation of it, various and
distinct ideas ; and it is the first act of the mind (without which,
it can never be capable of any knowledge) to know every one
of its ideas by itself, and distinguish it from others. Every
one finds in himself, that he knows the ideas he has •
that he knows also, when any one is in his understanding,
and what it is ; and that when more than one are there, he
knows them distinctly and confusedly one from another.
Which always being so (it being impossible but j:hat he should
perceive what he perceives), he can never be in doubt when any
idea is in his mind, that it is there, and is that idea it is ; and
that two distinct ideas, when they are in his mind, are there,
and are not one and the same idea. So that all such affirmations
and negations, are made vi'ithout any possibility of doubt, un-
certainty, or hesitation, and must necessarily be assented to, as
soon as understood ; that is, as soon as we have in our minds,
determined ideas, which the terms in the proposition stand for.
And, therefore, whenever the mmd with attention considers any
proposition, so as to perceive the two ideas signified by the
terms, and affirmed or denied one of another, to be the same
or different, it is presently and infallibly certain of the truth of
such a proposition, and this equally, whether these proposi-
tions be in terms standing for more general ideas, or such as
are less so, v. g. whether the general idea of being, be affirmed
of itself, as in this proposition, "whatsoever is, is;" or a more
particular idea be affirmed of itself, as a man is a man, or
whatsoever is white, is white. Or whether the idea of being, in
general be denied of not being, which is the only (if I may
so call it, idea differeot from it, as in this other proposition, "It

L L 3

S18 MAXIMS. Book 4.

is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be;" or any
idea of any particular being be denied of another different from
it ; as a man is not a horse ; red is not blue. The difference of
the ideas, as soon as the terms are understood, makes the
truth of the proposition presently visible, and that with an
equal certainty and easiness in the less, as well as the more,
general propositions, and all for the same reason, viz., because
the mind perceives in any ideas that it has, the same ideas
to be the same with itself; and two different ideas to be different,
and not the same. And this it is equally certain of, whether
these ideas be more or less general, abstract, and comprehen-
sive. It is not therefore alone to these two general propositions,
" Whatsoever is, is;" and " It is impossible for the same thing
to be, and not to be ;" that this sort of self-evidence belongs to any
peculiar right. The perception of being, or not being, belongs
no more to these vague ideas, signified by the terms whatsoever
and thing, than it does to any other ideas. These two general
maxims, amounting to no more, in short, but this, that the same
is the same, and same is not different, are truths known in more
particular instances, as well as in these general maxims, and
known also in particular instances, before these general maxims
are ever thought on, and draw all their force from the discern-
ment of the mind employed about particular ideas. There is
nothing more visible, than that the mind, without the help of
any proof or reflection on either of these general propositions,
perceives so clearly, and knows so certainly, that " the idea of
white is the idea of white, and not the idea of blue ;" and that
" the idea of white, when it is in the mind, is there, and is not
absent;" that the consideration of these axioms can add nothing
to the evidence or certainty of its knowledge. Just so it is (as
every one may experiment in himself) in all the ideas a man has
in his mind ; he knows each to be itself, and not to be another ;
and to be in his mind, and not away, when it is there, with
a certainty that cannot be greater ; and, therefore, the truth of
no general proposition can be known with a greater certainty,
nor add any thing to this. So that in respect of identity,
our intuitive knowledge reaches as far as our ideas. And we
are capable of making as many self-evident propositions, as we
have names for distinct ideas. And I appeal to every one's own
mind, whether this proposition, " A circle, is a circle," be not
as self-evident a proposition, as that consisting of more general
terms, "Whatsoever, is, is ;" and again, whether this proposition,
" Blue is not red," be not a proposition that the mind can no
more doubt of, as soon as it understands the words, than it
does of that axiom, " It is impossible for the same thing to be,
and not to be ;" and so of all the like.

Ch. 7. MAXIMS. 519

§. 5. Secojidly, i'h co-existence, ive have few self-evident pro-
positions.— Secondly, As to co-existence, or such necessary con-
nexion between two ideas, that in the subject where one of them
is sujDposed, there the other must certainly be also ; of such
agreement or disagreement as this, the mind has an immediate
perception but in very few of them ; and therefore in this sort
we have but very little intuitive knowledge. Nor are there to
be found very many propositions that are self-evident, though
some there are ; v. g. the idea of filling a place equal to the
contents of its superficies, being annexed to our idea of body, I
think it is a self-evident proposition, " that two bodies cannot
be in the same place."

§. 6. Thirdly, in other relations we may have. — Thirdly, As
to the relation of modes, mathematicians have framed many
axioms concerning that one relation of equality. As, " equals
taken from equals, the remainder will be equal ;" which, with
the rest of that kind, however they are received from maxims by
the mathematicians, and are unquestionable truths; yet, I think,
that any one who considers them, will not find that they have a
clearer self-evidence than these, that " One and one are equal to
two ;" that " If you take from the five fingers of one hand, two,
and from the five fingers of the other hand, two, the remaining
numbers will be equal." These, and a thousand other such pro-
positions, may be found in numbers, which, at the very first
hearing, force the assent, and carry with them an equal, if not
greater, clearness, than those mathematical axioms.

§. 7. Fourthly, concerning real existence, we have none. —
Fourthly, As to real existence, since that has no connexion with
any other of our ideas, but that of ourselves, and of a first being,
we have in that, concerning the real existence of all other
beings, not so much as demonstrative, much less a self-evident,
knowledge ; and, therefore, concerning those there are no
maxims.

§. 8. These axioms do not much influence our other knowledge.
— In the next place, let us consider what influence these re-
ceived maxims have upon the other parts of our knowledge.
The rules established in the schools, that all reasonings are ex
prcecognitis et prceconcessis, seem to lay the foundation of all
other knowledge in these maxims, and to suppose them to be
prcEcognita ; whereby, I think, are meant these two things ;
First, That these axioms are those truths that are first known to
the mind. And, Secondly, That upon them the other parts of
our knowledge depend.

§. 9. Because they are not the truths we first knew. — First,

L L 4

520 MAXIMS. Book 4.

That they are not the truths first known to the mind, is
evident to experience, as we have shown in another place,
b. 1, c. 2. Who perceives not, that a child certainly knows
that a stranger is not its mother; that its sucking bottle
is not the rod, long before he knows that " It is impossible
for the same thing to be, and not to be?" And how many truths
are there about numbers, which it is obvious to observe, that the
mind is perfectly acquainted with, and fully convinced of, before
it ever thought on these general maxims, to which mathemati-
cians, in their areuinors, do sometimes refer them ? Whereof
the reason is very plain ; for that which makes the mind assent
to such propositions, being nothing else but the perception it has
of the agreement or disagreement of its ideas, according as it
finds them affirmed or denied one of another, in words it
understands; and every idea being known to be what it is,
and every two distinct ideas being known not to be the same,
it must necessarily follow, that such self-evident truths must
be first known, which consist of ideas that are first in the
mind ; and the ideas first in the mind, it is evident, are those
of particular things, from whence, by slow degrees, the un-
derstanding proceeds to some few general ones ; which being
taken from the ordinary and familiar objects of sense, are
settled in the mind, with general names to them. Thus parti-
cular ideas are first received and distinguished, and so knowledge
got about them ; and next to them, the less general or specific,
which are next to particular; for abstract ideas are not so
obvious or easy to children, or the yet unexercised mind, as par-
ticular ones. If they seem so to grown men, it is only because
by constant and familiar use they are made so ; for when we
nicely reflect upon them, we shall find, that general ideas are
fictions and contrivances of the mind, that carry difficulty
with them, and do not so easily offer themselves, as we are
apt to imagine. For example, does it not require some pains
and skill to form the general idea of a triangle ? (which is
yet none of the most abstract, comprehensive, and difficult)
for it must be neither oblique nor rectangle, neither equi-
lateral, equicrural, nor scalenon : but all and none of these
at once. In effect, it is something imperfect, that cannot
exist ; an idea wherein some parts of several different and
inconsistent ideas are put together. It is true, the mind, in
this imperfect state, has need of such ideas, and makes all the
haste to them it can, for the conveniency of communication,
and enlargement of knowledge ; to both which it is naturally
very much inclined. But yet one has reason to suspect such
ideas are marks of our imperfection ; at least, this is enough

Ch.l. MAXIMS. 521

to show, that the most abstract and general ideas are not
those that the mind is first and most easily acquainted with, nor
such as its earliest knowledo-e is conversant about.

§. 10. Because on tliem i he other parls of our knoivledge do not
depend. — Secondly, From what has been said, it plainly follows,
that these magnified maxims are not the principles and founda-
tions of all our other knowledge. For if there be a great many
other truths, which have as much self-evidence as they, and a
great many that we know before them, it is impossible they
should be the principles from which we deduce all other truths.
It is impossible to know that " one and two are equal to three,''
but by virtue of this, or some such axiom, viz., " the whole is
equal to all its parts taken together?" Many a one knows that
" one and two are equal to three," without having heard, or
thought on that or any other axiom, by which it might be
proved ; and knows it as certainly as any other man knows that
" the whole is equal to all its parts," or any other maxim, and
all from the same reason of self-evidence ; the equality of those
ideas being as visible and certain to him without that or any
other axiom, as with it, in needing no proof to make it per-
ceived. Nor after the knowledge, " that the whole is equal to
all its parts," does he know that " one and two are equal to
three," better, or more certainly, than he did before. For if
there be any odds in those ideas, the whole and parts are more
obscure, or at least more difficult to be settled in the mind, than
those of " one, two, and three." And, indeed, I think I may
ask these men, who will needs have all knowledge, besides those
general principles themselves, to depend on general, innate, and
self-evident principles ? What principle is requisite to prove,
that " one and one are two," that " two and two are four," that
" three times two are six ?" Which being known without
any proof, do evince, that either all knowledge does not depend
on certain pracognita, or general maxims, called principles,
or else that these are principles ; and if these are to be
counted principles, a great part of numeration will be so. To
which, if we add all the self-evident propositions which may
be made about all our distinct ideas, principles will be almost
infinite, at least innumerable, which men arrive to the knowledge
of at different ages ; and a great many of these innate prin-
ciples, they never come to know all their lives. But whether
they come in view of the mind earlier or later, this is true of
them, that they are all known by their native evidence, are
wholly independent, receive no light, nor are capable of any
proof one from another ; much less the more particular from
the more general, or the more simple from the more compounded :

522 MAXIMS. Book '^.

the more simple, and less abstract, being the most familiar, and
the easier and earlier apprehended . But whichever be the clearest
ideas, the evidence and certainty of all such propositions is in
this, that a man sees the same idea to be the same idea, and in-
fallibly perceives two different ideas to be different ideas. For
when a man has in his understanding the ideas of one and of
two, the idea of yellow, and the idea of blue, he cannot but
certainly know, that the idea of one is the idea of one, and not
the idea of two ; and that the idea of yellow is the idea of yel-
low, and not the idea of blue. For a man cannot confound the
ideas in his mind, which he has distinct: that would be to have
them confused and distinct at the same time, wdiich is a contra-
diction; and to have none distinct, is to have no use of our
faculties, to have no knowledge at all. And therefore what
idea soever is affirmed of itself, or whatsoever two entire distinct
ideas are denied one of another, the mind cannot but assent to
such a proposition, as infallibly true, as soon as it understands
the terms without hesitation or need of proof, or regarding those
made in more general terms, and called maxims.

§. 11. What use these general maxims have. — What shall we
then say ? Are these general maxims of no use ? By no means ;
though perhaps their use is not that which it is commonly taken
to be. But since doubting in the least of what hath been by
some men ascribed to these maxims, may be apt to be cried out
against, as overturning the foundations of all the sciences, it
may be worth while to consider them, with respect to other
parts of our knowledge, and examine more particularly to what
purposes they serve, and to what not.

1, It is evident, from what has been already said, that they
are of no use to prove or confirm less general self-evident pro-
positions.

2, It is as plain that they are not, nor have been, the founda-
tions whereon any science hath been built. There is, I know,
a great deal of talk, propagated from scholastic men, of sciences
and the maxims on ^Yhich they are built : but it has been my ill
luck, never to meet with any such sciences, much less any one
built upon these two maxims, " what is, is ;" and " it is impossible
for the same thing to be, and not to be." And I would be glad
to be shown where any such science, erected upon these, or any
oth^r, general axioms, is to be found ; and should be obliged to
any one who would lay before me the frame and system of any
science so built on these, or any such like, maxims, that could
not be shown to stand as firm without any consideration of them.
I ask, whether these general maxims have not the same use in
the study of divinity, and in theological questions, that they

Ch. 7. MAXIMS. 3-23

have in other sciences ? They serve here, too, to silence wranglers,
and put an end to dispute. But I think that nobody will there-
fore say, that the Christian religion is built upon these maxims,
or that the knowledge we have of it, is derived from these prin-
ciples. It is from revelation we have received it, and without
revelation, these maxims had never been able to help us to it.
When we find out an idea, by whose intervention we discover
the connexion of two others, this is a revelation from God to
us, by the voice of reason. For we then come to know a truth
that we did not know before. When God declares any truth to
us, this is a revelation to us by the voice of his spirit, and we
are advanced in our knowledge. But in neither of these do we
receive our light or knowledge from maxims. But in the one,
the things themselves afford it, and we see the truth in them by
perceiving their agreement or disagreement. In the other, God
himself atibrds it immediately to us, and we see the truth of
what he says in his unerring veracity.

3, They are not of use to help men forward in the advance-
ment of sciences, or new discoveries of yet unknown truths.
Mr. Newton, in his never enough to be admired book, has de-
monstrated several propositions, which are so many new truths,
before unknown to the world, and are farther advances in ma-
thematical knowledge ; but for the discovery of these, it was not
the general maxims, " what is, is ;" or " the whole is bigger than
a part,*' or the like, that helped him. These were not the clues
that led him into the discovery of the truth and certainty of
those propositions. Nor was it by them that be got the know-
ledge of those demonstrations ; but by finding out intermediate
ideas, that showed the agreement or disagreement of the ideas,
as expressed in the propositions he demonstrated. This is the
greatest exercise and improvement of human understanding in
the enlarging of knowledge, and advancing the sciences ; wherein
they are far enough from receiving any help from the contem-
plation of these, or the like, magnified maxims. Would those
who have this traditional admiration of these propositions, that
they think no step can be made in knowledge without the sup-
port of an axiom, no stone laid in the building of the sciences
without a general maxim, but distinguish between the method
of acquiring knowledge, and of communicating ; between the
method of raising any science, and that of teaching it to
others as far as it is advanced ; they would see that those general
maxims were not the foundations on which the first discoverers
raised their admirable structures, nor the keys that unlocked and
opened those secrets of knowledge. Though afterwards, wlieu
schools were erected, and sciences had their professors to teach

o24 MAXIMS. Book^.

what others had found out, they often made use of maxims, i. e.
laid down certain propositions which were self-evident, or to be re-
ceived for true ; which being settled in the minds of their scholars,
as unquestionable verities, they on occasion made use of, to con-
vince them of truths in particular instances, that were not so
familiar to their minds as those general axioms which had before
been inculcated to them, and carefully settled in their minds.
Though these particular instances, when well reflected on, are no
less self-evident to the understanding, than the general maxims
brought to confirm them ; and it was in those particular instances
that the first discoverer found the truth, without the help of the
general maxims : and so may any one else do, who with attention
considers them.

To come therefore to the use that is made of maxims.

1, They are of use, as has been observed, in the ordinary
methods of teaching sciences as far as they are advanced : but
of little or none in advancing them farther.

2, They are of use in disputes, for the silencing of obstinate
wranglers, and bringing those contests to some conclusion.
Whether a need of them to that end, came not in, in the manner
following, I crave leave to enquire. The schools having made
disputation the touchstone of men's abilities, and the criterion
of knowledge, adjudged victory to him that kept the field ; and
he that had the last word, was concluded to have the better of
the argument, if not of the cause. But because by this means
there was like to be no decision between skilful combatants,
whilst one never failed of a medius terminus to prove any pro-
position ; and the other could as' constantly, without, or with a
distinction, deny the major or minor: to prevent, as much as
could be, running out of disputes into an endless train of
syllogisms, certain general propositions, most of them indeed
self-evident, were introduced into the schools ; which being such
as all men allowed and agreed in, were looked on as general
measures of truth, and served instead of principles (where the
disputants had not laid down any other between them), beyond
which there was no going, and which must not be receded from
by either side. And thus these maxims getting the name of
principles, beyond which men in dispute could not retreat, were
by mistake taken to be originals and sources, from whence
all knowledge began, and the foundations whereon the sciences
were built : because when in their disputes they came to any of
these, they stopped there, and went no farther, the matter was
determined. But how much this is a mistake, hath been already
shown.

This method of the schools, which have been thought the

Ck. 7. MAXIMS. 525

fountains of knowledge, introduced, as I suppose, the like use
of these maxims, into a great part of conversation out of the
schools, to stop the mouths of cavillers ; whom any one is
excused from arguing any longer with, when they deny these
general self-evident principles received by all reasonable men,
who have once thought of them ; but yet their use herein is but
to put an end to wrangling. They in truth, when urged in such
cases, teach nothing : that is already done by the intermediate
ideas made use of in the debate, whose connexion may be seen
without the help of those maxims, and so the truth known before
the maxim is produced, and the argument brought to a first
principle. Men would give off a wrong argument before it came
to that, if in their disputes they proposed to themselves the
finding and embracing of truth, and not a contest for victory.
And thus maxims have their use to put a stop to their perverse-
ness, whose ingenuity should have yielded sooner. But the
method of these schools having allowed and encouraged men to
oppose and resist evident truth, till they are baffled, i. e. till
they are reduced to contradict themselves, or some established
principle ; it is no wonder that they should not, in civil conver-
sation, be ashamed of that which in the schools is counted a
virtue and a glory; obstinately to maintain that side of the
question they have chosen, whether true or false, to the last
extremity, even after conviction : a strange way to attain truth
and knowledge; and that which I think the rational part of
mankind, not corrupted by education, could scarce believe
should ever be admitted amongst the lovers of truth, and stu-
dents of religion or nature, or introduced into the seminaries of
those who are to propagate the truths of religion or philosophy
amonirst the ignorant and unconvinced. How much such a
way of learning is likely to turn young men's minds from the
sincere search and love of truth ; nay, and to make them doubt
whether there is any such thing, or at least worth the adhering to ;
f shall not now enquire. This I think, that bating those
places which brought the peripatetic philosophy into their
schools, where it continued many ages, without teaching the
world anything but the art of wrangling; these maxims were
nowhere thouoht the foundations on which the sciences were
built, nor the great helps to the advancement of knowledge.

As to these general maxims, therefore, they are, as I have said,
of great use in disputes, to stop the mouths of wranglers ; but not
ofmuch use to the discovery of unknown truths, or to help the mind
in its search after knowdedjjre : for whoever becran to build his
knowledge on this general proposition, " What is, is ;" or, " It is
impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be ;" and from

">26 MAXIMS. Book 'I.

either of these, as from a principle of science, deduced a system
of useful knowledge ; wrong opinions often involving contra-
dictions, one of these maxims, as a touch-stone, may serve well
to show whether they lead. But yet, however fit to lay open
the absurdity or mistake of a man's reasoning or opinion, they
are of very little use for enlightening the understanding; and
it will not be found, that the mind receives much help from
them in its progress in knowledge ; which would be neither less,
nor less certain, were these two general propositions never
thought on. It is true, as I have said, they sometimes serve
in argumentation to stop a wrangler's mouth, by showing the
absurdity of what he saith, and by exposing him to the shame
of contradicting what all the world knows, and he himself
cannot but own to be true. But it is one thing to show a man that
he is in an error, and another to put him in possession of truth ;
and I would fain know what truths these two propositions are
able to teach, and by their influence make us know, which we
did not know before, or could not know without them. Let us
reason from them, as well as we can, they are only about iden-
tical predications ; and influence, if any at all, none but such.
Each particular proposition concerning identity or diversity, is
as clearly and certainly known in itself, if attended to, as either
of these general ones ; only these general ones, as serving in
all cases, are therefore more inculcated and insisted on. As to
other less general maxims, many of them are no more than bare
verbal propositions, and teach us nothing but the respect and
import of names one to another. " The whole is equal to all its
parts :" what real truth, I beseech you, does it teach us ? What
more is contained in that maxim, than what the signification of
the word totum, or the whole, does of itself import? And he
that knows that the word whole, stands for what is made up of
all its parts, knows very little less, than that the whole is equal
to all its parts. And upon the same ground, I think that this
proposition, "A hill is higher than a valley," and several the like,,
may also pass for maxims. But yet masters of mathematics,
when they would, as teachers of what they know, initiate others
in that science, do not, without reason, place this, and some
other such maxims, at the entrance of their systems ; that their
scholars, having in the beginning perfectly acquainted their
thoughts with these propositions, made in such general terms,
may be used to make such reflections, and have these more
general propositions, as formed rules and sayings, ready to
apply to all particular cases. Not that if they be equally
weighed, they are more clear and evident than the particular
instances they are brought to confirm : but that being more

Ch. 7. MAXIMS. 527

familiar to the mind, the very naming them, is enough to satisfy
the understanding. But this, I say, is more from our custom
of using them, and the establishment they have got in our
minds, by our often thinking of them, than from the different
evidence of the things. But before custom has settled methods
of thinking and reasoning in our minds, I am apt to imagine it
is quite otherwise ; and that the child, when part of his apple
is taken away, knows it better in that particular instance, than
by this general proposition, " The whole is equal to all its parts ;"
and that if one of these have need to be confirmed to him by
the other, the general has more need to be let into his mind by
the particular, than the particular by the general. For in
particulars, our knowledge begins, and so spreads itself by
degrees, to generals ; though afterwards the mind takes the
quite contrary course, and having drawn its knowledge into as
general propositions as it can, makes those familiar to its
thoughts, and accustoms itself to have recourse to them, as to
the standards of truth and falsehood. By which familiar use
of them, as rules to measure the truth of other propositions, it
comes in time to be thought, that more particular propositions
have their truth and evidence from their conformity to these
more general ones, which, in discourse and argumentation,
are so frequently urged, and constantly admitted. And this
I think to be the reason why among so many self-evident
propositions, the most general only have had the title of
maxims.

§. 12. Maxims, if care he not taken in the use of words, may
prove contradictions. — One thing farther, I think, it may not be
amiss to observe concerning these general maxims, that they
are so far from improving or establishing our minds in true
knowledge, that if our notions be wrong, Ioosq, or unsteady,
and we resign up our thoughts to the sound of words, rather
than fix them on settled determined ideas of things ; I say these
general maxims will serve to confirm us in mistakes ; and in
such a way of use of words, which is most common, will serve
to prove contradictions : v. g. he that with Des Cartes shall
frame in his mind an idea of what he calls body, to be nothing
but extension, may easily demonstrate, that there is no vacuum,
i. e. no space void of body, by this maxim, " what is, is :" for the
idea to which he annexes the name body, being bare extension,
his knowledge that space cannot be without body, is certain :
for he knows his own idea of extension clearly and distinctly,
and knows that it is what it is, and not another idea, though it
be called by these three names, extension, body, space. Which

520 MAXIMS. Book 4.

three words standing for one and the same idea, may, no doubt,
with the same evidence and certainty, be affirmed one of another,
as each of itself: and it is as certain, that whilst I use them all
to stand for one and the same idea, this predication is as true
and identical in its signification, that space is body, as this pre-
dication is true and identical, that body is body, both in signifi-
cation and sound.

§. 13. Instance in vacuum. — But if another should come, and
make to himself another idea, different from Des Cartes', of the
thing, which yet, with Des Cartes, he calls by the same name
body ; and make his idea, which he expresses by the word body,
to be of a' thing that hath both extension and solidity together;
he will as easily demonstrate, that there may be a vacuum, or
space, without a body, as Des Cartes demonstrated the contrary.
Because the idea to which he gives the name space, being
barely the simple one of extension; and the idea to which he
gives the name body, being the complex idea of extension and
resistibility or solidity together in the same subject, these two
ideas are not exactly one and the same, but in the under-
standinp- as distinct as the ideas of one and two, white and black,
or as of corporeity and humanity, if I may use those barbarous
terms : and therefore the predication of them in our minds, or
in words standing for them, is not identical, but the negation
of them one of another ; viz., this proposition, " Extension or
space is not body," is as true and evidently certain, as this
maxim, " It is impossible for the same thing- to be, and not to
be," can make any proposition.

§. 14. They prove not the existence of things without us. — But
yet, though both these propositions (as you see) may be equally
demonstrated, viz., that there may be a vacuum, and that there
cannot be a vacuum, by these two certain principles, viz., " AVhat
is, is," and " The same thing cannot be, and be;" yet neither
of these principles will serve to prove to us, that any, or what,
bodies do exist : for that we are left to our senses to discover
to us as far as they can. Those universal and self-evident
principles, being only our constant, clear, and distinct know-
ledo"e of our own ideas, more general or comprehensive, can
assure us of nothing that passes without the mind ; their
certainty is founded only upon the knowledge we have of each
idea by itself, and of its distinction from others ; about which
we cannot be mistaken whilst they are in our minds, though we
may be, and often are, mistaken, when we retain the names
without the ideas ; or use them confusedly, sometimes for one,
and sometimes for another, idea. In which cases, the force of

Ch.l. MAXIMS. 3'J9

these axioms, reaching only to the sound, and not the signifi-
cation, of the vvordsj serves only to lead us into confusion,
mistake, and error. It is to show men, that these maxims,
however cried up for the great guards of truth, will not secure
them from error in a careless loose use of their words, that I
have made this remark. In all that is here suggested concerning
their little use for the improvement of knowledge, or dangerous
use in undetermined ideas, I have been far enough from saying
or intending they should be laid aside, as some have been too
forward to charge me. I affirm them to be truths, self-evident
truths ; and so cannot be laid aside. As far as their influence
will reach, it is in vain to endeavour, nor will I attempt, to
abridge it. But yet, without any injury to truth or knowledge,
I may have reason to think their use is not answerable to the
great stress which seems to be laid on them; and I may warn
men not to make an ill use of them, for the confirming them-
selves in errors.

§. 15. Their application danyerous about complex ideas. — But
let them be of what use they will in verbal propositions, they
cannot discover or prove to us the least knowledge of the nature
of substances, as they are found and exist without us, any
fiirther than grounded on experience. And though the conse-
quence of these two propositions, called principles, be very
clear, and their use not dangerous or hurtful, in the probation
of such things, wherein there is no need at all of them for proof,
but such as are clear by themselves without them, viz., where
our ideas are determined, and known by the names that stand
for them: yet when these j^rinciples, viz., " what is, is ;" and " it
is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be ;" are made
use of in the probation of propositions, wherein are words
standing for complex ideas, v. g. man, hoise, gold, virtue ;
there they are of infinite danger, and most commonly make men
receive and retain falsehood for manifest truth, and uncertainty
for demonstration : upon which follow error, obstinacy, and all
the mischiefs that can happen from wrong reasoning. The reason
whereof is not, that these principles are less true, or of less
force in proving propositions made of terms standing for com-
plex ideas, than where the propositions are about simple ideas.
But because men mistake generally, thinking that where the
same terms are preserved, the propositions are about the same
things, though the ideas they stand for, are in truth different.
Therefore these maxims are made use of to support those, which
in sound and appearance are contradictory propositions ; as is
clear in the demonstrations above-mentioned about a vacuuvi.
So that whilst men take words for things, as usually they do,

M M

530 MAXIMS. Book 4.

these maxims may and do commonly serve to prove contradictory
propositions: as shall yet be i'arther made manifest.

§. 16, Instance in man. — For instance : let man be that
concerning which you would by these first principles demon-
strate any thing, and we shall see, that so far as demonstration
is by these principles, it is only verbal, and gives us no certain,
universal, true proposition or knowledge of any being existing
without us. First, A child having framed the idea of a man, it
is probable, that his idea is just like that picture which the
painter makes of the visible appearances joined together; and
such a complication of ideas together in his understanding,
makes up the simple complex idea which he calls man, whereof
white or flesh-colour in England, being one, the child can
demonstrate to you, that a Negro is not a man, because white
colour was one of the constant simple ideas of the complex idea
he calls man : and therefore he can demonstrate by the principle,
" It is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be," that a
Negro is not a man ; the foundation of his certainty being not
that universal proposition, which, perhaps, he never heard nor
thought of, but the clear distinct perception he hath of his own
simple ideas of black and white, which he cannot be persuaded
to take, nor can ever mistake one for another, whether he knows
that maxim or no : and to this child, or any one who hath such
an idea, which he calls man, can you never demonstrate that a
man hath a soul, because his idea of man includes no sucji
notion or idea in it. And therefore to him, the principle of
"what is, is," proves not this matter; but it depends upon collec-
tion and observation, by which he is to make his complex idea
called man.

§. 17. Secondly, Another that hath gone farther in framing
and collecting the idea he calls man, and to the outward shape
adds laughter and rational discourse, may demonstrate, that
infants and changelings are no men, by this maxim, " it is impos-
sible for the same thing to be, and not to be :" and I have
discoursed with very rational men, who have actually denied
that they are men,

§. 18. Thirdly, Perhaps another makes up the complex
idea which he calls man, only out of the- ideas of body in
general, and the powers of language and reason, and leaves out
the shape wholly : this man is able to demonstrate, that a man
may have no hands, but be quadrupes, neither of those being
included in his idea of man ; and in whatever body or shape he
found speech and reason joined, that was a man : because having
a clear knowledge of such a complex idea, it is certain that
" what is, is."

Ch. 8. TRIFLING PROPOSITIONS. 531

§. 19. Little use of these maxims in prvofs where we have
clear and distinct ideas. — So that, if rightly considered, I think
we may say, that where our ideas are determined in our minds,
and have annexed to them by us known and steady names under
those settled determinations, there is little need, or no use at all,
of these maxims, to prove the agreement or disagreement of any
of them. He that cannot discern the truth or falsehood of such
propositions, without the help of these, and the like, maxims,
will not be helped by these maxims to do it: since he cannot be
supposed to know the truth of these maxims themselves, without
proof, if he cannot know the truth of others, without proof,
which are as self-evident as these. Upon this ground it is, that
intuitive knowledge neither requires nor admits any proof, one
part of it more than another. He that will suppose it does,
takes away the foundation of all knowledge and certainty : and
he that needs any proof to make him certain, and give his assent
to this proposition, " that two are equal to two," will also have
need of a proof to make him admit, that "what is, is." He that
needs a probation to convince him, that two are not three, that
white is not black, that a triangle is not a circle, &c., or any
other two determined distinct ideas, are not one and the same,
will need also a demonstration to convince him, " that it is im-
possible for the' same thing to be, and not to be."

§. 20. Their use dangerous where our ideas are confused. —
And as these maxims are of little use where we have determined
ideas, so they are, as I have shown, of dangerous use where our
ideas are not determined; and where we use words that are not
annexed to determined ideas, but such as are of a loose and
wandering signification, sometimes standing for one, and some-
times for another, idea: from which follows mistake and error,
which these maxims (brought as proofs to establish propositions,
wherein the terms stand for undetermined ideas) do by their
authority confirm and rivet.

CHAPTER VIII.

OF TRIFLING PROPOSITIONS.

§. 1. Some propositions bring no encrease to our knoicledge. —
Whether the maxims treated of in the foregoing chapter, be of
that use to real knowledge as is generally supposed, I leave to
be considered. This, I think, may confidently be affirmed, that
there are universal propositions, which, though they be certainly

M M 2

532 TRIFLING PROPOSITIONS. Book 4.

true, yet they add no light to ouf understandings, bring no
increase to our knowledge. Such are,

§. 2. As, first, identical propositions. — First, All purely
identical propositions. These obviously, and at first blush,
appear to contain no instruction in them : for when we affirm
the said terra of itself, whether it be barely verbal, or whether
it contains any clear and real idea, it shows us nothing but what
we must certainly know before, whether such a proposition be
either made by, or proposed to, us. Indeed, that most general
one, " what is, is," may serve sometimes to show a man the ab-
surdity he is guilty of, when by circumlocution or equivocal
terms, he would, in particular instances, deny the same thing of
itself; because nobody will so openly bid defiance to common
sense, as to affirm visible and direct contradictions in plain
words : or if he does, a man is excused if he breaks off any
farther discourse with him. But yet, I think, I may say, that
neither that received maxim, nor any other identical proposition,
teaches us any thing : and though in such kind of propositions,
this great and magnified maxim, boasted to be the foundation of
demonstration, may be, and often is, made use of to confirm
them ; yet all it proves, amounts to no more than this, that the
same word may with great certainty be affirmed of itself,
without any doubt of the truth of any such proposition ; and
let me add also, without any real knowledge.

§. 3. For at this rate, any very ignorant person, who can
but make a proposition, and knows what he means when he
says. Aye, or No, may make a million of propositions, of whose
truth he may be infallibly certain, and yet not know one thing
in the world thereby; v. g. what is a soul is a soul; or a soul
is a soul ; a spirit is a spirit ; a fetiche is a fetiche, &c. These
all being equivalent to this proposition, viz., " what is, is ;"
i. e. what hath existence, hath existence ; or who hath a soul,
hath a soul. What is this more than trifling with words? It is
but like a monkey shifting his oyster from one hand to the
other ; and had he had but words, might, no doubt, have said,
" Oyster in right hand is subject, and oyster in left hand is
predicate :" and so might have made a self-evident proposition
of oysters, i.e. oyster is oyster ; and yet with all this, have not
been one whit the wiser, or more knowing ; and that way of
handling the matter, would much at once have satisfied the
monkey's hunger, or a man's understanding ; and they would
have improved in knowledge and bulk together.

I know there are some, who, because identical propositions are
self-evident, show a great concern for them, and think they do

Ch. 8. TRIFLING PROPOSll IONS. 538

o-reat service to philosophy by crying them up, as if in them was
contained all knowledge, and the understanding were led into
all truth by them only. 1 grant, as forwardly as any one, that
they are all true and self-evident. I grant farther, that the
foundation of all our knowledge lies in the faculty we have of
perceiving the same idea to be the same, and of discerning it
from those that are different, as I have shown in the foregoing
chapter. But hov/ that vindicates the making use of identical
propositions, for the improvement of knowledge, from the
imputation of trifling, I do not see. Let any one repeat, as
often as he pleases, that the will is the will, or lay what stress
on it he thinks fit ; of what use is this, and an infinite the like
propositions, for the enlarging our knowledge ? Let a man
abound as much as the plenty of words which he has will
permit, in such propositions as these ; " a law is a law,"
and " obligation is obligation ;" " right is right," and " wrong
is wrong;" will these and the like, ever help him to an acquaint-
ance with ethics ? Or instruct him or others in the knowledge
of morality ? Those who know not, nor perhaps ever will know,
what is right, and what is wrong, nor the measures of them, can
with as much assurance make, and infallibly know the truth of,
these, and all such propositions, as he that is best instructed in
morality can do. But what advance do such propositions give
in the knowledge of any thing necessary or useful for their
conduct ?

He would be thought to do little less than trifle, who, for the
enlightening the understanding in any part of knowledge, should
he busy with identical propositions, and insist on such maxims
as these ; substance is substance, and body is body ; a va-
cuum is a vacuum, and a vortex is a vortex ; a centaur is a
centaur, and a chimera is a chimera, &c. For these, and all
such, are equally true, equally certain, and equally self-evident.
But yet they cannot but be counted trifling, when made use of
as principles of instruction, and stress laid on them, as helps to
knowledge ; since they teach nothing but what every one, who
is capable of discourse, knows without being told, viz., that the
same term is the same term, and the same idea the same idea.
And upon this account it was that I formerly did, and do still,
think, the offering and inculcating such propositions, in order
to give the understanding any new light or inlet into the know-
ledge of things, no better than trifling.

Instruction lies in something very different ; and he that
would enlarge his own or another's mind, to truths he does not
yet know, must find out intermediate ideas, and tiien lay them
in such order one by another, that the understanding may see

M M 3

534 TRIFLING PROPOSITIONS. Book 4.

the agreement or diBagreement of those in question. Proposi-
tions that do this, are instructive : but they are far from such
as affirm the same term of itself; which is no way to advance
one's self or others in any sort of knowledge. It no more helps
to that, than it would help any one in his learning to read, to
have such propositions as these inculcated to him : an A is
an A, and a B is a B ; which a man may know as well as any
schoolmaster, and yet never be able to read a word as long
as he lives. Nor do these, or any such, identical propositions,
help him one jot forwards in the skill of reading, let him make
what use of them he can.

If those who blame my calling them trifling propositions, had
but read, and been at the pains to understand, what I have above
writ in very plain English, they could not but have seen that
by identical propositions, I mean only such wherein the same
tenn importing the same idea, is affirmed of itself: which I take
to be the proper signification of identical propositions ; and
concerning all such, I think I may continue safely to say, that
to propose them as instructive, is no better than trifling. For
no one who has the use of reason, can miss them, where it is
necessary they should be taken notice of; nor doubt of their
truth, when he does take notice of them.

But if men will call propositions identical, wherein the same
term is not affirmed of itself, whether they speak more properly
than I, others must judge: this is certain, all that they say of
propositions that are not identical, in my sense, concerns not
me, nor what I have said; all that I have said relating to
those propositions wherein the same term is affirmed of itself.
And I would fain see an instance, wherein any such can be
made use of, to the advantage and improvement of any one's
knowledge. Instances of other kinds, whatever use may
be made of them, concern not me, as not being such as I call
identical.

§. 4. Secondly, when a part of any complex idea is j^redi-
cated of the whole. — Secondly, Another sort of trifling proposi-
tions is, when a part of the complex idea is predicated of the
name of the whole ; a part of the definition of the word defined.
Such are all propositions wherein the genus is predicated of the
species, or more comprehensive of less comprehensive terms :
for what information, what knowledge, carries this proposition
in it,- viz., " lead is a metal," to a man who knows the complex
idea the name lead stands for ? All the simple ideas that go to
the complex one signified by the term metal, being nothing but
Avhat he before comprehended, and signified by the name lead.
Indeed, to a man that knows the signification of the word metal.

Cli. B. TRIFLING PROPOSITIONS. o35

and not of the word lead, it is a shorter way to explain the
signification of the word lead, by saying, it is a metal, which at
once expresses several of its simple ideas, than to enumerate
them one by one, telling him it is a body very heavy, fusible,
and malleable.

§. 5. As part of the definition of the term defined. — Alike
trifling it is, to predicate any other part of the definition of
the term defined, or to affirm any one of the simple ideas of a
complex one, of the name of the wiiole complex idea ; as " All
gold is fusible." For fusibility being one of the simple ideas
that goes to the making up the complex one the sound gold
stands for, what can it be but playing with sounds, to affirm that
of the name gold, which is comprehended in its received signi-
fication ? It would be thought little better than ridiculous, to
affirm gravely, as a truth of moment, that " gold is yellow ;" and
I see not how it is any jot more material to say, " It is fusible,"
unless that quality be left out of the complex idea of which the
sound gold is the mark in ordinary speech. What instruction
can it carry with it, to tell one that which he hath been told
already, or he is supposed to know before ? For I am supposed
to know the signification of the word another uses to me, or
else he is to tell me. And if I know that the name gold
stands for this complex idea of body, yellow, heavy, fusible,
malleable, it will not much instruct me to put it solemnly after-
wards in a proposition, and gravely say, "All gold is fusible."
Such propositions can only serve to show the disingenuity of
one, who will go from the definition of his own terms, by
reminding him sometimes of it ; but carry no knowledge with
them, but of the signification of words, however certain
they he.

§. 6. Instance, man atid j)alfry. — Every man is an animal, or
living body, is as certain a proposition as can be ; but no more
conducing to the knowledge of things, than to sav, " A palfry
is an ambling horse," or a neighing ambling animal, both beino-
only about the signification of words, and make me know but
this : that body, sense, and motion, or power of sensation and
moving, are three of those ideas that I always comprehend and
signify by the word man ; and where they are not to be found
together, the name man belongs not to that thing ; and so of the
other, that body, sense, and a certain way of goin'>-, with a
certain kind of voice, are some of those ideas which I always
comprehend and signify by the word palfry ; and when they are
not to be found together, the name palfry belongs not to that
thing. It is just the same, and to the same purpose, when any
term standing for any one or more of the simple ideas, that

M M 4

536 TRIFLING PROPOSITIONS. Book 4.

altogether make up that complex idea which is called man, is
affirmed of the term man ; v. g. suppose a Roman signified by
the word homo, all these distinct ideas united in one subject,
corporietas, sensihilitas, potentia se movendi, rationalitas, risi-
hilitas, he might, no doubt, with great certainty, universally
affirm one, more, or all of these together of the word homo, hut
did no more than say, that the word homo, in his country, com-
prehended in its signification all these ideas. Much like a
romance knight, who, by the word palfry, signified these ideas ;
body of a certain figure, four-legged, with sense, motion,
ambling, neighing, white, used to have a woman on his back ;
might, with the same certainty, universally affirm also any or all
of these of the word palfry; but did thereby teach no more, but
that the word palfry, in his, or romance language, stood for all
these, and was not to be applied to any thing, where any of
these were wanting. But he that shall tell me, that in whatever
thing sense, motion, reason, and laughter were united, that
thing had actually a notion of God, or would be cast into
sleep by opium, made indeed an instructive proposition ;
because neither having the notion of God, nor being cast
into sleep by opium, being contained in the idea signified
by the word man, we are by such propositions taught some-
thing more than barely what the word man stands for ;
and, therefore, the knowledge contained in it, is more than
verbal.

§. 7. For this teaches but the signification of vmrds. — Before
a man makes any proposition, he is supposed to understand the
terms he uses in it, or else he talks like a parrot, only making a
noise by imitation, and framing certain sounds which he has
learnt oif others ; but not as a rational creature, using them for
sio-ns of ideas which he has in his mind. The hearer, also, is
supposed to understand the terms as the speaker uses them, or
else he talks jargon, and makes an unintelligible noise. And
therefore he trifles with words, who makes such a proposition,
which, when it is made, contains no more than one of the terms
does, and which a man was supposed to know before, v. g. a
triangle hath three sides, or saffron is yellow. And this is no
farther tolerable than where a man goes to explain his terms, to
one who is supposed, or^declares himself, not to understand him;
and then it teaches only the signification of that word, and the
use of that sign.

§. 8. But no real knowledge.— We can know then the truth
of two sorts of propositions, with perfect certainty ; the one is,
of those trifling propositions which have a certainty in them, but
it is only a verbal certainty, but not instructive. And, Secondly,

Ch.8. TRIFLING PROPOSITIONS. 537

we can know the truth, and so may be certain in propositions
which affirm something of another, which is a necessary con-
sequence of its precise complex idea, but not contained in it.
As that the external angle of all triangles, is bigger than either
of the opposite internal angles ; which relation of the outward
angle, to either of the opposite internal angles, making no
part of the complex idea signified by the name triangle ;
this is a real truth, and conveys with it instructive real
knowledge.

§. 9. General propositions concerning substances, are often
trifling. — We having little or no knowledge of what combinations
there be of simple ideas existing together in substances, but by
our senses, we cannot make any universal certain propositions
concerning them, any farther than our nominal essences lead us ;
which being to a very few and inconsiderable truths, in respect
of those which depend on their real constitutions, the general
propositions that are made about substances, if they are certain,
are, for the most part, but trifling ; and if they are instructive,
are uncertain, and such as we can have no knowledge of their
real truth, how much soever constant observation and analogy
may assist our judgment in guessing. Hence it comes to pass,
that one may often meet with very clear and coherent discourses
that amount yet to nothing. For it is plain, that names of sub-
stantial beings, as well as others, as far as they have relative
significations affixed to them, may, with great truth, be joined
negatively and affirmatively in propositions, as their relative
definitions make them fit to be so joined; and propositions
consisting of such terms, may, with the same clearness, be
deduced one from another, as those that convey the most real
truths; and all (this, without. any knowledge of the nature or
reality of things existing without us. By this method, one
may make demonstrations and undoubted propositions in words,
and yet thereby advance not one jot in the knowledge of the
truth of things; v. g. he that having learned these following
words, with their ordinary mutual relative acceptations annexed
to them, V. g. substance, man, animal, form, soul, vegetative,
sensitive, rational, may make several undoubted propositions
about the soul, without knowing at all what the soul really is ;
and of this sort, a man may find an infinite number of propo-
sitions, reasonings, and conclusions, in books of metaphysics,
school divinity, and some sort of natural philosophy ; and,
after all, know as little of God, spirits, or bodies, as he did
before he set out.

§. 10. And why. — He that hath liberty to define, i. e. deter-
mine, the signification of his names of substances (as certainly

538 TRIFLING PROPOSITIONS. Book4.

ovej'y one does in effect, who makes them stand for his own
ideas), and makes their significations at a venture, taking them
from ]iis own or other men's fancies, and not from an exami-
nation or enquiry into the nature of things themselves, may,
with little trouble, demonstrate them one of another, according
to those several respects, and mutual relations, he has given
them one to another; wherein, however things agree or disagree
in their own nature, he needs mind nothing but his own notions,
with the names he hath bestowed upon them ; but thereby no
more encreases his own knowledge, than he does his riches, who
taking a bag .of counters, calls one in a certain jdace a pound ;
another, in another place, a shilling ; and a third, in a third place,
a penny : and so proceeding, may undoubtedly reckon right,
and cast up a great sura, according to his counters so placed,
and standing for more or less, as he pleases, without being one
jot the richer, or without even knowing how much a pound,
shilling, or penny is, but only that one is contained in the
other twenty times, and contains the other twelve ; which a man
may also do in the signification of words, by making them
in respect of one another more or less, or equally compre-
hensive.

§. 11. Thirdly, using words variously, is trifling with them. —
Though yet concerning most words used in discourses, espe-
cially argumentative and controversial, there is this more to be
complained of, which is the worst sort of trifling, and which
sets us yet farther from the certainty of knowledge we hope to
attain by them, or find in them, viz., that most writers are so far
from instructing us in the nature and knowledge of things, that
they use their words loosely and uncertainly, and do not, by
using them constantly and steadily in the same significations,
make plain and clear deductions of words one from another, and
make their discourses coherent and clear (how little soever they
were instructive), which were not difficult to do, did they not
find it convenient to shelter their ignorance or obstinacy under
the obscurity and perplexedness of their terms : to which,
perhaps, inadvertency and ill custom do in many men much
contribute.

§. 12. Marks of ve?'bal propositions. — To conclude : barely
verbal propositions may be known by these following marks :

First, predication in abstract. — First, All propositions, wherein
two abstract terms are affirmed one of another, are barely about
the signification of sounds. For since no abstract idea can be
the same with any other but itself, when its abstract name is
affirmed of any other term, it can signify no more but this, that
it may, or ought to, be called by that name ; or that these two

Ch.i). KNOWLEDGE OF EXISTENCE. 539

names signify the same idea. Thus should any one say, that
parsimony is frugality ; that gratitude is justice ; that this or
that action is or is not temperate ; however specious these and
the like propositions may at first sight seem, yet when we come
to press them, and examine nicely what they contain, we shall
find, that it all amounts to nothing but the signification of
those terms.

§. 13. Secondly, a part of the definition predicated of any
term. — Secondly, All propositions, wherein a part of the com-
plex idea which any term stands for, is predicated of that term,
are only verbal, v. g. to say that gold is a metal, or heavy. And
thus all propositions, wherein more comprehensive words, called
genera, are affirmed of subordinate, or less comprehensive, called
species or individuals, are barely verbal.

When, by these two rules, we have examined the propositions
that make up the discourses we ordinarily meet with, both in
and out of books, we shall perhaps find, that a greater part of
them, than is usually suspected, are purely about the signification
of words, and contain nothing in them, but the use and appli-
cation of these signs.

This, I think, I may lay down for an infallible rule, that where-
ever the distinct idea any word stands for, is not known and
considered, and something not contained in the idea, is not
affirmed, or denied of it, there our thoughts stick wholly in
sounds, and are able to attain no real truth or falsehood. This
perhaps, if well heeded, might save us a great deal" of useless
amusement and dispiite ; and very much shorten our trouble and
wandering in the search of real and true knowledge.

CHAPTER IX.

OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF EXISTENCE.

§. 1. General certain propositions, concern not existence. —
Hitherto we have only considered the essences of things, which
being only abstract ideas, and thereby removed in our thoughts
from particular existence (that being the proper operation of
the mind, in abstraction, to consider an idea under no other ex-
istence but what it has in the understanding), gives us no know-
ledge of real existence at all. Where, by the way, we may
take notice that universal propositions, of whose truth or false-
hood we can have certain knowledge, concern not existence ;
and farther, that all particular afllrmations or negations that
would not be certain, if they were made general, are only con-

640 KNOWLEDGE OF Book 4.

cerning existence ; they declaring only the accidental union
or separation of ideas in things existing, which, in their ab-
stract natures, have no known necessary union or repug-
nancy.

§. 2. Ji three-fold knowledge of existence. — But, leaving the
nature of propositions, and different ways of predication, to be
considered more at large in anotlier place, let us proceed now to
enquire concerning our knowledge of the existence of things,
and how we come by it. I say then, that we have the know-
ledge of our own existence, by intuition ; of the existence of
God, by demonstration ; and of other things, by sensation.

§. 3. Our knowledge of our own existence is intuitive. — As for
our own existence, we perceive it so plainly, and so certainly,
that it neither needs, nor is capable of, any proof. For nothing
can be more evident to us, than our own existence. I think, I
reason, I feel pleasure and pain ; can any of these be more
evident to me, than my own existence ? If I doubt of all other
things, that very doubt makes me perceive my own existence,
and will not suffer me to doubt of that. For if I know I feel
pain, it is evident I have as certain perception of my own ex-
istence, as of the existence of the pain I feel : or if I know I
doubt, I have as certain perception of the existence of the thing
doubting, as of that thought which I call doubt. Experience
then convinces us, that we have an intuitive knowledge of our
own existence, and an internal infallible perception that we are.
In every act of sensation, reasoning, or thinking, we are con-
scious to ourselves of our own being; and, in this matter, come
not short of the highest degree of certainty.

CHAPTER X.

OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE EXISTENCE OF A GOD.

§. 1. We are capable of knowing certainly that there is a
God. — Though God has given us no innate ideas of himself;
though he has stamped no original characters in our minds,
wherein we may read his being ; yet having furnished us with
those faculties our minds are endowed with, he hath not left
himself without witness ; since we have sense, perception, and
reason, and cannot want a clear proof of him, as long as we
carry ourselves about us. Nor can we justly complain of our
ignorance in this great point, since he has so plentifully pro-
vided us with the means to discover and know him, so far as is
necessary, to the end of our being, and the great concernment

Ch. 10. THE EXISTENCE OF A GOD. 541

of our happiness. But though this be the most obvious truth
that reason discovers, and though its evidence be (if I mistake
not) equal to mathematical certainty ; yet it requires thought
and attention, and the mind must apply itself to a regular de-
duction of it from some part of our intuitive knowledge, or else
we shall be as uncertain and ignorant of this as of other pro-
positions, which are in themselves capable of clear demonstration.
To show, therefore, that we are capable of knowing, i. e. being
certain that there is a God, and how we may come by this cer-
tainty, I think we need go no farther than ourselves, and that
undoubted knowledge we have of our own existence.

§. 2. Man knows that he himself is. — I think it is beyond
question, that man has a clear idea of his own being ; he
knows certainly that he exists, and that he is something. He
that can doubt, whether he be any thing or no, I speak not to ;
no more than I would argue with pure nothing, or endeavour to
convince non-entity, that it were something. If any one pre-
tends to be so sceptical, as to deny his own existence (for really
to doubt of it, is manifestly impossible), let him for me enjoy
his beloved happiness of being nothing, until hunger, or some
other pain, convince him of the contrary. This then, I think, I
may take for a truth, which every one's certain knowledge
assures him of beyond the liberty of doubting, viz., that he is
something that actually exists.

§. 3. He knows also, that nothing cannot produce a heing,
therefore something eternal. — In the next place, man knows by
an intuitive certainty, that bare nothing can no more produce
any real being, than it can be equal to two right angles. If a man
knows not that non-entity, or the absence of all being, cannot
be equal to two right angles, it is impossible he should know
any demonstration in Euclid. If therefore we know there is
some real being, and that non-entity cannot produce any real
being, it is an 'evident demonstration, that from eternity there
has been something ; since what was not from eternity, had a
beginning ; and what had a beginning, must be produced bv
something else.

§. 4. That eternal heing must he most powerful. — Next, it is
evident, that what had its being and beginning from another,
must also have all that which is in, and beloncrs to its beino- from
another too. All the powers it has, must be owing to, and
received from, the same source. This eternal source, then, of all
being, must also be the source and original of all power ; and
so this eternal being must be also the most powerful.

§. 5. And most knowing. — Again, a man finds in himself
perception and knowledge. We have then got one step farther ;

642 KNOWLEDGE OF Book 4.

and we are certain now, that there is not only some being, but
some knowing intelligent being, in the world.

There was a time then, when there was no knowing being, and
when knowledge began to be ; or else, there has been also a
knowing being from eternity. If it be said, there was a time
when no being had any knowledge, when that eternal being was
void of all understanding; I reply, that then it was impossible
there should ever have been any knowledge. It being as impos-
sible that things wholly void of knowledge, and operating
blindly, and without any perception, should produce a knowing
being ; as it is impossible, that a triangle should make itself
three angles bigger than two right ones. For it is as repugnant
to the idea of senseless matter, that it should put into itself
sense, perception, and knowledge ; as it is repugnant to the idea
of a triangle, that it should put into itself greater angles than
two right ones.

§. 6. And therefore God. — Thus from the consideration of
ourselves, and what we infallibly find in our own constitutions,
our reason leads us to the knowledge of this certain and evident
truth, that there is an eternal, most powerful, and most knowing
Being ; which, whether any one will please to call God, it matters
not. The thing is evident; and from this idea duly considered,
will easily be deduced all those other attributes which we ought
to ascribe to this eternal Being. If, nevertheless, any one should
be found so senselessly arrogant, as to suppose man alone,
knowing and wise, but yet the product of mere ignorance and
chance ; and that all the rest of the universe acted only by that
blind hap-hazard ; I shall leave with him that very rational and
emphatical rebuke of Tully, 1. 2, de leg. to be considered at his
leisure : " What can be more sillily arrogant and misbecoming,
than for a man to think that he has a mind and understanding
in him, but yet in all the universe beside, there is no such thing?
Or that those things, which with the utmost stretch of his reason,
he can scarce comprehend, should be moved and managed with-
out any reason at all?" " Quid est enim verius, quam neminem
esse oportere tam stulte arrogantem, ut in se mentem et rationem
putet inesse, in coelo mundoque non putet ? Aut ea quae vix
summa ingenii ratione comprehendat, nulla ratione moveri
putet ?"

From what has been said, it is plain to me we have a more
certain knowledge of the existence of a God, than of any thing
our senses have not immediately discovered to us. Nay, I pre-
sume I may say, that we may more certainly know that there is
a God, than that there is any thing else without us. When I
savwe know, I mean there is such a knowledge within our reach,

Ch. 10. THE EXISTENCE OF A GOD. 543

which we cannot miss, if we will but apply our minds to that, as
we do to several other enquiries.

^..7. Our idea of a most perfect heimf, not the sole proof of a
God. — How far the idea of a most perfect being, which a man
may frame in his mind, does or does not prove the existence of
a God, I will not here examine. For in the different make of
men's tempers, and application of their thoughts, some argu-
ments prevail more on one, and some on another, for the con-
firmation of the same truth. But yet, I think, this I may say,
that it is an ill way of establishing this truth, and silencing
Atheists, to lay the whole stress of so important a point as this,
upon that sole foundation : and take some men's having that idea
of God in their minds (for it is evident, some men have none,
and some worse than none, and the most very different), for the
only proof of a Deity ; and out of an over fondness of that dar-
ling invention, cashier, or at least endeavour to invalidate, all
other arguments, and forbid us to hearken to those proofs, as
being weak or fallacious, which our own existence, and the sen-
sible parts of the universe, offer so clearly and cogently to our
thoughts, that I deem it impossible for a considering man te
withstand them: for I judge it as certain and clear a truth, as
can anywhere be delivered, that " the invisible things of God are
clearly seen from the creation of the world, being understood by
the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead."
Though our own being furnishes us, as I have shown, with an
evident and incontestible proof of a Deity; and I believe nobody
can avoid the cogency of it ; who will but as carefully attend
to it, as to any other demonstration of so many parts ; yet this
being so fundamental a truth, and of that consequence that all
religion and genuine morality depend thereon, I doubt not but
I shall be forgiven by my reader, if I go over some parts of this
argument again, and enlarge a little more upon them.

§. 8. Something from eternity. — There is no truth more
evident, than that something must be from eternity. I never
yet heard of any one so unreasonable, or that could suppose so
manifest a contradiction, as a time wherein there was perfectly
nothing. This being of all absurdities the greatest, to imao-ine
that pure nothing, the perfect negation and absence of all beino-s,
should ever produce any real existence.

It being then unavoidable for all rational creatures to conclude
that something has existed from eternity, let us next see what
kind of thing that must be.

§. 9. TiL'O sorts of beings, cogitative and incogitative. — There
are but two sorts of beings in the world, that man knows or
conceives.

544 KNOWLEDGE OF Book 4.

First, Such a8 are purely material, witliout sense, perception,
or thought, as the clippings of our beards, and parings of our
nails.

Secondly, Sensible, thinking, perceiving beings, such as we
find ourselves to be ; which, if you please, we will hereafter call
cogitative and incogitative beings ; which to our present purpose,
if for nothing else, are perhaps better terms than material and
immaterial.

§. 10. Incogitative being cannot produce a cogitative. — If then
there must be something eternal, let us see what sort of being it
must be. And so that, it is very obvious to reason, that it must
necessarily be a cogitative being. For it is as impossible to
conceive that ever bare incogitative matter should produce a
thinking intelligent being, as that nothing should of itself pro-
duce matter. Let us suppose any parcel of matter eternal^
great or small, we shall find it, in itself, able to produce nothing.
For example, let us suppose the matter of the next pebble we
meet with, eternal, closely united, and the parts firmly at rest
together ; if there were no other being in the world, must it not
eternally remain so, a dead, inactive lump ? Is it possible to
conceive it can add motion to itself, being purely matter, or pro-
duce any thing ? Matter then, by its own strength, cannot pro-
duce in itself so much as motion : the motion it has, must also
be from eternity, or else be produced, and added to matter by
some other being more powerful than matter : matter, as is evident,
having not power to produce motion in itself. But let us suppose
motion eternal too ; yet matter, incogitative matter and motion,
whatever changes it might produce of figure and bulk, could
never produce thought. Knowledge will still be as far beyond
the power of motion and matter to produce, as matter is beyond
the power of nothing or non-entity to produce. And I appeal
to every one's own thoughts, whether he cannot as easily con-
ceive matter produced by nothing, as thought to be produced by
pure matter, when before there was no such thing as thought,
or an intelligent being existing? Divide matter into as minute
parts as you will (w^hich we are apt to imagine a sort of spirit-
ualizing, or making a thinking thing of it), vary the figure and
motion of it as much as you please ; a globe, cube, cone, prism,
cylinder, Sec, whose diameters are but 1000000th part of a gry*,

* A gry is one-tenth of a line, a line one-tenth of an inch, an inch one-tenth of a
philosophical foot, a philosophical foot one-third of a pendulum, whose diadroms, in the
latitude of 45 degrees, are each equal to one second of time, or one-sixtieth of a minute.
I have aSectedly made use of this measure here, and the parts of it, under a decimal
division, with names to them ; because 1 think it would be of general convenience, that
tins should be the common measure, in the commonwealth of letters.

Ch. 10. THE EXISTENCE OF A GOD. 545

Avill operate no otherwise upon other bodies of proportionable
bulk, than those of an inch or foot diameter; and you may as
rationally expect to produce sense, thought, and knowledge, by
putting together, in a certain figure and motion, gross particles
of matter, as by those that are the very minutest, that do any
where exist. They knock, impel, and resist one another, just
as the greater do, and that is all they can do. So that if we
will suppose nothing first, or eternal, matter can never begin
to be : if we suppose bare matter, without motion, eternal motion
can never begin to be : if we suppose only matter and motion
first, or eternal, thought can never begin to be. For it is im-
possible to conceive that matter, either with or without motion,
could have originally in, and from, itself, sense, perception, and
knowledge, as is evident from hence, that then sense, perception,
and knowledge, must be a property eternally inseparable from
matter, and every particle of it. Not to add, that though our
general or specific conception of matter makes us speak of it as
one thing, yet really all matter is not one individual thing,
neither is there any such thing existing as one material being,
or one single body, that we know or can conceive. And therefore
if matter were the eternal first cogitative Being, there would
not be one eternal infinite cogitative Being, but an infinite
number of eternal finite cogitative beings, independent one of
another, of limited force, and distinct thoughts, which could never
produce that order, harmony, and beauty, which are to be found
in nature. Since, therefore, whatsoever is the first eternal being-,
must necessarily be cogitative ; and whatsoever is first of all
things, must necessarily contain in it, and actually have, at least,
all the perfections that can ever after exist : nor can it ever give
to another any perfection that it hath not, either actually in
itself, or at least in a higher degree : it necessarily follows, that
the first eternal being cannot be matter.

^. 11. Therefore there has been an eternal wisdom. — If there-
fore it be evident, that something necessarily must exist from
eternity, it is also as evident, that that something must necessarily
be a cogitative Being : for it is as impossible, that incogitative
matter should produce a cogitative Being, as that nothing, or
the negation of all being, should produce a positive being or
matter.

§. 12- Though this discovery of the necessary existence of
an eternal mind, does sufficiently lead us into the knowledge of
God, since it will hence follow, that all other knowing beings
that have a beginning, must depend on him, and have no other
ways of knowledge, or extent of power, than what he gives them ;
and therefore if he made those, he made also the less excellent

N N

546 KNOWLEDGE OF Book 4.

pieces of this universe, all inanimate beings, whereby his omni-
science, power, and providence, will be established, and all his
other attributes necessarily follow : yet to clear up this a little
farther, we will see what doubts can be raised apjainst it.

§. 13. Whether material or no. — First, Perhaps it will be
said, that though it be as clear as demonstration can make it,
that there must be an eternal Beino;, and that Beins; must also
be knowing ; yet it does not follow, but that thinking Being may
also be material. Let itbe so ; it equally still follows, that there is
a God ; for if there be an eternal, omniscient, omnipotent Being,
it is certain that there is a God, whether you imagine that Being
to be material or no. But herein, I suppose, lies the danger and
deceit of that supposition : there being no way to avoid the de-
monstration, that there is an eternal knowing Being, men,
devoted to matter, would willingly have it granted, that this
knowing Being is material ; and then letting slide out of their
minds, or th e discourse, the demonstration whereby an eternal
knowing Being was proved necessarily to exist, would argue all
to be matter, and so deny a God, that is, an eternal cogitative
Being ; whereby they are so far from establishing, that they
destroy, their own hypothesis. For if there can be, in their
opinion, eternal matter, without any eternal cogitative Being,
they manifestly separate matter and thinking, and suppose no
necessaiy connexion of the one with the other ; and so establish
the necessity of an eternal spirit, but not of matter, since it has
been proved already, that an eternal cogitative being is un-
avoidably to be granted. Now, if thinking and matter may be
separated, the eternal existence of matter will not follow from
the eternal existence of a cogitative Being, and they suppose it
to no purpose.

§. 14. Not material, first, because every particle of matter
is not cogitative. — But now let us see how they can satisfy them-
selves or others, that this eternal thinking Being is material.

First, I would ask them, whether they imagine that all matter,
every particle of matter, thinks ? This, I suppose, they will
scarce say, since then there would be as many eternal thinking
beings, as there are particles of matter, and so an infinity of
gods. And yet, if they will not allow matter as matter, that is,
every particle of matter to be as well cogitative as extended,
they will have as hard a task to make out to their own reasonS;
a cogitative being out of incogitative particles, as an extended
being out of unextended parts, if I may so speak.

§. 15. Secondly, one particle alone of matter, cannot be cogi-
tative.— Secondly, If all matter does not think, I next ask, whether
it be only one atom that does so? This has as many absurdities

Ck. 10. THE EXISTENCE OF A GOD. 547

as the other ; fov then this atom of matter must be alone eternal
or not. If this alone be eternal, then this alone, by its powerful
thought or will, made all the rest of matter. And so we have
the creation of matter by a powerful thought, which is that the
materialists stick at : for if they suppose one single thinking
atom to have produced all the rest of matter, they cannot ascribe
that pre-eminency to it upon any other account, than that of its
thinking; the only, supposed difference. But allow it to be by
some other way, which is above our conception, it must be still
creation, and these men must give up their great maxim, Kx
siihilo nil Jit. If it be said, that all the rest of matter is equally
eternal, as that thinking atom, it will be to say any thing at
pleasure, though ever so absurd : for to suppose all matter
eternal, and yet one small particle in knowledge and power infi-
nitely above all the rest, is without any the least appearance
of reason to frame any hypothesis. Every particle of matter,
as matter, is capable of all the same figures and motions of any
other; and I challenge any one, in his thoughts, to add any thing
else to one above another.

§. 16. Thirdly, a system of incogitative matter, cannot be
cogitative, — Thirdly, If then neither one peculiar atom alone
can be this eternal thinking Being, nor all matter, as niatter,
i. e. every particle of matter can be it, it only remains, that it is
some certain system of matter duly put together, that is this
thinking eternal Being. This is that which, I imagine, is that
notion which men are aptest to have of God ; who would have
him a material Being, as most readily suggested to them, by the
ordinary conceit they have of themselves, and other men, which
they take to be material thinking beings. But this imagination,
however more natural, is no less absurd than the other : for to
suppose the eternal thinking Being, to be nothing else but a
composition of particles of matter, each whereof is cogitative,
is to ascribe all the wisdom and knowledge of that eternal
Being only to the juxta-position of parts; than which, nothino-
can be more absurd. For unthinking particles of matter,
however put together, can have nothing thereby added to them,
but a new relation of position, which it is impossible should
give thought and knowledge to them.

§. 17. Whether in motion, or at rest. — But farther, this
corporeal system either has all its parts at rest, or it is a certain
motion of the parts wherein its thinking consists. If it be
perfectly at rest, it is but one lump, and so can have no privi-
leges above one atom.

If it be the motion of its parts on which its thinking depends,
all the thoughts there, must be unavoidably accidental and

N N 2

548 KNOWLEDGE OF Book 4.

limited, since all the particles that by motion cause thought,
being each of them in itself without any thought, cannot regu-
late its o--vn motions, much less be regulated by the thought of
the whole, since that thought is not the cause of motion (for
then it must be antecedent to it, and so without it), but the
consequence of it, whereby freedom, power, choice, and all
rational and wise thinking or acting, will be quite taken away :
so that such a thinking being will be no better, nor wiser, than
pure blind matter, since to resolve all into the accidental un-
guided motions of blind matter, or into thought depending on
unguided motions of blind matter, is the same thing ; not to
mention the narrowness of such thoughts and knowledge that
must depend on the motion of such parts. But there needs no
enumeration of any more absurdities and impossibilities in this
hypothesis (however full of them it be), than that before-
mentioned ; since let this thinking system be all, or a part of,
the matter of the universe, it is impossible that any one particle
should either know its own, or the motion of any other, particle,
or the whole know the motion of every particle: and so regu-
late its own thoughts or motions, or indeed have any thought
resulting from such motion.

§. 18. Matter not co-eternal with an eternal mind. — Others
would have matter to be eternal, notwithstanding that they allow
an eternal, cogitative, immaterial Being. This, though it take
not away the being of a God, yet since it denies one and the
first great piece of his workmanship, the creation, let us con-
sider it a little. Matter must be allowed eternal; why? because
you cannot conceive how it can be made out of nothing ; why
do you not also think yourself eternal ? You will answer,
perhaps, because about twenty or forty years since, you began
to be. But if I ask you what that you is, which began then to
be? you can scarce tell me. The matter whereof you are made,
began not then to be ; for if it did, then it is not eternal ; but
it began to be put together in such a fashion and frame as
makes up your body ; but yet that frame of particles is not you,
it makes not that thinking thing you are (for I have now to do
with one, who allows an eternal, immaterial, thinking Being, but
would have unthinking matter eternal too) ; therefore when did
that thinking thing begin to be ? If it did never begin to be,
then have you always been a thinking thing from eternity ; the
absurdity whereof I need not confute, till I meet with one who
is so void of understanding, as to own it. If, therefore, you can
allow a thinking thing to be made out of nothing (as all things
that are not eternal must be), why also can you not allow it
possible for a material Being to be made out of nothing, by an

Ch. 10. THE EXISTENCE OF A GOD. 549

equal power, but that you have the experience of the one in
view, and not ot" the other ? Though, when weil considered,
creation of a spirit will be found to require no less power than
the creation of matter. Nay, possibly, if we would emancipate
ourselves from vulgar notions, and raise our thoughts as far as
they would reach, to a closer contemplation of things, we might
be able to aim at some dim and seeming conception how matter
might at first be made, and begin to exist, by the power of that
eternal first Being ; but to give beginning and being to a spirit,
would be found a more inconceivable eifect of omnipotent
power. But this being what would perhaps lead us too far
from the notions on which the philosophy now in the world is
built, it would not be pardonable to deviate so far from them,
or to enquire so far as grammar itself would authorize, if the
common settled opinion opposes it ; especially in this place,
where the received doctrine serves well enough to our present
purpose, and leaves this past doubt, that the creation or begin-
ning of any one substance out of nothing, being once admitted,
the creation of all other, but the Creator himself, may, with the
same ease, be supposed.

§. 19. But you will say, is it not impossible to admit of the
making any thing out of nothing, since we cannot possibly con-
ceive it? I answer. No ; 1, Because it is not reasonable to deny
the power of an infinite Being, because we cannot comprehend its
operations. We do not deny other effects upon this ground, be-
cause we cannot possibly conceive the manner of their production.
We cannot conceive how any thing but impulse of body can move
body ; and yet that is not a reason sufficient to make us deny it
possible, against the constant experience we have of it in our-
selves, in all our voluntary motions, which are produced in us
only by the free action or thought of our own minds ; and are
not, nor can be, the effects of the impulse or determination of the
motion of blind matter, in or upon our bodies ; ior then it could
not be in our power or choice to alter it. For example : my
right hand writes, whilst my left hand is still ; what causes rest
in one, and motion in the other? Nothing but my will, a thought
of my mind ; my thought only changing, the right hand rests,
and the left hand moves. This is matter of fact, which cannot
be denied : explain this, and make it intelligible, and then the
next step will be to understand creation : for the giving a new
determination to the motion of the animal spirits (which some
make use of to explain voluntary motion), clears not the diffi-
culty one jot : to alter the determination of motion, being in this
case no easier nor less than to give motion itself; since the new
determination given to the animal spirits, must be either imme-

N N 3

550 KNOWLEDGE OF Book 4.

diately by thought, or by some other body put in their way by
thought, which was not in their way before, and so must owe
its motion to thought ; either of which leaves voluntary motion
as unintelligible as it was before. In the mean time, it is an
over-valuing ourselves, to reduce all to the narrow measure of
our capacities ; and to conclude all things impossible to be
done, whose manner of doing exceeds our comprehension. This
is to make our comprehension infinite, or God finite, when what
he can do, is limited to what we can conceive of it. If you do
not understand the operations of your own finite mind, that
tJiinking thing within you, do not deem it strange that you
cannot comprehend the operations of that eternal infinite mind,
who made and governs all things, and whom the heaven of
heavens cannot contain.

CHAPTER XI.

OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE EXISTENCE OF OTHER THIN GS.

«

§.1. li is to he had only hy sensation. — The knowledge of
our own being, we have by intuition. The existence of a God,
reason clearly makes known to us, as has been shown.

The knowledge of the existence of any other thing, we can
have only by sensation : for there being no necessary connexion
of real existence, with any idea a man hath in his memory, nor
of any other existence but that of God, with the existence of
any particular man ; no particular man can know the existence
of any other being, but only when by actual operating upon
him, it makes itself perceived by him. For the having the idea
of any thing in our mind, no more proves the existence of that
thing, than the picture of a man evidences his being in the
world, or the visions of a dream make thereby a true history.

§. 2. Instance, whiteness of this paper. — It is therefore the
actual receiving of ideas from without, that gives us notice of
the existence of other things, and makes us know, that some-
thing doth exist at that time without us, which causes that idea
in us, though perhaps we neither know nor consider how it
does it : for it takes not from the certainty of our senses, and
the ideas we receive by them, that we know not the manner
wherein they are produced ; v. g. whilst I write this, I have,
by the paper affecting my eyes, that idea produced in my mind,
which, whatever object causes, I call white; by which I know
that that quality or accident (i. e. whose appearance before my

Ck. U. THE EXISTENCE OF OTHER THINGS. 551

eyes always causes that idea) doth really exist, and hath a being
without me. And of this the greatest assurance I can possibly
have, and to which my faculties can attain, is the testimony of
my eyes, which are the proper and sole judges of this thing,
whose testimony I have reason to rely on, as so certain, that I
can no more doubt, whilst I write this, that I see white and
black, and that something really exists that causes that sensa-
tion in me, than that I write or move my hand; which is a
certainty as great as human nature is capable of, concerning
the existence of any thing, but a man's self alone, and of
God.

§. 3. This, though not so certain as demonstration, yet may
be called knowledge, and proves the existence of things without us.
— The notice we have by our senses, of the existing of things
without us, though it be not altogether so certain as our intui-
tive knowledge, or the deductions of our reason, employed
about the clear abstract ideas of our own minds ; yet it is an
assurance that deserves the name of knowledge. If we persuade
ourselves, that our faculties act and inform us right concerning
the existence of those objects that affect them, it cannot pass
for an ill-grounded confidence : for I think nobody can, in
earnest, be so sceptical, as to be uncertain of the existence of
those things which he sees and feels. At least, he that can
doubt so far (whatever he may have with his ow^n thoughts),
will never have any controversy with me ; since he can never be
sure I say any thing contrary to his own opinion. As to myself,
I think God has given me assurance enough of the existence of
things without me ; since by their different application, I can
produce in myself both pleasure and pain, which is one great
concernment of my present state. • This is certain, the confi-
dence that our faculties do not herein deceive us, is the greatest
assurance we are capable of, concerning the existence of mate-
rial beings. For we cannot act any thing, but by our faculties ;
nor talk of knowledge itself, but by the helps of those faculties
which are fitted to apprehend even what knowledge is. But
besides the assurance we have from our senses themselves, that
they do not err in the information they give us of the existence
of things without us, when they are affected by them, we
are farther confirmed in this assurance, by other concurrent
reasons.

§. 4. First, because we cannot have them but by the inlet of
the senses. — First, It is plain those perceptions are produced in
us by exterior causes affecting our senses ; because those that
want the organs of any sense, never can have the ideas belong-
ing to that sense prodviced in their minds. This is too evident

N N 4

552 KNOWLEDGE OF Book 4.

to be doubted ; and therefore we cannot but be assured, that
they come in by the organs of that sense, and no other way.
The organs themselves, it is plain, do not produce them ; for
then the eyes of a man in the dark, would produce colours, and
his nose smell roses in the winter : but we see nobody gets the
relish of a pine-apple, till he goes to the Indies, where it is, and
tastes it.

§. 5. Secondly, because an idea from actual sensation, and
another from memory, are very distinct perceptions. — Secondly,
Because sometimes I find, that I cannot avoid the having those
ideas produced in my mind : for though when my eyes are shut,
or windows fast, I can at pleasure recal to my mind the ideas of
light, or the sun, which former sensations had lodged in my
memory ; so I can at pleasure lay by that idea, and take into
my view that of the smell of a rose, or taste of sugar. But if I
turn my eyes at noon towards the sun, I cannot avoid the ideas
which the light or the sun then produces in me. So that there
is a manifest difference between the ideas laid up in my memory
(over which, if they were there only, I should have constantly
the same power to dispose of them, and lay them by at pleasure),
and. those which force themselves upon me, and I cannot avoid
having. And therefore it must needs be some exterior cause,
and the brisk acting of some objects without me, whose efficacy
I cannot resist, that produces those ideas in my mind, whether
I will or no. Besides, there is nobody who doth not perceive
the difference in himself, between contemplating the sun, as he
hath the idea of it in his memory, and actually looking upon it :
of which two, his perception is so distinct, that few of his ideas
are more distinguishable one from another: and therefore he
hath certain knowledge, that they are not both memory, or the
actions of his mind, and fancies only within him ; but that actual
seeing hath a cause without.

§. 6. TJiirdly,pleasure or pain, which accompanies actual sen-
sation, accotnpanies not the returning of those ideas ivithout the ex-
ternal objects.— Thirdly, Add to this, that many of those ideas are
produced in us with pain, which afterwards we remember without
the least offence. Thus the pain of heat or cold, when the idea
of it is revived in our minds, gives us no disturbance ; which,
when felt, was very troublesome, and is again, when actually re-
peated ; which is occasioned by the disorder the external object
causes in our bodies, when applied to it. And we remember the
pains of hunger, thirst, or the head-ach, without any pain at all ;
which would either never disturb us, or else constantly do it, as
often as we thought of it, were there nothing more than ideas
floating in our minds, and appearances entertaining our fancies.

Ch. 11. THE EXISTENCE OF OTHER THINGS. 553

without the real existence of thinsfs afFectins: us from abroad.
The same may be said of pleasure, accompanying several actual
sensations ; and though mathematical demonstrations depend not
upon sense, yet the examining them by diagrams, gives
great credit to the evidence of our sight, and seems to give
it a certainty approaching to that of demonstration itself.
For it would be very strange, that a man should allow it for an
undeniable truth, that two angles of a figure, which he measures
by lines and angles of a diagram, should be bigger one than the
other ; and yet doubt of the existence of those lines and
angles, which by looking on, he makes use of to measure
that by.

§. 7. Fourtlily, our senses assist one another's testimony of the
existence of outward things. — Fourthly, Our senses, in many
cases, bear witness to the truth of each other's report, con-
cerning the existence of sensible things without us. He that
sees a fire, may, if he doubt whether it be any thing more than
a bare fancy, feel it too ; and be convinced, by putting his
hand in it. Which certainly could never be put into such ex-
quisite pain by a bare idea or phantom, unless that the pain be a
fancy too ; which yet he cannot, when the burn is well, by
raising the idea of it, bring upon himself again.

Thus I see whilst I write this, I can change the appearance
of the paper ; and by designing the letters, tell before-hand,
what new idea it shall exhibit the very next moment, by barely
drawing ray pen over it ; which will neither appear (let me fancy
as much as I will), if my hand stand still; or though I move my
pen, if my eyes be shut ; nor when those characters are once
made on the paper, can I choose afterwards but see them
as they are ; that is, have the ideas of such letters as I have
made. Whence it is manifest, that they are not barely the
sport and play; of my own imagination, when I find that the
characters that were made at the pleasure of my own thought,
do not obey them ; nor yet cease to be, whenever I shall fancy
it, but continue to affect the senses constantly and regularly,
according to the figures I made them. To which if we will
add, that the sight of those shall, from another man, draw such
sounds as I before-hand design they shall stand for, there will
be little reason left to doubt that those words I write do really
exist without me, when they cause a long series of regular
sounds to affect my ears, which could not be the efiect of
my imagination, nor could my memory retain them in that
order.

§. 8. This certainty is as great as our condition needs.— B\xi

554 KNOAV LEDGE OF Book 4.

yet, if after all this, any one will be so sceptical as to distrust
his senses, and to affirm, that all we see and hear, feel and taste,
think and do, during our whole being, is but the series and
deluding appearances of a long dream, whereof there is no reality,
and therefore will question the existence of all things, or our
knowledge of any thing ; I must desire him to consider, that if
all be a dream, that he doth but dream that he makes the
question ; and so it is not much matter that a waking man
should answer him. But yet, if he pleases, he may dream that
I make him this answer. That the certainty of things existing in
rerum natura, when we have the testimony of our senses for it,
is not only as great as our frame can attain to, but as our
condition needs. For our faculties being suited not to the full
extent of being, nor to a perfect, clear, comprehensive know-
ledge of things, free from all doubt and scruple, but to the
preservation of us, in whom they are, and accommodated to the
use of life; they serve to our purpose well enough, if they will
but give us certain notice of those things which are convenient
or inconvenient to us. For he that sees a candle burning, and hath
experimented the force of its flame, by putting his finger in it, will
little doubt that this is something existing without him, which
does him harm, and puts him to great pain ; which is assurance
enough, when no man requires greater certainty to govern his
actions by, than what is as certain as his actions themselves.
And if our dreamer pleases to try whether the glowing heat
of a glass furnace, be barely a wandering imagination in a
drowsy man's fancy, by putting his hand into it, he may, per-
haps, be wakened into a certainty greater than he could wish,
that it is something more than bare imagination. So that
this evidence is as great as we can desire, being as certain to
us as our pleasure or pain, i. e. happiness or misery : beyond
which we have no concernment, either of knowing or being.
Such an assurance of the existence of things without us, is
sufficient to direct us in the attaining the good, and avoiding
the evil, which is caused by them ; which is the important con-
cernment we have of being made acquainted with them.

§. 9. But reaches no farther than actual sensation. — In fine,
then, when our senses do actually convey into our under-
standings any idea, we cannot but be satisfied that there doth
something at that time really exist without us, which doth affect
our senses, and by them give notice of itself to our apprehen-
sive faculties, and actually produce that idea which we then
perceive ; and we cannot so far distrust their testimony, as to
doubt that such collections of simple ideas, as we have observed
by our senses to be united together, do really exist together.

Ch. 11. THE EXISTENCE OF OTHER THINGS. 555

But this knowledge extends as far as the present testimony of
our senses, employed about particular objects, that do then
affect them, and no farther. For if I saw such a collection of
simple ideas, as is wont to be called man, existing together one
minute since, and am now alone, I cannot be certain that the
same man exists now, since there is no necessary connexion of
his existence a minute since, with his existence now. By a
thousand ways he may cease to be, since I had the testimony
of my senses for his existence. And if I cannot be certain that
the man I saw last to-day, is now in being, I 'can less be certain
that he is so, who hath been longer removed from my senses,
and I have not seen since yesterday, or since the last year ; and
much less can I be certain of the existence of men that I never
saw. And, therefore, though it be highly probable that millions
of men do now exist, yet whilst I am alone writing this, I have
not that certainty of it, which we strictly call knowledge;
though the great likelihood of it puts me past doubt, and it be
reasonable for me to do several things upon the confidence that
there are men (and men also of my acquaintance, with whom I
have to do) now in the world : but this is but probability, not
knowledge.

§. 10. Folly to expect demonstration in every thing. — Whereby
yet we may observe how foolish and vain a thing it is for a man
of a narrow knowledge, who having reason given him to judge
of the different evidence and probability of things, and to be
swayed accordingly ; how vain, I say, it is to expect demon-
stration and certainty in things not capable of it, and refuse
assent to very rational propositions, and act contrary to very
plain and clear truths, because they cannot be made out so
evident, as to surmount every the least (I will not say reason,
but) pretence of doubting. He that in the ordinary affairs of
life, would admit of nothing but direct plain demonstration,
would be sure of nothing in this world, but of perishing quickly.
The wholesomeness of his meat or drink, would not give him
reason to venture on it : and I would fain know what it is he
could do upon such grounds as were capable of no doubt, no
objection.

§. 11. Past existence is known by memory. — As when our
senses are actually employed about any object, we do know that
it does exist; so by our memory, we may be assured, that
heretofore things that affected our senses have existed. And
thus we have knowledge of the past existence of several things,
whereof our senses having informed us, our memories still retain
the ideas : and of this we are past all doubt, so long as we
remember well. But this knowledge also reaches no farther

556 KNOWLEDGE OF Book A.

than our senses have formerly assured us. Thus seeing v.ater
at this instant, it is an unquestionable truth to me, that water
doth exist: and remembering that I saw it yesterday, it will
also be always true ; and as long as my memory retains it,
always an undoubted proposition to me, that water did exist on
the 10th of July, 1688 ; as it will also be equally true, that a
number of very fine colours did exist, which, at the same time,
I saw upon a bubble of that water: but being now quite out of
the sight both of the water and bubbles too, it is no more
certainly known to me, that the water doth now exist, than that
the bubbles or colours therein do so ; it being no more necessary
that water should exist to-day, because it existed yesterday,
than that the colours or bubbles exist to-day, because they
existed yesterday ; though it be exceedingly much more pro-
bable, because water hath been observed to continue long in
existence, but bubbles, and the colours on them, quickly cease
to be.

§. 12. The existence of spirits not knowahle. — What ideas
we have of spirits, and how we come by them, I have already
shown. But though we have those ideas in our minds, and
know we have them there, the having the ideas of spirits
does not make us know that any such things do exist without
us, or that there are any finite spirits, or any other spiritual
beings, but the eternal God. We have ground from revelation,
and several other reasons, to believe with assurance, that there
are such creatures ; but our senses not being able to discover
them, we want the means of knowing their particular exist-
ences. For we can no more know that there are finite spirits
really existing, by the idea we have of such beings in our
minds, than by the ideas any one has of fairies, or centaurs,
he can come to know that things answering those ideas do
really exist.

And therefore concerning the existence of finite spirits, as
well as several other things, we must content ourselves with the
evidence of faith ; but universal certain propositions concerning
this matter, are beyond our reach. For however true it may
be, V. g. that all the intelligent spirits that God ever created,
do still exist ; yet it can never make a part of our certain
knowledge. These, and the like propositions, we may assent
to, as highly probable ; but are not, I fear, in this state, capable
of knowing. We are not then to put others upon demonstrating,
nor ourselves upon search of universal certainty in all those
matters wherein we are not capable of any other knowledge, but
what our senses give us in this or that particular.

§. 13. Particular propositions concerning existence, are

CA. 11. THE EXISTENCE OF OTHER THINGS. 557

knotvahle. — By which it appears, that there are two sorts of
propositions. 1, There is one sort of propositions concerning
the existence of any thing answerable to such an idea ; as
having the idea of an elephant, plioenix, motion, or an angel, in
my mind, the first and natural enquiry is, whether such a thing-
does any where exist? And this knowledge is only of parti-
culars. No existence of any thing without vis, but only of
God, can certainly be known farther than our senses inform us.
2, There is another sort of propositions, wherein is expressed
the agreement or disagreement of our abstract ideas, and their
dependence on one another. Such propositions may be uni-
versal or certain. So having the idea of God and myself,
of fear and obedience, I cannot but be sure that God is to
be feared and obeyed by me : and this proposition will be
certain concerning man in general, if I have made an abstract
idea of such a species, whereof I am one particular. But yet
this proposition, how certain soever, that men ought to fear and
obey God, proves not to me the existence of men in the
world, but will be true of all such creatures, whenever they do
exist : which certainty of such general propositions, depends
on the agreement or disagreement to be discovered in those
abstract ideas.

§. 14. A?id general propositions concerning abstract ideas. — In
the former case, our knowledge is the consequence of the ex-
istence of things producing ideas in our minds by our senses :
in the latter, knowledge is the consequence of the ideas (be
they what they will) that are in our minds producing their
general certain propositions. Many of these are called ceternce
veritates, and all of them indeed are so ; not from being written
all or any of them in the minds of all men, or that they were
any of them propositions in one's mind, till he, having got
the abstract ideas, joined or separated them by affirmation or
negation. But wheresoever we can suppose such a creature as
man is, endowed with such faculties, and thereby furnished with
such ideas as we have, we must conclude, he must needs, when
he applies his thoughts to the consideration of his ideas, know
the truth of certain propositions, that will arise from the agree-
ment or disagreement which he will perceive in his own ideas.
Such propositions are therefore called eternal truths, not
because they are eternal propositions actually formed, and
antecedent to the understanding, that at any time makes them ;
nor because they are imprinted on the mind from any patterns
that are any where out of the mind, and existed before :
but because being once made about abstract ideas, so as to be
true, they will, whenever they can be supposed to be made

658 IMPROVEMENT OF OUR KNOWLEDGE. Uook 4.

again at any time past or to come, by a mind having those
ideas, always actually be true. For names being supposed to
stand perpetually for the same ideas ; and the same ideas having
immutably the same habitudes one to another ; propositions
concerning any abstract ideas, that are once true, must needs
be eternal verities.

CHAPTER XII.

OF THE IMPROVEMENT OF OUR KNOWLEDGE.

§. 1. Knowledge is not from maxims. — It having been the
common received opinion among men of letters, that maxims
were the foundation of all knowledge ; and that the sciences
were each of them built upon certain pracognita, from whence
the understanding was to take its rise, and by which it was to
conduct itself, in its enquiries into the matters belonging to
that science ; the beaten road of the schools has been to lay
down in the beg'inning, one or more general propositions, as
foundations whereon to build the knowledge that was to be had
of that subject. These doctrines thus laid down for foundations
of any science, were called principles, as the beginnings from
which we must set out, and look no farther backwards in our
enquiries, as we have already observed.

§. 2. The occasion of that opinion. — One thing which might
probably give an occasion to this way of proceeding in other
sciences, was (as I suppose) the good success it seemed to have
in mathematics, wherein men being observed to attain a great
certainty of knowledge, these sciences came by pre-eminence
to be called M.ci%[i.cilci and Mx^hViCiQ, learning, or things learned,
thoroughly learned, as having, of all others, the greatest cer-
tainty, clearness, and evidence, in them.

^. 3. But from the comparing clear and distinct ideas. — But
if any one will consider, he will (I guess) find that the great
advancement and certainty of real knowledge, which men ar-
rived to in these sciences, was not owing to the influence of
these principles, nor derived from any peculiar advantage they
received from two or three general maxims laid down in the
beginning ; but from the clear, distinct, complete ideas their
thoughts were employed about, and the relation of equality and
excess so clear between some of them, that they had an intuitive
knowledge, and by that, a way to discover it in others, and this
without the help of those maxims. For I ask, is it not possible
for a young lad to know that his whole body is bigger than his

Ch. 12. IMPROVEMENT OF OUR KNOWLEDGE. 559

little finger, but by virtue of this axiom, "that the whole is
bigger than a part ;" nor be assured of it, until he has learned
that maxim ? Or cannot a country wench know, that having
received a shillino- from one that owes her three, and a shilling
also from another that owes her three, the remaining debts in
each of their hands are equal ? Cannot she know this, I say,
unless she fetch the certainty of it from this maxim, that " if
you take equals from equals, the remainder will be equals ?" a
max^m which possibly she never heard or thought of. I desire
any one to consider, from v/hat has been elsewhere said, which
is known first and clearest by most people, the particular in-
stance, or the general rule ; and which it is that gives life and
birth to the other. These general rules are but the comparing
our more general and abstract ideas, which are the workmanship
of the mind made, and names given to them, for the easier dis-
patch in its reasonings, and drawing into comprehensive terms,
and short rules, its various and multiplied observations. But
knowledge began in the mind, and was founded on particulars ;
though afterwards, perhaps, no notice be taken thereof; it being
natural for the mind (forward still to enlarge its knowledge)
most attentively to lay up those general notions, and make the
proper use of them, which is to disburthen the memory of the
cumbersome load of particulars. For I desire it may be con-
sidered w^hat more certainty there is to a child, or any one, that
his body, little finger and all, is bigger than his little finger
alone, after you have given to his body the name whole, and to
his little finger the name part, than he could have had before ;
or what new knowledge concerning his body, can these two
relative terms give him, which he could not have without them ?
Could he not know that his body was bigger than his little finder,
if his^ language were yet so imperfect, that he had no such rela-
tive terms as whole and part ? I ask farther, when he has got
these names, how is he more certain that his body is a whole,
and his little finger a part, than he was, or might be, certain,
before he learned those terms, that his body was bigo-er than his
little finger ? Any one may as reasonably doubt or deny, that
his little finger is a part of his body, as that it is less than his
body. And he that can doubt whether it be less, will as cer-
tainly doubt whether it be a part. So that the maxim, " the
v/hole is bigger than a part," can never be made use of to prove
the little finger is less than the body, but when it is useless, by
being brought to convince one of a truth which he knows al-
ready. .For he that does not certainly know that any parcel of
matter, with another parcel of matter joined to it, is bigger than
either of them alone, will never be able to know it by the help

.560 IMPROVEMENT OF OUR KNOWLEDGE. Book 4.

of these two relative terms, whole and part, make of them what
maxim you please.

§. 4. Dangerous to build upon precarious ])i'inciples. — But be
it in the mathematics as it will, whether it l)e clearer, that
taking an inch from a black line of two inches, and an inch
from a red line of two inches, the remaining parts of the two
lines will be equal ; or that if you take equals from equals, the
remainder will be equals; which, I say, of these, two is the
clearer and first known, I leave it to any one to determine, it not
being material to my present occasion. That which I have here
to do, is to enquire, whether if it be the readiest way to know-
ledge, to begin with general maxims, and build upon them, it be
yet a safe way to take the principles, which are laid down in any
other science, as unquestionable truths ; and so receive them
without examination, and adhere to them without suffering them
to be doubted, because mathematicians have been so happy, or
so fair, to use none but self-evident and undeniable ? If this be
so, I know not what may not pass for truth in morality, what
may not be introduced and proved in natural philosophy.

Let that principle of some of the philosophers, that all is
matter, and that there is nothing else, be received for certain
and indubitable, and it will be easy to be seen by the writings
of some that have revived it again in our days, what conse-
quences it will lead us into. Let any one, with Polemo, take
the world : or with the stoics, the aether, or the sun ; or with
Anaximenes, the air ; to be a God ; and what a divinity, religion,
and worship, must we needs have ! Nothing can be so dangerous
as principles thus taken up without questioning or examination;
especially if they be such as concern morality, which influence
men's lives, and give a bias to all their actions. Who might
not justly expect another kind of life in Aristippus, who placed
happiness in bodily pleasure ; and in Antisthenes, who made
virtue sufficient to felicity ? And he who, with Plato, shall
place beatitude in the knowledge of God, will have his thoughts
raised to other contemplations than those who look not beyond
this spot of earth, and those perishing things which are to be
had in it. He that, with Archelaus, shall lay it down as a prin-
ciple, that right and wrong, honest and dishonest, are defined
only by laws, and not by nature, will have other measures of
moral rectitude and pravity, than those who take it for granted,
that we are under obligations antecedent to all human consti-
tutions.

§. 5. This is no certain way to truth. — If therefore those that
pass for principles, are not certain (which we must have some
way to know, that we may be able to distinguish them from

Ch. 12. IIVIPROVEMENT OF OUR KNOWLEDGE. 661

those that are doubtful), but are only made so to us by our blind
assent, we are liable to be misled by them ; and instead of being
guided into truth, we shall, by principles, be only confirmed in
mistake and error.

§. 6. But to compare clear complete ideas under steady names.
— But since the knowledge of the certainty of principles, as
well as of all other truths, depends only upon the perception we
have of the agreement or disagreement of our ideas, the way
to improve our knowledge, is not, I am sure, blindly, and with
an implicit faith, to receive and swallow principles ; but is, I
think, to get and fix in our minds clear, distinct, and complete
ideas, as far as they are to be had, and annex to them proper
and constant names. And thus, perhaps, without any other
principles, but barely considering those ideas, and by comparing
them one with another, finding their agreement or disagreement,
and then- several relations and habitudes, we shall get more
true and clear knowledge by the conduct of this one rule, than
by taking up principles, and thereby putting our minds into the
disposal of others.

§ . 7 . The true method of advancing knoivledge, is hy considering
our abstract ideas. — We must therefore, if we will proceed
as reason advises, adapt our methods of enquiry to the nature of
the ideas we examine, and the truth we search after. General
and certain truths are only founded in the habitudes and rela-
tions of abstract ideas. A sagacious and methodical application
of our thoughts, for the finding out these relations, is the only
way to discover all that can be put with truth and certainty con-
cerning them, into general propositions. By what steps we are
to proceed in these, is to be learned in the schools of the mathe-
maticians, who, from very plain and easy beginnings, by gentle
degrees, and a continued chain of reasonings, proceed to the
discovery and demonstration of truths that appear at first sight
beyond human capacity. The art of finding proofs, and the ad-
mirable methods they have invented for the singling out, and
laying in order, those intermediate ideas that demonstratively
show the equality or inequality of unapplicable quantities, is
that which has carried them so far, and produced such wonderful
and unexpected discoveries : but whether something like this,
in respect of other ideas, as well as those, of magnitude, may
not in time be found out, I will not determine. This, I think,
1 may say, that if other ideas, that are the real as well as no-
minal essences of their species, were pursued in the way familiar
to mathematicians, they would carry our thoughts farther, and
with greater evidence and clearness, than possibly we are apt to
imagine.

o o

502 IMPROVEMENT OF OUR KNOWLEDGE. Book ^.

§. 8. By which morality also may he made clearer. — This gave
me the confidence to advance that conjecture which I suggest,
chap. 3, viz., " That morality is capable of demonstration, as well
as mathematics." For the ideas that ethics are conversant
about, being all real essences, and such as, I imagine, have a dis-
coverable connexion and agreement one with another ; so far as
we can find their habitudes and relations, so far we shall be pos-
sessed of certain, real, and general truths ; and I doubt not, but
if a right method were taken, a great part of morality might be
made out with that clearness, that could leave, to a considering
man, no more reason to doubt, than he could have to doubt of
the truth of propositions in mathematics, which have been
demonstrated to him.

§. 9. But knowledge of bodies is to be improved only by expe-
rience.— In our search after the knowledge of substances, our
want of ideas, that are suitable to such a way of proceeding,
obliges us to a quite different method. We advance not here,
as in the other (where our abstract ideas are real, as well as
nominal, essences), by contemplating our ideas, and considering
their relations and correspondencies ; that helps us very- little,
for the reasons that in another place we have at large set down.
By which, I think, it is evident, that substances afford matter of
very little general knowledge ; and the bare contemplation of
their abstract ideas, will carry us but a very little way in the
search of truth and certainty. What then are we to do for the
improvement of our knowledge in substantial beings ? Here we
are to take a quite contrary course ; the want of ideas of their
real essences, sends us from our own thoughts, to the things
themselves, as they exist. Experience here must teach me what
reason cannot ; and it is by trying alone, that I can certainly
know what other qualities co-exist with those of my complex
idea, v. g. whether that yellow, heavy, fusible body, I call
gold, be malleable or no ? which experience (which way ever
it prove in that particular body I examine) makes me not
certain that it is so in all or any other yellow, heavy, fusible
bodies, but that which I have tried. Because it is no conse-
quence one way or the other, from my complex idea ; the ne-
cessity or inconsistence of malleability hath no visible con-
nexion with the combination of that colour, weight, and fusi-
bility in any body. What I have said here of the nominal
essence of gold, supposed to consist of a body of such a deter-
minate colour, weight, and fusibility, will hold true, if malle-
ableness, fixedness, and solubility in aqua regia, be added to it.
Our reasonings from these ideas will carry us but a little way in
the certain discovery of the otlier properties in those masses of

Ch. 12. IMPROVEMENT OF OUR KNOWLEDGE. 5Q3

matter, wherein all these are to be found. Because the other
properties of such bodies depending not on these, but on that
unknown real essence, on which these also depend, we cannot
by them discover the rest ; we can go no farther than the simple
ideas of our nominal essence will carry us, which is very little
beyond themselves ; and so afford us but very sparingly any
certain, universal, and useful truths. For upon trial, having
found that particular piece (and all others of that colour, weight,
and fusibility, that I ever tried) malleable, that also makes now,
perhaps, a part of my complex idea, part of my nominal essence,
of gold ; whereby, though I make my complex idea, to which I
affix the name gold, to consist of more simple ideas than before;
yet still, it not containing the real essence of any species of
bodies, it helps me not certainly to know (I say to know, per-
haps it may to conjecture) the other remaining properties of
that body, farther than they have a visible connexion with some
or all of the simple ideas that make up my nominal essence.
For example ; I cannot be certain from this complex idea,
whether gold be fixed or no ; because, as before, there is no
necessary connexion or inconsistence to be discovered betwixt
a complex idea of a body yellow, heavy, fusible, malleable,
betwixt these, I say, and fixedness ; so that I may certainly
know, that in whatsoever body these are found, there fixedness
is sure to be. Here again, for assurance, I must apply myself
to experience ; as far as that reaches, I may have certain know-
ledge, but no farther.

§. 10. This may procure us convenience, not science, — I deny
not, but a man accustomed to rational and regular experiments,
shall be able to see farther into the nature of bodies, and guess
righter at their yet unknown properties, than one that is a
stranger to them ; but yet, as I have said, this is but judgment
and opinion, not knowledge and.certainty. This way of getting
and improving our knowledge in substances only by experience
and history, which is all that the weakness of our faculties in
this state of mediocrity, which we are in in this world, can attain
to, makes me suspect that natural philosophy is not capable of
being made a science. We are able, I imagine, to reach very
little general knowledge concerning the species of bodies, and
their several properties. Experiments and historical observations
we may have, from which we may draw advantages of ease and
health, and thereby increase our stock of conveniences for this
life ; but beyond this, I fear our talents reach not, nor aie our
faculties, as I guess, able to advance.

§. 11. We are Jitted for moral knowledge and natural im-
provements.— From whence it is obvious to conclude, that since

o o 2

664 IMPROVEMENT OF OUR KNOAVLEDGE. Book 4.

our faculties are not fitted to penetrate into the internal
fabric and real essences of bodies ; but yet plainly discover
to us the being of a God, and the knowledge of ourselves,
enough to lead us into a full and clear discovery of our duty
and great concernment ; it will become us, as rational creatures,
to employ those faculties we have, about what they are most
adapted to, and follow the direction of nature, where it seems
to point us out the way. For it is rational to conclude, that our
proper employment lies in those enquiries, and in that sort of
knowledge which is most suited to our natural capacities, and
carries in it our greatest interest, i. e. the condition of our
eternal estate. Hence I think I may conclude, that morality
is the proper science and business of mankind in general (who
are both concerned and fitted to search out their summum honum),
as several arts, conversant about several parts of nature, are the
lot and private talent of particular men, for the common use of
human life, and their own particular subsistence in this world.
Of what consequence the discovery of one natural body and its
properties may be to human life, the whole great continent of
America is a convincing instance ; whose ignorance in useful
arts, and want of the greatest part of the conveniences of life,
in a country that abounded with all sorts of natural plenty, I
think may be attributed to their ignorance of what was to be
found in a very ordinary despicable stone, I mean the mineral
of iron. And whatever we think of our parts or improvements
in this part of the world, where knowledge and plenty seem to
vie with each other ; yet to any one that will seriously reflect on
it, I suppose it will appear past doubt, that were the use of iron
lost among us, we should in a few ages be unavoidably reduced
to the wants and ignorance of the ancient savage Americans,
whose natural endowments and provisions come no way short of
those of the most flourishing and polite nations ; so that he who
first made known the use of that contemptible mineral, may
be truly styled the father of arts, and author of plenty.

§. 12. But must beware of hypotheses, and ivrotig ])rinciples.
— I would not therefore be thought to disesteem or dissuade the
study of nature. I readily agree, the contemplation of his
works give us occasion to admire, revere, and glorify their
Author : and if rightly directed, may be of greater benefit to
mankind, than the monuments of exemplary charity that have,
at so great charge, been raised by the founders of hospitals and
alms-houses. He that first invented printing, discovered the
use of the compass, or made public the virtue and right use of
kin kina, did more for the propagation of knowledge, for the
supply and encrease of useful commodities, and saved more

CA.12. IMPROVEMENT OF OUR KNOWLEDGE. 565

from the grave, than those who built colleges, work-house«, and
hospitals. All that I would say, is, that we should not be too
forwardly possessed with the opinion or expectation of know-
ledge, where it is not to be had, or by ways that will not attain
to it : that we should not take douljtful systems for complete
sciences ; nor unintelligible notions for scientifical demonstra-
tions. In the knowledge of bodies, we must be content to glean
what we can from particular experiments ; since we cannot,
from a discovery of their real essences, grasp at a time whole
sheaves; and in bundles comprehend the nature and properties
of whole species together. Where our enquiry is concerning
co-existence, or repugnancy to co-exist, which by contemplation
of our ideas we cannot discover; there experience, observation,
and natural history, must give us by our senses, and by retail,
an insight into corporeal substances. The knowledge of bodies
we must get by our senses, warily employed in taking notice of
their qualities and operations on one another : and what we hope
to know of separate spirits in this world, we must, I think, ex-
pect only from revelation. He that shall consider how little
general maxims, precarious principles, and hypotheses laid down
at pleasure, have promoted true knowledge, or helped to satisfy
the enquiries of rational men after real improvements ; how
little, I say, the setting out at that end has, for many ages to-
gether, advanced men's progress towards the knowledge of
natural philosophy ; will think we have reason to thank those,
who in this latter age have taken another course, and have trod
out to us, though not an easier way to learned ignorance, yet a
surer way to profitable knowledge.

§. 13. The true use of hypotheses. — Not that we may not,
to explain any phenomena of nature, make use of any probable
hypothesis whatsoever. Hypotheses, if they are well made, are
at least great helps to the memory, and often direct us to new
discoveries. But my meaning is, that we should not take up
any one too hastily (which the mind, that would always pene-
trate into the causes of things, and have principles to rest on,
is very apt to do), till we have very well examined particulars,
and made several experiments in that thing which we would ex-
plain by our hypotheses, and see whether it will agree to them
all ; whether our principles will carry us quite through, and not
be as inconsistent with one phenomenon of nature, as they seem
to accommodate and explain another. And at least that we
take care that the name of principles deceive us not, nor impose
upon us, by making us receive that for an unquestionable truth,
which is really, at best, but a very doubtful conjecture, such as are
most (I had almost said all) of the hypotheses in natural philosophy.

o o 3

566 IMPROVEMENT OF OUR KNOWLEDGE. Book A.

§. 14. Clear and distinct ideas with settled names, and the
finding of those which show their agreement or disagreement, are
the ways to enlarge our knowledge. — But whether natural philosophy
be capable of certainty or no, the ways to enlarge our knowledge,
as far as we are capable, seem to me, in short, to be these two :

First, The first is to get and settle in our minds determined ideas
of those things, whereof we have general or specific names ; at
least so many of them as we would consider and improve our know-
ledge in, or reason about. And if they be specific ideas of sub-
stances, we should endeavour also to make them as complete as we
can, whereby I mean, that we should put together as many simple
ideas, as being constantly observed to co-exist, may perfectly deter-
mine the species ; and each of those simple ideas, which are the in-
gredients of our complex ones, should be clear and distinct in
our minds : for it being evident that our knowledge cannot
exceed our ideas, as far as they are either imperfect, confused,
or obscure, we cannot expect to have certain, perfect, or clear
knowledge.

Secondly, The other is the art of finding out those intermediate
ideas, which may show us the agreement or repugnancy of other
ideas, which cannot be immediately compared.

§. 15. Mathematics an instance of it. — That these two (and
not the relying on maxims, and drawing consequences from
some general propositions) are the right methods of improving
our knowledge in the ideas of other modes, besides those of
quantity, the consideration of mathematical knowledge will
easily inform us. Where first we shall find, that he that has
not a perfect and clear idea of those angles or figures of which
he desires to know any thing, is utterly thereby incapable of
any knowledge about them. Suppose but a man not to have a
perfect exact idea of a right angle, a scalenum, or trapezium ;
and there is nothing more certain, than that he will in vain seek
any demonstration about them. Farther it is evident, that it
was not the influence of those maxims which are taken for
principles in mathematics, that hath led the masters of that
science into those wonderful discoveries they have made. Let
a man of good parts know all the maxims generally made use of in
mathematics ever so perfectly, and contemplate their extent and
consequences as much as he pleases, he will, by their assistance,
I suppose, scarce ever come to know, that the square of the
hypothenuse in a right-angled triangle, is equal to the squares of
the two other sides. The knowledge that " the whole is equal to
all its parts," and " if you take equals from equals, the remainder
will be equal," &c., helped him not, I presume, to this demon-
stration : and a man may, I think, pore long enough on those

CA. 13. FARTHER CONSIDERATIONS. 5f>7

axioms, without ever seeing one jot the more of mathematical
truths. They have been discovered by the truths otherwise ap-
plied ; the mind had other objects, other views before it, far
different from those maxims, when it first got the knowledge of
such kind of truths in mathematics, which men, well enough
acquainted with those received axioms, but ignorant of their
method who first made those demonstrations, can never sufficiently
admire. And who knows what methods, to enlarge our know-
ledge in other parts of science, may hereafter be invented,
answering that of algebra in mathematics, which so readily finds
out the ideas of quantities to measure others by, whose equality
or proportion we could otherwise very hardly, or perhaps never,
come to know ?

CHAPTER XIII.

SOME FARTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING
OUR KNOWLEDGE.

§. 1. Our knovjledge partly necessary, jjartly voluntary. —
Our knowledge, as in other things, so in this, has so great a con-
formity with our sight, that it is neither wholly necessary, nor
wholly voluntary. If our knowledge were altogether necessary,
all men's knowledge would not only be alike, but every man
would know all that is knowable ; and if it were wholly volun-
tary, some men so little regard or value it, that they would have
extreme little, or none at all. Men that have senses, cannot
choose but receive some ideas by them ; and if they have memory,
they cannot but retain some of them ; and if they have any
distinguishing faculty, cannot but perceive the agreement or
disagreement of some of them one with another; as he that has
eyes, if he- will open them by day, cannot but see some objects,
and perceive a difference in them. But though a man with his
eyes open in the light, cannot but see ; yet there be certain
objects, which he may choose whether he will turn his eyes to ;
there may be in his reach a book containing pictures and dis-
courses capable to delight or instruct him, which yet he may
never have the will to open, never take the pains to look into.

§. 2. The apjilicatioji voluntary ; but loe know as things are,
not as lue please. — There is also another thing in a man's
power, and that is, though he turns his eyes sometimes towards
an object, yet he may choose whether he will curiously survey
it, and with an intent application endeavour to observe accu-
rately all that is visible in it. But yet, what he does see, he

o o 4

568 FARTHER CONSIDERATIONS. Jiook 4.

cannot see otherwise than he does. It depends not on his will
to see that black which appears yellow ; nor to persuade himself,
that what actually scalds him, feels cold : the earth will not
appear painted with flowers, nor the fields covered with verdure,
whenever he has a mind to it : in the cold winter, he cannot
help seeing it white and hoary, if he will look abroad. Just
thus is it with our understanding ; all that is voluntary in our
knowledge, is the employing, or withholding, any of our faculties,
from this or that sort of objects, and a more or less accurate
survey of tliem ; but they being employed, our will hath no
power to determine the knowledge of the mind one way or
other; that is done only by the objects themselves, as far as
they are clearly discovered. And therefore, as far as men's
senses are conversant about external objects, the mind cannot
but receive those ideas which are presented by them, and be
informed of the existence of things without ; and so far as men^s
thouo'hts converse with their own determined ideas, they cannot
but, in some measure, observe the agreement or disagreement
that is to be found amongst some of them, which is so far
knowledge : and if they have names for those ideas which they
have thus considered, they must needs be assured of the truth
of those propositions, which express that agreement or disagree-
ment they perceive in them, and be undoubtedly convinced of
those truths. For what a man sees, he cannot but see; and what
he perceives, he cannot but know that he perceives.

&. 3. Instance in numbers. — Thus, he that has got the ideas
of numbers, and hath taken the pains to compare one, two, and
three, to six, cannot choose but know that they are equal. He
that hath got the idea of a triangle, and found the ways to
measure its angles, and their magnitudes, is certain that its
three angles are equal to two right ones : and can as little doubt
of that, as of this truth, that " it is impossible for the same
thing to be, and not to be."

In natural religion. — He also that hath the idea of an
intelligent, but frail and weak, being, made by and depending
on another, who is eternal, omnipotent, perfectly wise and good,
will as certainly know that man is to honour, fear, and obey
God, as that the sun shines when he sees it. For if he hath
but the ideas of two such beings in his mind, and will turn his
thoughts that way, and consider them, he will as certainly find,
that the inferior, finite, and dependant, is under an obligation
to obey the Supreme and Infinite, as he is certain to find, that
three, four, and seven, are less than fifteen, if he will consider
and conapute those numbers ; nor can he be surer in a clear
morning that the sun is risen, if he will but open his eyes, and

Ch. 14. JUDGMENT. 569

turn them that way. But yet these truths being ever so certain,
ever so clear, he may be ignorant of either, or of all of them, who
Avill never take the pains to employ his faculties as he should,
to inform himself about them.

CHAPTER XIV.

OF JUDGMENT.

§. 1. Our knowledge being short, we want something else. —
The understanding faculties being given to man, not barely
for speculation, but also for the conduct of his life, man
would be at a great loss, if he had nothing to direct him but
what has the certainty of true knowledge. For that being very
short and scanty, as we have seen, he would be often utterly in
the dark, and in most of the actions of his life, perfectly at a
stand, had he nothing to guide him in the absence of clear and
certain knowledge. He that will not eat, till he has demon-
stration that it will nourish him ; he that will not stir, till he
infallibly knows the business he goes about will succeed; will
have but little else to do, but to sit still and perish.

§. 2. What use to be made of this twilight state. — There-
fore, as God has set some things in broad day-light, as
he has given us some certain knowledge, though limited to
a few things in comparison, probably, as a taste of what intel-
lectual creatures are capable of, to excite in us a desire and
endeavour after a better state; so, in the greatest part of our
concernments, he has afforded us only the twilight, as I may so
say, of probability, suitable, I presume, to that state of me-
diocrity and probationership he has been pleased to place us
in here; wherein, to check our over-confidence and presump-
tion, we might, by every day's experience, be made sensible
of our short-sightedness, and liableness to error; the sense
whereof might be a constant admonition to us, to spend the
days of this our pilgrimage with industry and care, in the search
and following of that way, which might lead us to a state of
greater perfection. It being highly rational to think, even
were revelation silent in the case, that as men employ those
talents God has given them here, they shall accordingly
receive their rewards at the close of the day, when their sun
•shall set, and night shall put an end to their labours.

§. 3. Judgment supplies the want of knowledge. — The fa-
culty which God has given man to supply the want of clear
and certain knowledge, in cases where that cannot be had.

670 PROBABILITY. Book 4.

is judgment: whereby the mind takes its ideas to agree or
disagree ; or, which is the same, any proposition to be true or
false, without perceiving a demonstrative evidence in the proofs.
The mind sometimes exercises this judgment out of necessity,
where demonstrative proofs, and certain knowledge, are not to
be had ; and sometimes out of laziness, imskilfulness, or haste,
even where demonstrative and certain proofs are to be had.
Men often stay not warily to examine the agreement or disagree-
ment of two ideas, which they are desirous or concerned to
know ; but either incapable of such attention as is requisite in
a long train of gradations, or impatient of delay, lightly cast
their eyes on, or wholly pass by, the proofs ; and so, without
making out the demonstration, determine of the agreement or
disagreement of two ideas, as it were, by a view of them as they
are at a distance, and take it to be the one or the other, as
seems most likely to them upon such a loose survey. This
faculty of the mind, when it is exercised immediately about
things, is called judgment ; when about truths delivered in
words, is most commonly called assent or dissent : which being
the most usual way wherein the mind has occasion to employ
this faculty, I shall, under these terms, treat of it as least liable
in our language to equivocation.

§. 4. Jiulgment is the presuming things to be so, without
perceiving it. — Thus the mind has two faculties conversant about
truth and falsehood.

First, Knowledge, whereby it certainly perceives, and is
undoubtedly satisfied of, the agreement or disagreement of
any ideas.

Secondly, Judgment, which is the putting ideas together, or
separating them from one another, in the mind, when their
certain agreement or disagreement is not perceived, but pre-
sumed to be so ; which is, as the word imports, taken to be so,
before it certainly appears. And if it so unites or separates
them, as in reality things are, it is right judgment.

CHAPTER XV.

OF PROBABILITY.

§. 1. Probability is the appearance of agreement upon
fallible proofs. — As demonstration is the showing the agree-
ment or disagreement of two ideas, by the intervention of
one or more proofs, which have a constant, immutable, and
visible connexion one with another ; so probability is nothing

Ch. 15. PROBABILITV. 571

but the appearance of such an agreement or disagreement, by
the intervention of proofs, whose connexion is not constant
and immutable, or at least is not perceived to be so, but is, or
appears, for the most part to be so, and is enough to induce
the mind to judge the proposition to be true or false, rather than
the contrary. For example : in the demonstration of it, a man
perceives the certain immutable connexion there is of equality
between the three angles of a triangle, and those intermediate
ones, which are made use of to show their equality to two right
ones ; and so, by an intuitive knowledge of the agreement or
disagreement of the intermediate ideas in each step of the pro-
gress, the whole series is continued with an evidence which
clearly shows the agreement or disagreement of those three
angles in equality to two right ones : and thus he has certain
knowledge that it is so. But another man, who never took the
pains to observe the demonstration, hearing a mathematician,
a man of credit, affirm the three angles of a triangle to be equal
to two right ones, assents to it, i. e. receives it for true. In
which case, the foundation of his assent is the probability of
the thing, the proof being such as for the most part carries truth
with it: the man, on whose testimony he receives it, not being
wont to affirm any thing contrary to, or besides, his knowledge,
especially in matters of this kind. So that which causes his
assent to this proposition, that the three angles of a triangle
are equal to two right ones, that which makes him take these
ideas to agree, without knowing them to do so, is the wonted
veracity of the speaker in other cases, or his supposed veracity
in this.

§. 2. It is to supply the want of hnov)ledge. — Our know-
ledge, as has been shown, being very narrow, and we not
happy enough to find certain truth in every thing which we
have occasibn to consider, most of the propositions we think,
reason, discourse, nay, act upon, are such as we cannot have
undoubted knowledge of their truth ; yet some of them border
so near upon certainty, that we make no doubt at all about
them, but assent to them as firmly, and act, according to that
assent, as resolutely, as if they were infallibly demonstrated, and
that our knowledge of them was perfect and certain. But there
being degrees herein, from the very neighbourhood of certainty
and demonstration, quite down to improbability and unlikeliness,
even to the confines of impossibility ; and also degrees of assent
from full assurance and confidence, quite down to conjecture,
doubt, and distrust ; I shall come now (having, as I think,
found out the bounds of human knowledge and certainty), in the

572 PROBABILITY. Book 4.

next place, to consider the several degrees and grounds of pro-
bability and assent or faith.

§. 3. Being that which makes us j)res7ime things to ha true,
before we know them to he so. — Probability is likeliness to
be true, the very notation of the word signifying such
a proposition, for which there be arguments or proofs, to make
it pass, or be received, for true. The entertainment the mind
gives this sort of propositions, is called belief, assent, or
opinion, which is the admitting or receiving any proposition
for true, upon arguments or proofs that are found to persuade
us to receive it as true, without certain knowledge that it is so.
And herein lies the difference between probability and certainty,
faith and knowledge, that in all the parts of knowledge there
is intuition ; each immediate idea, each step, has its visible and
certain connexion ; in belief, not so. That which makes me
believe, is something extraneous to the thing I believe; some-
thing not evidently joined on both sides to, and so not mani-
festly showing the agreement or disagreement of those ideas
that are under consideration.

§. 4. The grounds of prohahility are two ; conformity with
our own experience, or the testimony of others experience. —
Probability, then, being to supply the defect of our knowledge,
and to guide us where that fails, is always conversant about
propositions whereof we have no certainty, but only some
inducements to receive them for true. The grounds of it are,
in short, these two following :

First, The conformity of any thing with our own know^ledge,
observation, and experience.

Secondlif, The testimony of others, vouching their observation
and experience. In the testimony of others, is to be considered,
1, The number. 2, The integrity. 3, The skill of the witnesses,
4, The design of the author, where it is a testimony out of a
book cited. 5, The consistency of the parts and circumstances '
of the relation. 6, Contrary testimonies.

§. 5. In this, all the arguments pro and con ought to
he examined, before we come to a judgment. — Probability
wanting that intuitive evidence which infallibly determines
the understanding, and produces certain knowledge, the
mind, if it would proceed rationally, ought to examine all
the grounds of probability, and see how they make more or less
for or against any proposition, before it assents to, or dissents
from, it; and upon a due balancing the whole, reject or receive
it, with a more or less firm assent, proportionably to the prepon-
derancy of the greater grounds of probability on one side or the
other. For example :

Ch. J5. PROBABILITY. 573

If I myself see a man walk on the ice, it is past probability ;
it is knowledge : but if another tells me, he saw a man in
England, in the midst of a sharp winter, walk upon water
hardened with cold ; this has so great conformity with what
is usually observed to happen, that I am disposed, by the nature
of the thing itself, to assent to it, unless some manifest suspicion
attend the relation of that matter of fact. But if the same
thing be told to one born between the tropics, who never saw
nor heard of any such thing before, there the whole probability
relies on testimony : and as the relators are more in number,
and of more credit, and have no interest to speak contrary to
the truth ; so that matter of fact is like to find more or less
belief. Though to a man, whose experience has always been
quite contrary, and has never heard of any thing like it, the
most untainted credit of a witness will scarce be able to find
belief. As it happened to a Dutch ambassador, who enter-
taining the King of Siam with the particularities of Holland,
which he was inquisitive after, amongst other things, told him
that the water in his country would sometimes, in cold weather
be so hard, that men walked upon it, and that it would bear an
elephant, if he w^ere there. To which the king replied, " Hi-
therto I have believed the strange things you have told me
because I look upon you as a sober fair man ; but now I am
sure you lie."

§. 6. Theij being capable of great variety. — Upon these
grounds depends the probability of any proposition : and
as the conformity of our knowledge, as the certainty of obser-
vations, as the frequency and constancy of experience, and the
number and credibility of testimonies, do more or less ao-ree
or disagree with it, so is any proposition in itself more or less
probable. There is another, I confess, which, though by itself
it be no true ground of probability, yet is often made use of for
one, by which men most commonly regulate their assent, and
upon which they pin their faith more than any thing else, and
that is the opinion of others : though there cannot be a more
dangerous thing to rely on, nor more likely to mislead one,
since there is much more falsehood and error among men, than
truth and knowledge. And if the opinions and persuasions of
others, whom we know and think well of, be a ground of assent,
men have reason to be Heathens in Japan, Mahometans in Turkey,
Papists in Spain, Protestants in England, and Lutherans in
Sweden. But of this wrong ground of assent, I shall have
occasion to speak more at large in another place.

574 DEGREES OF ASSENT. Book ■^.

CHAPTER XVI.

OF THE DEGREES OF ASSENT.

§. 1. Our assent ought to he regulated hy the grounds of pro-
hahility. — The grounds of probability we have laid down in the
foregoing chapter; as they are the foundations on which our
assent is built, so are they also the measure whereby its several
degrees are, or ought to be, regulated : only we are to take
notice, that whatever grounds of probability there may be, they
yet operate no farther on the mind, which searches after truth,
and endeavours to judge right, than they appear, at least in
the first judgment or search that the mind makes. I confess, in
the opinions men have, and firmly stick to, in the world, their
assent is not always from an actual view of the reasons that at
first prevailed with them ; it being in many cases almost impos-
sible, and in most very hard, even for those who have very
admirable memories, to retain all the proofs, which, upon a due
examination, made them embrace that side of the question. It
suffices that they have once, with care and fairness, sifted the
matter gis far as they could; and that they have searched into
all the particulars that they could imagine, to give any light to
the question, and with the best of their skill, cast up the account
upon the whole evidence : and thus having once found on which
side the probability appeared to them, after as full and exact
an enquiry as they can make, they lay up the conclusion in their
memories, as a truth they have discovered ; and for the future
they remain satisfied with the testimony of their memories, that
this is the opinion that, by the proofs they have once seen of
it, deserves such a degree of their assent as they afford it.

§. 2. These caniiot always be actually in view, and then ive
must content ourselves with the remembrance that we once
saw ground for such a degree uf assent. — This is all that the
greatest part of men are capable of doing, in regulating their
opinions and judgments, unless a man will exact of them, either
to retain distinctly in their memories all the proofs concerning
any probable truth, and that too in the same order, and regular
deduction of consequences, in which they have formerly placed
or seen them; which sometimes is enough to fill a large volume
upon one single question: or else they must require a man, for
every opinion that he embraces, every day to examine the
proofs ; both which are impossible. It is unavoidable, therefore,
that the memory be relied on in the case, and that men be per-
suaded of several opinions, whereof the proofs are not actually

Ch. 16. DEGREES OF ASSENT. .575

in their thoughts ; nay, which perhaps they are not able actually
to recal. Without this, the greatest part of men must be either
very sceptics, or change every moment, and yield themselves
up to whoever, having lately studied the question, offers them
arguments ; which, for want of memory, they are not able pre-
sently to answer.

§. 3. The ill consequence of this, if our former judgments were
not rightly made. — I cannot but own, that men's sticking to their
past judgment, and adhering firmly to conclusions formerly
made, is often the cause of great obstinacy in error and mistal-^e.
But the fault is not that they rely on their memories for what
they have before well judged, but because they judged before
they had well examined. May we not find a great number
(not to say the greatest part) of men, that think they have
formed right judgments of several matters, and that for no other
reason, but because tliey never thought otherwise ? Who imagine
themselves to have judged right, only because they never ques-
tioned, never examined, their own opinions ? Which is indeed to
think they judged right, because they never judged at all: and
yet these, of all men, hold their opinions with the greatest '
stiffness ; those being generally the most fierce and firm in
their tenets, who have least examined them. What we once
know, we are certain is so ; and we may be secure that there are
no latent proofs undiscovered, which may overturn our know-
ledge, or bring it in doubt. But in matters of probability, it is
not in every case we can I;? sure that we have all the particulars
before us, that any way concern the question ; and that there is
no evidence behind, and yet unseen, which may cast the pro-
bability on the other side, and out-weigh all that at present
seems to preponderate with us. Who almost is there that hath
the leisure, patience, and means to collect together all the proofs
concerning most of the opinions he has, so as safely to con-
clude, that he hath a clear and full view, and that there is no
more to be alleged for his better information? and yet we are
forced to determine ourselves on the one side or other. The
conduct of our lives, and the management of our great concerns,
will not bear delay ; for those depend, for the most part, on the
determination of our judgment in points wherein we are not
capable of certain and demonstrative knowledge, and wherein it
is necessary for us to embrace the one side or the other.

§. 4. The right use of it, is mutual charity and forbearance.
— Since therefore it is unavoidable to the greatest part of men,
if not all, to have several opinions, without certain and indu-
bitable proofs of their truths ; and it carries too great an impu-
tation of ignorance, lightness, or folly, for men to quit and

576 DEGREES OF ASSENT. Book 4.

renounce their former tenets presently upon the oifer of an
argument which they cannot immediately answer, and show the
sufficiency of: it would, methinks, become all men to maintain
peace, and the common offices of humanity and friendship, in
the diversity of opinions, since we cannot reasonably expect
that any one should readily and obsequiously quit his own
opinion, and embrace ours, wuth a blind resignation to an authority
which the understanding of man acknowledges not. For how-
ever it may often mistake, it can own no other guide but reason,
nor blindly submit to the will and dictates of another. If he
you would bring over to your sentiments, be one that examines
before he assents, you must give him leave at his leisure to go
over the account again, and recalling what is out of his mind,
examine all the particulars, to see on which side the advantage
lies ; and if he will not think our arguments of weight enough
to engage him anew in so much pains, it is but what we often do
ourselves in the like case ; and we should take it amiss, if others
should prescribe to us what points we should study : and if he
be one who takes his opinions upon trust, how can we imagine
that he should renounce those tenets which time and custom
have so settled in his mind, that he thinks them self-evident,
and of an unquestionable certainty ; or which he takes to be
impressions he has received from God himself, or from men
sent by him ? How can we expect, I say, that opinions thus
settled, should be given up to the arguments or authority of a
stranger or adversary, especially if there be any suspicion of
interest or design, as there never fails to be where men find
themselves ill-treated? We should do well to commiserate our
mutual ignorance, and endeavour to remove it in all the gentle
and fair ways of information, and not instantly treat others ill
as obstinate and perverse, because they will not renounce their
own, and receive our, opinions, or at least those we would force
upon them, when it is more than probable that we are no less
oijstinate in not embracing^ some of theirs. For where is the
man that has incontestible evidence of the truth of all that he
holds, or of the falsehood of all he condemns ; or can say, that
he has examined to the bottom, all his own, or other men's,
opinions? The necessity of believing, without knowledge, nay,
often upon very slight grounds, in this fleeting state of action
and blindness we are in, should make us more busy and careful
to inform ourselves, than constrain others ; at least those who
have not thoroughly examined to the bottom of all their own
tenets, must confess they are unfit to prescribe to others, and
are unreasonable in imposing that as truth on other men's
belief, which they themselves have not searched into, nor weighed

CVe. 16. DEGllKKS OF ASSENT. 577

the arguments of j)robability on which they should receive or
reject it. Those who have fairly and truly examined, and are
thereby got past doubt in all the doctrines they profess and
govern themselves by, would have a more just pretence to require
others to follow them : but these are so few in number, and find
so little reason to be magisterial in their opinions, that nothing
insolent and imperious is to be expected from them : and there
is reason to think, that if men were better instructed themselves,
they would be less imposing on others.

§. 5. Probability is either of matter of fact, or speculation. —
But to return to the grounds of assent, and the several degrees
of it, we are to take notice, that the propositions we receive
upon inducements of probability, are of two sorts, either con-
cerning some particular existence, or, as it is usually termed,
matter of fact, which falling under observation, is capable of
human testimony, or else concerning things, which being beyond
the discovery of our senses, are not capable of any such testi-
mony.

§. 6. The concurrent experience of all other men with ours,
produces assurance approaching to knowledge. — Concerning the
fii'st of these, viz., particular matter of fact.

First, Where any particular thing, consonant to the constant
observation of ourselves and others in the like case, comes
attested by the concurrent reports of all that mention it, we
receive it as easily, and build as firmly upon it, as if it were
certain knowledge ; and we reason and act thereupon with as
little doubt, as if it were perfect demonstration. Thus, if an
Englishman, who had occasion to mention it, should affirm, that
it froze in England the last winter, or that there were swallows
seen there in the summer, I think a man could almost as little
doubt of it, as that seven and four are eleven. The first, there-
fore, and highest degree of probability, is, when the general
consent of all men, in all ages, as far as it can be known, con*
curs with a man's constant and never failing experience in like
cases, to confirm the truth of any particular matter of fact
attested by fair witnesses; such are all the stated constitutions
and properties of bodies, and the regular proceedings of causes
and effects in the ordinary course of nature. This we call an
argument from the nature of things themselves : for what our
-own and other men's constant observation has found always to
be after the same manner, that we with reason conclude to be
the effect of steady and regular causes, though they come not
within the reach of our knowledge. Thus, that fire warmed a
■man, made lead fluid, and changed the colour or consistency in
wood or charcoal ; that iron sunk in water, and swam in quick-'

p p

578 DEGREES OF ASSENT. Book 4.

silver : these, and the like propositions about particular facts,
being agreeable to our constant experience, as often as we hstve
to do with these matters, and being generally spoke of (when
n;Lentioned by others) as things found constantly to be so, and
therefore not so much as controverted by any body, we are put
past doubt, that a relation affirming any such thing to have
been, or any predication that it will happen again in the same
manner, is very true. These probabilities rise so near to a cer-
tainty, that they govern our thoughts as absolutely, and influence
all our sections as fully, as the most evident demonstration ; and
in what coi^cerns us, we make little or no difference between
them and certain, knowledge. Our belief thus grounded, rises
tp, assurance.

. §, 7. Unquestionable testimony and experience for the most
part produces confidence. — Secondly, The next degree of pro-
bjability is, when I find by my own experience, and the
agreement of all others that mention it, a thing to be for
the most part so : and that the particular instance of it
is attested by many and undoubted witnesses, v. g. history
giving us such an account of men in all ages, and my
own experience, as far as I had an opportunity to observe,
confirming it, that most men prefer their private advantage to
the public. If all historians that write of Tiberius, say that
Tiberius did so, it is extremely probable. And in this case, our
assent has a sufficient foundation to raise itself to a degree
which we may call confidence,

§. 8. Fair testimony, and the nature of the thing indifferent,
produce also confident belief. — Thirdly, In things that happen
indifferently, as that a bird should fly this or that way,
that it should thunder on a man's right or left hand, &,c.,
when any particular matter of fact is vouched by the con-
current testimony of unsuspected witnesses, there Our as-
sent is also unavoidable. Thus, that there is such a city in
Italy as Rome ; that about 1700 years ago, there lived in it a
man called Julius Csesar; that he was a general, and that he
won a battle against another, called Pompey ; this, though in
the nature of the thing there be nothing for nor against it, yet
being related by historians of credit, and contradicted by no one
writer, a man cannot avoid believing it ; and can as little doubt
of it, as he does of the being and actions of his own acquaint-
ance, whereof he himself is a witness.

§. 9. Experiences and testimonies clashing, infinitely vary the
degrees of probability. — Thus far the matter goes easy enough.
Probability upon such grounds carries so much evidence with
it, that it naturally determines the judgment, and leaves us as

Cli. 16, DEGREES OF ASSENT. 579

little liberty to believe or disbelieve, as a demonstration does,
whether we will know or be ignorant. The difficulty is, when
testimonies contradict common experience, and the reports of
history and witnesses clash with the ordinary course of nature,
or with one another : there it is, where diligence, attention, and
exactness are required to form a right judgment, and to propor-
tion the assent to the different evidence and probability of the
thing, which rises and falls according as those two foundations
of credibility, viz., common observation in like cases, and
particidar testimonies in that particular instance, favour or
contradict it. These are liable to so great a variety of contrary
observations, circumstances, reports, different qualifications,
tempers, designs, oversights, &.C., of the reporters, that it is
impossible to reduce to precise rules, the various degrees
wherein men give their assent. This only may be said in
general, that as the arguments and proofs, 2^^^ ^^^ ^o"' upon due
examination, nicely weighing every particular circumstance,
shall to any one appear, upon the whole matter, in a greater
or less degree, to preponderate on either side, so they are
fitted to produce in the mind such different entertainment,
as we call belief, conjecture, guess, doubt, wavering, distrust,
disbelief, 8cc.

§5. 10. Traditional testimonies, the farther removed, the less
their proofs. — This is what concerns assent in matters wherein
testimony is made use of; concerning which, I think it may
not be amiss to take notice of a rule observed in the law of
England, which is, that though the attested copy of a record
be good proof, yet the copy of a copy ever so well attested, and
by ever so credible witnesses, will not be admitted as a proof
in judicature. This is so generally approved as reasonable, and
suited to the wisdom and caution to be used in our enquiry
after material truths, that I never yet heard of any one that
blamed it. This practice, if it be allowable in the decisions of
right and wrong, carries this observation along with it, viz.,
that any testimony, the farther off it is from the original truth,
the less force and proof it has. The being and existence of the
thing itself, is what I call the original truth. A credible man
vouching his knowledge of it, is a good proof: but if another,
equally credible, do witness it from his report, the testimony is
weaker ; and a third that attests the hear-say of a hear-say, is
yet less considerable. So that in traditional truths, each remove
weakens the force of the proof; and the more hands the tradition
has successively passed through, the less strength and evidence
does it receive from them. This I thought necessary to be
taken notice of, because I find amongst some men the quite

p p 2

580 DEGREES OF ASSENT. Book 4.

contrary commonly practised, who look on opinions to gain
force by growing older ; and what a thousand years since would
not, to a rational man, contemporary with the first voucher, have
appeared at all probable, is now urged as certain, beyond all
question, only because several have since, from him, said it one
after another. Upon this ground, propositions evidently false
or doubtful enough in their first beginning, come by an inverted
rule of probability to pass for authentic truths ; and those which
found or deserved little credit from the mouths of their first
authors, are thought to grow venerable by age, and are urged as
undeniable.

§. 11. Yet history is of (jreat use. — I would not be thought
here to lessen the credit and use of history : it is all the light we
have in many cases ; and we receive from it a great part of the
useful truths we have, with a convincing evidence. I think
nothing more valuable than the records of antiquity: I wish we
had more of them, and more nncorrupted. But this truth itself
forces me to say, that no probability can arise higher than its
first original. Wliat has no other evidence than the single
testimony of one only witness, must stand or fall by his only
testimony, whethr'r good, bad, or indifferent ; and though cited
afterwards by hundreds of others, one after another, is so far
from receivintr any strenath thereby, that it is only the weaker.
Passion, interest, inadvertency, mistake of his meaning, and a
thousand odd reasons or capricios, men's minds are acted by
(impossible to be discovered), may make one man quote another
man's words or meaning wrong. He that has but ever so little
examined the citations of writers, cannot doubt how little credit
the quotations deserve, where the originals are wanting ; and
consequently how much less, quotations of quotations can be
relied on. This is certain, that what in one age was affirmed
upon slight grounds, can never after come to be more valid in
future ages, by being often repeated. But the farther still it is
from the original, the less valid it is, and has always less force
in the mouth or writing of him that last made use of it, than in
his from whom he received it.

§. 12. In tilings which sense cannot discover, analogy is the
great rule of probability. — The probabilities we have hitherto-
mentioned, are only such as concern matter of fact, and such
things as are capable of observation and testimony. There
remains that other sort, concerning which men entertain opi-
nions with variety of assent, though the things be such, that
falling not under the reach of our senses, they are not capable
of testimony. Such are, 1, The existence, nature, and operations
of finite immaterial beings without us ; as spirits, angels, devils.

Ch. 1(). DEGREES OF ASSENT. 581

Sec, or the existence of material beinscs; which either for their
smallness in themselves, or remoteness from us, our senses
cannot take notice of, as whether there be any plants, animals,
and intelligent inhabitants in the planets, and other mansions of
the vast universe. 2, Concerning the manner of operation in
most parts of the works of nature ; wherein, though we see the
sensible effects, yet their causes are unknown, and we perceive
not the ways and manner how they are produced. We see
animals are generated, nourished, and move : the loadstone
draws iron ; and the parts of a candle successively melting, turn
into flame, and give us both light and heat. These, and the like,
effects we see and know ; but the causes that operate, and the
manner they are produced in, we can only guess, and probably
conjecture. For these, and the like, coming not within the scrutiny
of human senses, cannot be examined by them, or be attested by
any body; and, therefore, can appear more or less probable, only
as they more or less agree to truths that are established in our
minds, and as they hold proportion to other parts of our knowledge
and observation. Analogy, in these matters, is the only help we
have, and it is from that alone we draw all our grounds of proba-
bility. Thus observing that the bare rubbing of two bodies vio-
lently one upon another, produces heat, and very often tire itself,
we have reason to think, that what we call heat and fire, consists
in a violent agitation of the imperceptible minute parts of the
burning matter : observing likewise, that the different refrac-
tions of pellucid bodies, produce in our eyes the different ap-
pearances of several colours ; and also that the different ranging
and laying the superficial parts of several bodies, as of velvet,
watered silk, &c., does the like, we think it probable that the
colour and shining of bodies, is in them nothing but the different
arrangement and refraction of their minute and insensible parts.
Thus finding in all parts of the creation, that fall under human
observation, that there is a gradual connexion of one with
another, without any great or discernible gaps between, in all
that great variety of things we see in the world, which are so
closely linked together, that, in the several ranks of beings, it is
not easily to discover the bounds betwixt them ; we have reason
to be persuaded, that by such gentle steps, things ascend upwards
in degrees of perfection. It is a hard matter to say where sensible
and rational begin, and where insensible and irrational end : and
who is there quick-sighted enough to determine precisely, which
is the lowest species of living things, and which the first of those
who have no life ? Things, as far as we can observe, lessen and
augment as the quantity does in'a regular cone, where though ihere
be a manifest odds betwixt the bigness of the diameter at aremcte

p 1' 3

&82 DEGREES OF ASSENT. Book 4.

distance, yet tlie difference between the upper and under, where
they touch one another, is hardly discernible. The difference is
exceeding great between some men, and some animals ; but if
we will compare the understanding and abilities of some men,
and some brutes, we shall find so little difference, that it will
be hard to say, that that of the man is either clearer or larger.
Observing, I say, such gradual and gentle descents downwards
in those parts of the creation that are beneath man, the rule of
analogy may make it probable, that it is so also in things above
us and our observation ; and that there are several ranks of in-
telligent beings, excelling us in several degrees of perfection,
ascending upwards towards the infinite perfection of the Creator,
by gentle steps and differences, that are every one at no great
distance from the next to it. This sort of probability, which is
the best conduct of rational experiments, and the rise of hypo-
thesis, has also its use and influence ; and a wary reasoning from
analogy, leads us often into the discovery of truths, and useful
productions, which would otherwise lie concealed.

§.13. One case where contrary experience lessens not the tesfi-
7}iony. — Though the common experience, and the ordinary course
of things, have justly a mighty influence on the minds of men, to
make them give or refuse credit to any thing proposed to their
belief; yet there is one case wherein the strangeness of the fact
lessens not the assent to a fair testimony given of it. For
where such supernatural events are sjiitable to ends aimed at by
him, who has the power to change the course of nature, there,
under such circumstances, they may be the fitter to procure
belief, by how much the more they are beyond, or contrary to,
ordinary observation. This is the proper case of miracles, which,
well attested, do not only find credit themselves, but give it also
to other truths, which need such confirmation.

§. 14. The hare testimony of revelation, is the highest cer-
tainty.— Besides those we have hitherto mentioned, there is one
sort of propositions that challenge the highest degree of our
assent upon bare testimony, whether the thing proposed agree
or disagree with common experience, and the ordinary course of
things, or no. The reason whereof is, because the testimony is
of such an one as cannot deceive, nor be deceived, and that is
of God himself. This carries with it an assurance beyond doubt,
evidence beyond exception. This is called by a peculiar name,
revelation ; and our assent to it, faith ; which as absolutely
determines our minds, and as perfectly excludes all wavering,
as our knowledge itself; and we may as well doubt of our own
being, as we can, whether any revelation from God be true. So
that faith is a settled and sure principle of assent and assu-

Ch. 17. REASON. 683

raiice, and leaves no manner of room for doubt or hesitation.
Only we must be sure that it be a divine revelation, and that
we understand it right ; else we shall expose ourselves to all
the extravagancy of enthusiasm, and all the error of wrong-
principles, if we have faith and assurance in what is not divine
revelation. And, therefore, in those cases, our assent can be
rationally no higher than the evidence of its being a revelation,
and that this is the meaning of tlie expressions it is delivered
in. If the evidence of its being a revelation, or that this is
its true sense, be only on probable proofs, our assent can
reach no higher than an assurance or diffidence, arising from
the more or less apparent probability of the proofs. But
of faith, and the precedency it ought to have before other
arguments of persuasion, I shall speak more hereafter, where I
treat of it, as it is ordinarily placed, in contradistinction to
reason ; though, in truth, it be nothing else but an assent
founded on the highest reason.

CHAPTER XVII.

OF REASON.

§. 1. Various significations of the word reason. — The word
reason, in the English language, has different significations ;
sometimes it is taken for true and clear principles ; sometimes
for clear and fair deductions from those principles ; and some-
times for the cause, and particularly the final cause. But the
consideration I shall have of it here, is in a signification dif-
ferent from all these ^ and that is, as it stands for a faculty in
man, that faculty whereby man is supposed to be distinguished
from beasts, and wherein it is evident that he surpasses
them.

§. 2. Wherein reasoning cotisists. — If general knowledge, as
has been shown, consists in a perception of the agreement or
disagreement of our own ideas, and the knowledge of the
existence of all things without us (except only of a God, whose
existence every man may certainly know and demonstrate to
himself from his own existence), be had only by our senses j
what room is there for the exercise of any other faculty,
but outward sense, and inward perception ? What need is
there of reason ? Very much ; both for the enlargement of our
knowledge, and regulating our assent : for it hath to do both
in knowledge and opinion, and is necessary and assisting to
all our other intellectual faculties, and, indeed, contains two of

p p 4

684 REASON. Book 4.

them, viz., sagacity and illation. By the one, it finds out ; and
by the other, it so orders the intermediate ideas, as to discover
w^hat connexion there is in each link of the chain, whereby the
extremes are held together ; and thereby, as it were, to draw into
view the truth fought for, which is that which we call illation
or inference, and consists in nothing but the perception of the
connexion there is between the ideas in each step of the
deduction, whereby the mind comes to see either the certain
agreement or disagreement of any two ideas, as of demonstra-
tion, in which it arrives at knowledge ; or their probable con-
nexion, on which it gives or withholds its assent, as in opinion.
Sense and intuition reach but a very little way. The greatest
part of knowledge depends upon deductions and interme-
diate ideas ; and in those cases where we are fain to substitute
assent instead of knowledge, and take propositions for true,
without being certain they are so, we have need to find out,
examine, and compare the grounds of their probability. In
both these cases, the faculty which finds out the means, and
rightly applies them to discover certainty in the one, and
probability in the other, is that which we call reason. For
as reason perceives the necessaiy and indubitable connexion
of all the ideas or proofs one to another, in each step of
any demonstration that produces knowledge ; so it likewise
perceives the probable connexion of all the ideas or proofs
one to another, in every step of a discourse to which it will
think assent due. This is the lowest degree of that which
can be truly called reason. For where the mind does not
perceive this probable connexion ; where it does not dis-
cern whether there be any such connexion or no ; there men's
opinions are not the product of judgment, or the conse-
quence of reason, but the effects of chance and hazard of a
mind floating at all adventures, without choice and without
direction.

^. 3. Its four parts. — So that we may in reason consider
these four degrees ; the first and highest, is the discovering and
finding out of truths ; the second, the regular and methodical
disposition of them, and laying them in a clear and fit order, to
make their connexion and force be plainly and easily perceived ;
the third, is the perceiving their connexion ; and the fourth, a
making a right conclusion. These several degrees may be
observed in any mathematical demonstration ; it being one thing
to perceive the connexion of each part, as the demonstration is
made by another ; another to perceive the dependence of the
conclusion on all the parts .; a third to make out a demonstration
clearly and neatly one's self; and something different from all

Ch. 17. REASON. 58.5

these, to have first found out those intermediate ideas or proofs
by which it is made.

§. 4. Syllogism not the great instrument of reason. — There is
one thing- more which I shall desire to be considered con-
cerning reason ; and that is, whether syllogism, as is generally
thought, be the proper instrument of it, and the most useful way
of exercising this faculty ? The causes I have to doubt, are these :

First, Because syllogism serves our reason but in one only
of the fore-mentioned parts of it; and that is, to show the
connexion of the proofs in any one instance, and no more ; but
in this it is of no great use, since the mind can conceive such
connexion where it really is, as easily, nay, perhaps better,
without it.

If we will observe the actings of our own minds, we shall
find that we reason best and clearest, when we only observe
the connexion of the proof, without reducing our thoughts
to any rule of syllogism. And, therefore, we may take
notice, that there are many men that reason exceeding clear
and rightly, who know not how to make a syllogism. He that
wall look into many parts of Asia and America, will find
men reason there, perhaps, as acutely as himself, who yet
never heard of a syllogism, nor can reduce anv one argument
to those forms ; and I believe scarce any one makes syllogisms
in reasoning within himself. Indeed, syllogism is made
use of on occasion to discover a fallacy hid in a rhetorical
flourish, or cunningly wrapped up in a smooth period ; and
stripping an absurdity of the cover of wit and good language,
show it in its naked deformity. But the weakness or fallacy
of such a loose discourse, it shows by the artificial form it is
put into, only to those who have thoroughly studied mode and
figures, and have so examined the many ways that three pro-
positions may be put together, as to know which of them does
certainly conclude right, and which not, and upon what grounds
it is that they do so. All who have so far considered syllogism,
as to see the reason why, in three propositions laid together,
in one form, the conclusion will be certainly right; but in
another, not certainly so ; I grant are certain of the conclusion
they draw from the premises in the allowed modes and figures.
But they who have not so far looked into those forms, are not
sure, by virtue of syllogism, that the conclusion certainly
follows from the premises ; they only take it to be so by an
implicit faith in their teachers, and a confidence in those forms
of argumentation ; but this is still but believing, not being
certain. Now, if of all mankind, those who can make syllo-
gisms, are extremely few in comparison of those who cannot;

586 REASON. Book 4.

and if, of those few who have been taught logic, there is but
a very small number who do any more than believe that syllo-
gisms in the allowed modes and figures do conclude right,
without knowing certainly that they do so ; if syllogisms
must be taken for the only proper instrument of reason and
means of knowledge ; it will follow, that before Aristotle, there
was not one man that did, or could, know any thing by reason,
and that since the invention of syllogisms, there is not one of
ten thousand that doth.

But God has not been so sparing to men to make them barely
two-legged creatures, and left it to Aristotle to make them
rational, i. e. those few of them that he could get so to exa-
mine the grounds of syllogisms, as to see, that in above three-
score ways that three propositions may be laid together, there
are but about fourteen wherein one may be sure that the con-
clusion is right ; and upon what grounds it is, that in these few
the conclusion is certain, and in the other not. Gk)d has been
more bountiful to mankind than so ; he has given them a mind
that can reason without being instructed in methods of syllo-
gizing : the understanding is not taught to reason by these
rules ; it has a native faculty to perceive the coherence or inco-
herence of its ideas, and can range them right, without any
such perplexing repetitions. I say not this, any way to lessen
Aristotle, whom I look on as one of the greatest men amongst
the ancients ; whose large views, acuteness, and penetration of
thought, and strength of judgment, few have equalled ; and
who in this very invention or forms of argumentation, wherein
the conclusion may be shown to be rightly inferred, did great
service against those who were not ashamed to deny any thing.
And I readily ow*n, that all right reasoning may be reduced to
his forms of syllogism. But yet I think, without any dimi-
nution to him, I may truly say, that they are not only not the
best way of reasoning, for the leading of those into truth who
are willing to find it, and desire to make the best use they may
of their reason, for the attainment of knowledge. And he
himself, it is plain, found out some forms to be conclusive, and
others not \ not by the forms themselves, but by the original
way of knowledge, i. e. by the visible agreement of ideas. Tell
a country gentlewoman, that the wind is south-west, and the
weather louring, and like to rain, and she will easily understand
it is not safe for her to go abroad thin clad, m such a day, after
a fever ; she clearly sees the probable connexion of all these,
viz., south-west wind, and clouds, rain, wetting-, taking cold,
relapse, and danger of death, without tying them together in
those artificial and cumbersome fetters of several syllogisms,

Ch. 17. REASON. 587

that clog and hinder the mind, which proceetls from one part to
another quicker and clearer without them : and the probability
which she easily perceives in things thus in their native state,
would be quite lost, if this argument were managed learnedly,
and proposed in mode and figure. For it very often confounds
the connexion : and, I think, every one will perceive in mathe-
matical demonstrations, that the knowledge gained thereby,
comes shortest and clearest without syllogisms.

Inference is looked on as the great act of the rational faculty,
and so it is, when it is rightly made ; but the mind, either very
desirous to enlarge its knowledge, or very apt to favour the
sentiments it has once imbibed, is very forward to make in-
ferences, and therefore often makes too much haste, before it
perceives the connexion of the ideas that must hold the extremes
together.

To infer, is nothing but by virtue of one proposition laid down

as true, to draw in another as true, i. e. to see or suppose such

a connexion of the two ideas of the inferred proposition, v. g.

let this be the proposition laid down, " men shall be punished in

another world," and from, thence be inferred this other, " then

men can determine themselves." The question now is to know,

whether the mind has made this inference right, or no? if it has

made it, by finding out the intermediate ideas, and taking a view

of the connexion of them, placed in a due order, it has proceeded

rationally, and made a riglit inference. If it has done it without

such a view, it has not so much made an inference that will

iiold, or an inference of right reason, as shown a willingness to

have it be, or to be taken for such. But in neither case is it

syllogism that discovered those ideas, or showed the connexion

of them, for they must be both found out, and the connexion

every where perceived, before they can rationally be made use

of in syllogism ; unless it can be said, that any idea, without

considering what connexion it hath with the two other, whose

agreement should be shown by it, will do well enough in a

syllogism, and may be taken at a venture for the medinjt terminus,

to prove any conclusion. But this nobody will say, because it

is by virtue of the perceived agreement of the intermediate idea,

with the extremes, that the extremes are concluded to agree, and

therefore each intermediate idea must be such, as in the whole

chain hath a visible connexion with those two it has been placed

between, or else thereby the conclusion cannot be inferred or

drawn in ; for wherever any link of the chain is loose, and

without connexion, there the whole strength of it is lost, and it

hath no Ibrce to infer or draw in any thing. In the instance

above-mentioned, what is it shows the force of the inference.

588 REASON. Book 4.

and consequently the reasonableness of it, but a view of the con-
nexion of all the intermediate ideas that draw in the conclusion
or proposition inferred ; v. g. " men shall be punished ;" " God
the punisher ;" "just punishment;" "the punished guilty;"
" could have done otherwise ;" " freedom ;" " self-determination :"
bv which chain of ideas thus visibly linked together in train, i. e.
each intermediate idea agreeing on each side with those two it
is immediately placed between, the ideas of men and self-deter-
mination appear to be connected, i. e. this proposition, "men
can determine themselves," is drawn in or inferred from this,
" that they shall be punished in the other world." For here the
mind seeino; the connexion there is between the idea of men's
punishment in the other world, and the idea of God punishing ;
between God punishing, and the justice of the punishment;
between justice of the punishment, and guilt; between guilt, and a
power to do otherwise ; between a power to do otherwise, and
freedom, and between freedom, and self-determination, sees the
connexion between men, and self-determination.

Now, I ask, whether the connexion of the extremes be not
more clearly seen in this simple and natural disposition, than in
the perplexed repetitions, and jumble of five or six syllogisms ?
I must beg pardon for calling it jumble, till somebody shall put
these ideas into so many syllogisms, and then say, that they are
less jumbled, and their connexion more visible, when they are
transp^osed and repeated, and spun out to a greater length in
artificial forms, than in that short and natural plain order they are
laid down in here, wherein every one may see it, and wherein
they must be seen, before they can be put into a train of syllogisms.
For the natural order of the connecting ideas, must direct the
order of the syllogisms ; and a man must see the connexion of
each intermediate idea with those that it connects, before he can
with reason make use of it in a syllogism. And w^hen all those
syllogisms are made, neither those that are, nor those that
are not, logicians, will see the force of the argumentation,
i. e. the connexion of the extremes one jot the better. [For
those that are not men of art, not knowing the true forms
of syllogism, nor the reason of them, cannot know whether they
are made in right and conclusive modes and figures or no, and
so are not at all helped by the forms they are put into, though
by them the natural order, w'hereinthe mind could judge of their
respective connexion, being disturbed, renders the illation much
more uncertain than without them.] And as for the logicians them-
selves, they see the connexion of each intermediate idea with
those it stands between (on which the force of the inference
depends), as well before as after the syllogism is made, or else

Ch. 17. REASON. 589

they do not see it at all. For a syllogism neither shows nor
strengthens the connexion of any two ideas immediately put
together, but only by the connexion seen in them, shows what
connexion the extremes have with one another. But what con-
nexion the intermediate has with either of the extremes in that
syllogism, that no syllogism does or can show. That the mind
only doth or can perceive as they stand there in that juxta-
position, only, by its own view, to which the syllogistical fonn
it happens to be in gives no help or light at all ; it only shows,
that if the intermediate idea agrees with those it is on both sides
immediately applied to ; then those two remote ones, or as they
are called extremes, do certainly agree, and therefore the im-
mediate connexion of each idea to that which it is applied to
on each side, on which the force of the reasoning depends, is as
well seen before as after the syllogism is made, or else he that
makes the syllogism could never see it at all. This, as has been
already observed, is seen only by the eye, or the perceptive
faculty of the mind, taking a view of them laid together, in a
juxta-position ; which view of any two it has equally, when-
ever they are laid together in any proposition, whether that
proposition be placed as a major, or a minor, in a syllogism,
or no.

Of what use then are syllogisms ? T answer, their chief and
main use is in the schools, where men are allowed, without shame,
to deny the agreement of ideas that do manifestly agree ; or
out of the schools, to those who from thence have learned,
without shame, to deny the connexion of ideas, which even to
themselves is visible. But to an ingenuous searcher after truth,
who has no other aim but to find it, there is no need of any such
form to force the allowing of the inference : the truth and
reasonableness of it is better seen in ranging of the ideas in a
simple and plain order. And hence it is, that men in their own
enquiries after truth, never use syllogisms to convince them-
selves [or in teaching others to instruct willing learners], because
before they can put them into syllogism, they must see the con-
nexion that is between the intermediate idea, and the two other
ideas it is set between, and applied to, to show their agreement;
and when they see that, they see whether the inference be good
or no, and so syllogism comes too late to settle it. For to make
use again of the former instance, I ask whether the mind, con-
sidering the idea of justice, placed as an intermediate idea be-
tween the punishment of men, and the guilt of the punished
(and, till it does so consider it, the mind cannot make use of it
as a medlus terminus), does, not as jilainly see the force and strength
of the inference, as when it is formed into syllogism '. To show

590 REASON. Book 4.

it ill a very plain and easy example: let animal be the inter-
mediate idea, or mediiis terminus, that the mind makes use of to
show the connexion of fio77io and vivens ; I ask, whether the
mind does not more readily and plainly see the connexion in
the simple and proper position of the connecting idea in the
middle ? Thus,

Homo Animal — - — -Vivens,

Than in this perplexed one.

Animal Vivens Homo Animal.

Which is the position these ideas have in a syllogism, to show
the connexion between homo and vivens by the intervention of
rmimal.

Indeed, syllogism is thought to be of necessary use, even to
the lovers of truth, to show them the fallacies that are often
concealed in florid, witty, or involved discourses. But that this
IS a mistake, will appear, if we consider that the reason why
sometimes men, who sincerely aim at truth, are imposed upon
by such loose, and as they are called, rhetorical, discourses, is,
that their fancies being struck with some lively metaphorical
representations, they neglect to observe, or do not easily perceive,
what are the true ideas upon which the inference depends. Now
to show such men the weakness of such an argumentation, there
needs no more but to strip it of the superfluous ideas, which,
blended and confounded with those on which the inference
depends, seem to show a connexion where there is none, or at
least to hinder the discovery of the want of it ; and then to lay
the naked ideas on which the force of the argumentation depends
in their due order, in which position the mind taking a view of
them, sees what connexion they have, and so is able to judge
of the inference, without any need of a syllogism at all.

I grant that mode and figure is commonly made use of in such
cases, as if the detection of the incoherence of such loose dis-
courses, were wholly owing to the syllogistical form ; and so I
myself formerly thought, till upon a stricter examination, I now
find that laying the intermediate ideas naked in their due order,
shows the incoherence of the argumentation better than syllogism ;
not only as subjecting each link of the chain to the immediate
view of the mind in its proper place, whereby its connexion is
best observed ; but also because syllogism shows the inco-
herence only to those (who are not one of ten thousand) who
perfectly understand mode and figure, and the reason upon
which those forms are established ; whereas a due and orderly

Ch. 17. REASON. 591

placing of the ideas, upon which the inference is made, makes
every one, whether logician, or not logician, who under-
stands the terms, and hath the faculty to perceive the agree-
ment or disagreement of such ideas (without which, in or
out of syllogism, he cannot perceive the strength or weakness,
coherence or incoherence, of the discourse), see the want of
connexion in the argumentation, and the absurdity of the
inference.

And thus I have known a man unskilful in syllogism, who at
first hearing could perceive the weakness and inconclusiveness
of a long, artificial, and plausible discourse, wherewith others
better skilled in syllogism have been misled ; and I believe
there are few of my readers who do not know such. And
indeed, if it were not so, the debates of most princes' councils,
and the business of assemblies, would be in danger to be mis-
managed, since those who are relied upon, and have usually a
great stroke in them, are not always such, who have the good
luck to be perfectly knowing in the forms of syllogism, or expert
in mode and figure. And if syllogism were the only, or so much
as the surest, way to detect the fallacies of artificial discourses,
I do not think that all mankind, even princes in matters that
concern their crowns and dignities, are so much in love with
falsehood and mistake, that they would every where have
neglected to bring syllogism into the debates of moment, or
thought it ridiculous so much as to offer them in affairs of
consequence ; a plain evidence to me, that men of parts and
penetration, who were not idly to dispute at their ease, but were
to act according to the result of their debates, and often pay
for their mistakes with their heads or fortunes, found those
scholastic forms were of little use to discover truth or fallacy,
whilst both the one and the other might be shown, and better
shown, without them, to those who would not refuse to see what
was visibly shown them.

Secondly, Another reason that makes me doubt whether syllo-
gism be the only proper instrument of reason in the discovery
of truth, is, that of whatsoever use mode and figure is pretended
to be in the laying open of fallacy (which has been above
considered), those scholastic forms of discourse are not less
liable to fallacies, than the plainer ways of argumentation ; and
for this I appeal to common observation, which has always found
these artificial methods of reasoning more adapted to catch and
entangle the mind, than to instruct and inform the understand-
ing. And hence it is, that men, even when they are baffled and
silenced in this scholastic way, are seldom or never convinced,
and so brought over to the conquering side ; they perhaps

592 REASON. Book 4

acknowledge their adversary to be the more skilful disputant,
but rest nevertheless persuaded of the truth on their side ; and
go away, worsted as they are, with the same opinion they brought
with them, which they could not do, if this way of argumenta-
tion carried light and conviction with it, and made men see
where the truth lay ; and therefore syllogism has been thought
more proper for the attaining victory in dispute, than for the
discovery or confirmation of truth, in fair enquiries : and if it be
certain, that fallacy can be couched in syllogisms, as it cannot
be denied, it must be something else, and not syllogism, that
must discover them.

I have had experience how ready some men are, when all the
use which they have been wont to ascribe to any thing is not
allowed, to cry out, that I am for laying it wholly aside. But
to prevent such unjust and groundless imputations, I tell them,
that I am not for taking away any helps to the understanding,
in the attainment of knowledge. And if men skilled in, and used
to, syllogisms, and find them assisting to their reason in the
discovery of truth, I think they ought to make use of them.
All that I aim at is, that they should not ascribe more to those
forms, than belongs to them ; and think, that men have no use,
or not so full a use, of their reasoning faculty, without them.
Some eyes want spectacles to see things clearly and distinctly ;
but let not those that use them therefore say nobody can see
clearly without them : those who do so, will be thought in
favour with art (which perhaps they are beholding to) a little
too much to depress and discredit nature. Reason, by its own
penetration, where it is strong and exercised, usually sees
quicker and clearer without syllogism. If use of those spec-
tacles has so dim-med its sight, that it cannot without them see
consequences or inconsequences in argumentation, I am not
so unreasonable as to be against the using them. Every one
knows what best fits his own sight : but let him not thence
conclude all in the dark, who use not just the same helps that
he finds a need of.

§. 5. Helps Utile in demonstration, less in probability . — But
however it be in knowledge, I think I may truly say it is of far
less, or no use at all, in probabilities. For the assent there
being to be determined by the preponderancy, after a due
weighing of all the proof, with all circumstances on both sides,
nothing is so unfit to assist the mind in that, as syllogism;
which running away with one assumed probability, or one
topical argument, pursues that till it has led the mind quite out
of sight of the thing inider consideration ; and forcing it upon
some remote difliculty, holds it fast tliere entangled perhaps.

Ch. 17. REASON. 593

and as it were manacled in the chain of syllogisms, without
allowing it the liberty, much less affording it the helps, requisite
to show on which side, all things considered, is the greater
probability.

§. 6. Serves not to encrease our knowledge, but fence with it. —
But let it help us (as perhaps may be said) in convincing men of
their errors and mistakes (and yet I would fain see the man
that was forced out of his opinion by dint of syllogism) : yet still
it fails our reason in that part, which, if not its highest per-
fection, is yet certainly its hardest tasic,, and that which we
most need its help in ; and that is, the finding out of proofs,
and making new discoveries. The rules of syllogism serve not
to furnish the mind with those intermediate ideas that may show
the connexion of remote ones. This way of reasoning discovers
no new proofs, but is the art of marshalling and ranging the old
ones we have already. The forty-seventh proposition of the
first book of Euclid, is very true ; but the discovery of it, I
think, not owing to any rules of common logic. A man knows
first, and then he is able to prove syllogistically ; so that syllogism
comes after knowledge, and then a man has little or no need of
it. But it is chiefly by the finding out those ideas that show
the connexion of distant ones, that our stock of knowledge is
encreased; and that useful arts and sciences are advanced.
Syllogism, at best, is but the art of fencing with the little
knowledge we have, without making any addition to it. And
if a man should employ his reason all this way, he will not do
much otherwise than he, who having got some iron out of the
bowels of the earth, should have it beaten up all into swords,
and put it into his servants' hands to fence with, and bang one
another. Had the King of Spain employed the hands of his
people, and his Spanish iron so, he had brought to light but
little of that treasure that lay so long hid in the entrails
of America. And I am apt to think, that he who shall employ
all the force of his reason only in brandishing of syllogisms,
will discover very little of that mass of knowledge which lies
yet concealed in the secret recesses of nature ; and which, I am
apt to think, native rustic reason (as it foraierly has done) is
likelier to open a way to, and add to the common stock of
mankind, rather than any scholastic proceeding by the strict
rules of mode and figure.

§. 7, Other helps should be sought. — I doubt not, never-
theless, but there are ways to be found to assist our reason in
this most useful part; and this the judicious Hooker encourages
me to say, who in his Eccl. Pol. 1. 1, §. 6, speaks thus: *' If
there might be added the right helps of true art and learning

Q Q

594 REASON. Book 4.

(which helps I must plainly confess, this age of the world,
carrying the name of a learned age, doth neither much know,
nor generally regard), there would undoubtedly be almost as
much difference in maturity of judgment between men therewith
inured, and that which men now are, as between men that are
now, and innocents." I do not pretend to have found or
discovered here any of those right helps of art this great man
of deep thought mentions : but this is plain, that syllogism,
and the logic nov/ in use, which were as well known in his
days, can be none of those he means. It is sufficient for me,
if by a discourse perhaps something out of the way, I am sure
as to me wholly new and unborrowed.' I shall have given
occasion to others to cast about for new discoveries, and to
seek in their own thoughts for those right helps of art which
will scarce be found, I fear, by those who servilely confine
themselves to the rules and dictates of others : for beaten tracks
lead this sort of cattle (as an observing Roman calls them),
whose thoughts reach only to imitation, non quo eundum est,
sed quo iter. But I can be bold to say, that this age is adorned
with some men of that strength of judgment, and largeness of
comprehension, that if they would employ their thoughts on
this subject, could open new and undiscovered w^ays to the
advancement of knowledge.

§. 8. We reason ahoul pariiciilars. — Having here had an
occasion to speak of syllogism in general, and the use of it in
reasoning, and the improvei:iient of our knowledge, it is fit,
before I leave this subject, to take notice of one manifest
mistake in the rules of syllogism, viz., that no syllogistical
reasoning can be right and conclusive, but what has, at least,
one general proposition in it. As if we could not reason, and
have knowledge, about particulars. Whereas, in truth, the
matter rightly considered, the immediate object of all our
reasoning and knowledge, is nothing but particulars. Every
man's reasoning and knowledge is only about the ideas existing
in his own mind, which are truly, every one of them, particular
existences; and our knowledge and reason about other
things, is only as they correspond with those of our particular
ideas. So that the perception of the agreement or disagreement
of our particular ideas, is the whole and utmost of all our
knowledge. Universality is but accidental to it, and consists
only in this, that the particular ideas about which it is, are
such, as more than one particular thing can correspond with,
and be represented by. But the perception of the agreement
or disagreement of any two ideas, consequently our own know-
ledge, is equally clear and certain, whether either, or both, or

Ch, 17. REASON. 595

neither, of those ideas be capable of representing more real
beings than one, or no. One thing more I crave leave to offei
about syllogism, before 1 leave it, viz., may one not upon just
ground enquire whether the form syllogism now has, is that
which in reason it ought to have? For the medius terminus
being to join the extremes, i. e. the intermediate idea by its
intervention, to show the agreement or disagreement of the
two in question; would not the position of the medius terminus
be more natural, and show the agreement or disagreement of the
extremes clearer and better, if it were placed in the middle
between them? Which might be easily done by transposing
the propositions, and making the medius terminus the predicate
of the first, and the subject of the second. As thus,

" Omnis homo est animal,
Orane auimal est vivens,
Ergo omnis ]iomo est vivens."

" Omne corpus est extensuni et solidiim,
Nullum extensum et soliilura est jnira extensio.
Ergo corpus nou est pura extensio."

I need not trouble my reader with instances in syllogisms,
whose conclusions are particular. The same reason holds for
the same form in them, as well as in the general.

§. 9. First, reason fails us for want of ideas. — Reason,
though it penetrates into the depths of the sea and earth, ele-
vates our thoughts as high as the stars, and leads us through
the vast spaces and large rooms of this mighty fabric, yet it
«omes far short of the real extent of even corporeal being ; and
there are many instances wherein it fails us: as.

First, It perfectly fails us, where our ideas fail. It neither
<loes, nor can, extend itself flirther than they do. And therefore
wherever we have no ideas, our reasoning stpps, and we are at
an end of our reckoning : and if at any time we reason about
words, which do not stand for any ideas, it is only about tliose
sounds, and nothino- else.

§. 10. Secondly, because of obscure and imperfect ideas. —
Secondly, Our reason is often puzzled, and at a loss, because of
the obscurity, confusion, or imperfection of the ideas it is
employed about ; and there we are involved in difficulties and
contradictions. Thus, not having any perfect idea of the least
extension of matter, nor of infinity, we are at a loss about the
divisibility of matter; but having perfect, clear, and distinct
ideas of number, our reason meets with none of those inextri-
cable difficulties in numbers, nor finds itself involved m any
contradictions about them. Thus, we having but imperfect ideas
of the operations of our minds, and of the beginning of motion

Q Q 2

596 REASON. Book 4.

or thought, how the mind produces either of them in us ; and
much more imperfect yet of the operation of God; run into great
difficulties about free created agents, which reason cannot well
extricate itself out of.

§. 11. Thirdly, for ivant of intermediate ideas. — Thirdly,
Our reason is often at a stand, because it perceives not those
ideas, which could serve to show the certain or probable agree-
ment or disagreement of any other two ideas : and in this some
men's faculties far outgo others. Till algebra, that great instru-
ment and instance of human sagacity, was discovered, men,
with amazement, looked on several of the demonstrations of
ancient mathematicians, and could scarce forbear to think the
finding several of those proofs to be something more than human.

§. 12. Fourthly, because of wrong principles. — Fourthly, The
mind by proceeding upon false principles, is often engaged in
absurdities and difficulties, brought into straights and contra-
dictions, without knowing how to free itself: and in that case
it is in vain to implore the help of reason, unless it be to
discover the falsehood, and reject the influence, of those wrong
principles. Reason is so far from clearing the difficulties
which the building upon false foundations brings a man into,
that if he will pursue it, it entangles him the more, and engages
him deeper in perplexities.

§. 13. Fifthly, because of doubtful terms. — Fifthly, As ob-
scure and imperfect ideas often involve our reason, so upon the
seme ground do dubious words, and uncertain signs, often in
discourses and arguings, when not warily attended to, puzzle
men's reason, and bring them to a nonplus : but these two latter
are our fault, and not the fault of reason. But yet the conse-
quences of them are nevertheless obvious ; and the perplexities
or errors they fill men's minds with, are every where observable.

§. 14. Our highest degree of knowledge, is intuitive, without
reasoning. — Some of the ideas that are in the mind, are so there,
that they can be by themselves immediately compared one with
another: and in these the mind is able to perceive, that they agree,
or disagree, as clearly as that it has them. Thus the mind per-
ceives, that an arch of a circle is less than the whole circle, as
clearly as it does the idea of a circle : and this, therefore, as has
been said, I call intuitive knowledge, which is certain, beyond all
doubt, and needs no probation, nor can have any ; this being the
highest of all human certainty. In this consists the evidence of all
those maxims which nobody has any doubt about, but every man
(does not, as is said, only assent to, but) knows to be true, as soon
as ever they are proposed to his understanding. In the discovery
of, and assent to, these truths, there is no use of the discursive

Ch. 17. KEA80N. 5«7

faculty, no need of reasoning, but they are known by a superior
and higher degree of evidence. And such, if I may guess at things
unknown, I am apt to think that angels have now, and the spirit^
of just men made perfect, shall have, in a future state, of thou-
sands of things, which now either wholly escape our apprehen-
sions, or which our short-sighted reason having got some faint
glimpse of, we, in the dark, grope after.

§. 15. The next is demonstration hy reasoning. — But though
we have here and there a little of this clear light, some sparks
of bright knowledge ; yet the greatest part of our ideas are
such, that we cannot discern their agreement or disagreement,
by an immediate comparing them. And in all these we have
need of reasoning, and must, by discourse and inference, make
our discoveries. Now, of these there are two sorts, which I
shall take the liberty to mention here again :

First, Those whose agreement or disagreement, though it
cannot be seen by an immediate putting them together, yet may
be examined by the intervention of other ideas, which can be
compared with them. In this case, when the agreement or
disagreement of the intermediate idea, on both sides with those
which we would compare, is plainly discerned, there it amounts
to a demonstration, whereby knowledge is produced, which
though it be certain, yet it is not so easy, nor altogether so clear,
as intuitive knowledge ; because in that there is barely one
simple intuition, wherein there is no room for any the least
mistake or doubt ; the truth is seen all perfectly at once. In
demonstration, it is true, there is intuition too, but not alto-
gether at once : for there must be a remembrance of the intuition
of the agreement of the medium, or intermediate idea, with
that we compared it with before, when we compare it with the
other ; and where there be many mediums, there the dano-er of
the mistake is the greater. For each agreement or disagree-
ment of the ideas, must be observed and seen in each step of
the whole train, and retained in the memory, just as it is, and
the mind must be sure that no part of what is necessary to
make up the demonstration, is omitted or over-looked. This
makes some demonstrations long and perplexed, and too hard
for those who have not strength of parts distinctly to perceive,
and exactly carry so many particulars orderly in their heads.
And even those, who are able to master such intricate specu-
lations, are fain sometimes to go over them again, and there is
need of more than one review before they can arrive at cer-
tainty. But yet where the mind clearly retains the intuition it
had of the agreement of any idea with another, and that with a
third, and that with a fourth, &c., there the agreement of the

y g 3

698 KEASON. Book 4-

first and the fourth is a demonstration, and produces certain
knowledge, which may be called rational knowledge, as the
other is intuitive.

§. 16, To supply the narrowness of this, ive have nothing hut
judgment upon probable reasoning.— -Secondly, There are other
ideas, whose agreement or disagreement can no otherwise be
judged of, but by the intervention of others, which have not a
certain agreement with the extremes, but an usual or likely one;
and in these it is, that the judgment is properly exercised, which
is the acquiescing of the mind, that any ideas do agree, by
comparing them with such probable mediums. This, though
it never amounts to knowledge, noy.'ftot to that which is the
lowest degree of it; yet sometimes the intermediate ideas
tie the extremes so firmly together, and the probability is so
clear and strong, that assent as necessarily follows it, as know-
ledge does demonstration. The great excellency and use of
the judgment is to observe right, and take a true estimate of
the force and weight of each probability ; and then casting
them up all right together, choose that side which has the over-
balance.

§. 17. Intuition, demonstration, judgment. — Intuitive know-
ledge, is the perception of the certain agreement or disagree-
ment of two ideas, immediately compared together.

Rational knowledge, is the perception of the certain agreement
or disagreement of any two ideas, by the intervention of one or
more other ideas.

Judgment, is the thinking or taking two ideas to agree or dis-
agree by the intervention of one or more ideas, whose certain
agreement or disagreement with them it does not perceive, but
hath observed to be frequent and usual.

§. 18. Consequences of words, and consequences of ideas. —
Though the deducing one proposition from another, or making
inferences in words, be a great part of reason, and that which
it is usually employed about, yet the principal act of ratio-
cination, is the finding the agreement or disagreement of two
ideas one with another, by the intervention of a third. As a
man, by a yard, finds two houses to be of the same length,
which could not be brought together to measure their equality
by juxta-position. Words have their consequences, as the signs
of such ideas : and things agree or disagree, as really they are ;
but we observe it only by our ideas.

^. 19. Four sorts of arguments. First, ad verecundiam. —
Before we quit this subject, it may be worth our while a little
to reflect on four sorts of arguments, that men in their
reasonings with others do ordinarily make use of, to prevail on

Ch. 17. REASON. 599

their assent; or at least so to awe thein, as to silence their
opposition.

First, The first is, to allege the opinions of men, whose
parts, learning, eminency, power, or some other cause, has
gained a name, and settled their reputation in the common
esteem with some kind of authority. When men are esta-
blished in any kind of dignity, it is thought a breach of
modesty for others to derogate any way from it, and question
the authority of men, who are in possession of it. This is apt
to be censured, as carrying with it too much of pride, when a
man does not readily yield to the determination of approved
authors, which is wont to be received with respect and sub-
mission by others ; and it is looked upon as insolence for a man
to set up, and adhere to, his own opinion, against the current
stream of antiquity ; or .to put it in the balance against that of
some learned doctor, or otherwise approved writer. Whoever
backs his tenets with such authorities, thinks he ought thereby
to carry the cause, and is ready to style it impudence in any
one who shall stand out against them. This, I think, may be
called arc/umentmn ad verecundiam .

§. 20. Secondly, ad {(ftiorantiam. — Secondly, Another way
that men ordinarily use to drive others, and force them to
submit their judgments, and receive the opinion in debate, is to
require the adversary to admit what they allege as a proof, or
to assig'n a better. And this I call argumentum ad igno-
rantiam.

§. 21. Thirdly, ad hominem. — A third way is to press
a man with consequences drawn from his own principles or
concessions. This is already known under the name of argu-
mentum ad hominem.

§. 22. Fourthly, ad judicium. — The fourth is the using of
proofs drawn from any of the foundations of knowledge
or probability. This I call argumentum ad judicium. This
alone of all the four, brings true instruction with it, and
advances us in our way to knowledge. For, 1, It argues not
another man's opinion to be right, because I, out of respect, or
any other consideration"", but that of conviction, will not con-
tradict him. 2, It proves not another man to be in the right
way, nor that I ought to take the same with him, because I
know not a better. 3, Nor does it follow, that another man is
in the right way, because he has shown me that I am in the
wrong. I may be modest, and, therefore, not oppose another
man's persuasion ; I may be ignorant, and not be able to pro-
duce a better; I may be in an error, and another may show me
that I am so. This may dispose me, perhaps, for the reception,

Q Q 4

600 KEASON. Booki,

of truth, but helps me not to it ; that must come from proofs
and arguments, and light arising from the nature of things
themselves, and not from my shamefacedness, ignorance, or
error.

§. 23. Above, contrary, and according to reason.— By what
has been before said of reason, we may be able to make some
guess at the distinction of things, into those that are according
to, above, and contrary to reason. 1, According to reason, are
such propositions, whose truth we can discover, by examining
and tracing those ideas we have from sensation and reflection ;
and by natural deduction find to be true or probable. 2,
Above reason, are such propositions, whose truth or probability
we cannot, by reason, derive from those principles. 3, Contrary
to reason, are such propositions, as are inconsistent with, or
irreconcilable to, our clear and distinct ideas. Thus the
existence of one God, is according to reason : the existence of
more than one God, contrary to reason : the resurrection of
the dead, above reason. Farther, as above reason may be taken
in a double sense, viz., either as signifying above probability, or
above certainty ; so in that large sense also, contrary to reason,
is, I suppose, sometimes taken.

§. 24. Reason and faith not opposite. — There is another use
of the word reason, wherein it is opposed to faith : which,
though it be in itself a very improper way of speaking, yet common
use has so authorised it, that it would be folly either to oppose
or hope to remedy it : only I think it may not be amiss to take
notice, that however faith be opposed to reason, faith is
nothing but a firm assent of the mind ; which if it be regu-
lated, as is our duty, cannot be aftbrded to any thing, but
upon good reason, and so cannot be opposite to it. He that
believes, without having any reason for believing, may be in
love with his own fancies ; but neither seeks truth as he
ought, nor yjays the obedience due to his Maker, who would
have him use those discerning faculties he has given him, to
keep him out of mistake and error. He that does not this,
to the best of his power, however he sometimes lights on
truth, is in the right but by chance ; and I know not whether
the luckiness of the accident will excuse the irregularity of
his proceeding. This, at least, is certain, that he must be
accountable for whatever mistakes he runs into ; whereas, he
that makes use of the light and faculties God has given
him, and seeks sincerely to discover truth, by those helps
and abilities he has, may have this satisfaction in doing his
duty as a rational creature, that though he should miss truth,
he will not miss the reward of it ; for he governs his assent

Ch. 18. FAITH AND REASON. «0l

right, and places it as he should, who, in any case or matter
whatsoever, believes or disbelieves according as reason directs
him. He that doth otherwise, transgresses against his own
light, and misuses those faculties which were given him to no
other end, but to search and follow the clearer evidence, and
greater probability. But since reason and faith are by some
men opposed, we will so consider them in the following chapter.

CHAPTER XVIII.

OF FAITH AND REASON, AND THEIR DISTINCT PROVINCES.

§. 1. Necessary to know their boundaries. — It has been
above shown. First, That we are of necessity ignorant, and want
knowledge of all sorts, where we want ideas. Secondbj, That
we are ignorant, and want rational knowledge, where we want
proofs. Thirdly, That we want general knowledge and certainty,
as far as we want clear and determined specific ideas. Fourthly,
That we want probability to direct our assent in matters where
we have neither knowledge of our own, nor testimony of other
men, to bottom our reason upon.

From these things thus premised, I think we may come
to lay down the measures and boundaries between faith and
reason ; the want thereof may possibly have been the cause,
if not of great disorders, yet, at least, of great disputes, and
perhaps mistakes, in the world ; for until it be resolved how far
we are to be guided by reason, and how far by faith, we shall
in vain dispute, and endeavour to convince one another in
matters of religion.

§. 2. Faith and reason what, as contra-distinguished. — I find
every sect, as far as reason will help them, make use of it
gladly ; and where it fails them, they cry out, it is matter of
faith, and above reason. And I do not see how they can argue
with any one, or ever convince a gainsayer, who makes use of
the same plea, without setting down strict boundaries between
faith and reason, which ought to be the first point established
in all questions, where faith has any thing to do.

Reason, therefore, here, as contra-distinguished to faith, I take
to be the discovery of the certainty or probability of such
propositions or truths, which the mind arrives at by deduction
made from such ideas which it has got by the use of its natural
faculties, viz., by sensation or reflection.

Faith, on the other side, is the assent to any proposition, not

002 FAITH AND REASON. Book 4.

thus made out by the deductions of reason, but upon the credit
of" the projDOser, as coming from God in some extraordinary
way of communication. This way of discovering truths to men,
we call revelation.

§. 3. No neio simple idea can he conveyed hy traditional reve-
lation.— First, then, I say, that no man, inspired by God, can by
any revelation, communicate to others any new simple ideas,
which they had not before from sensation or reflection ; for
whatsoever impressions he himself may have from the immediate
hand of God, this revelation, if it be of new simple ideas,
cannot be conveyed to another, either by words or any other
signs ; because words, by their immediate operation on us,
cause no other ideas but of their natural sounds ; and it is by
the custom of using them for signs, that they excite and revive
in our minds latent ideas ; but yet only such ideas as were there
before. For words seen or heard, recal to our thoughts those
ideas only, which to us the}'^ have been wont to be signs of; but
cannot introduce any perfectly new, and formerly unknown,
simple ideas. The same holds in all other signs, which cannot
signify to us things of which we have before never had any
idea at all.

Thus whatever things were discovered to St'. Paul when he
was wrapped up into the third Heaven, whatever new ideas his
mind there received, all the description he can make to others
of that place, is only this, that there are such things as " eye hath
not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of
man to conceive." And supposing God should discover to any
one, supernaturally, a species of creatures inhabiting, for ex-
ample, Jupiter or Saturn (for that it is possible there may be
such, nobody can deny), which had six senses; and imprint on
his mind the ideas conveyed to theirs by that sixth sense, he
could no more, by words, produce in the minds of other men
those ideas, imprinted by that sixth sense, than one of us could
convey the idea of any colour by the sounds of words into a
man, who having the other four senses perfect, had always to-
tally wanted the fifth, of seeing. For our simple ideas, then,
which are the foundation and sole matter of all our notions and
knowledge, we must depend wholly on our reason, I mean our
natural faculties, and can by no means receive them, or any of
them, from traditional revelation; I say, traditional revelation,
in distinction to Original revelation. By the one, I mean that
first impression which is made immediately by God, on the mind
of any man, to which we cannot set any bounds ; and by the
other, those impressions delivered over to others in words, and
the ordinary ways of conveying our conceptions one to another.

Ch. 18. FAITH AND REASON. 003

§. 4. Traditional revelation may make us know propositions
knowahle also hy reason, hut not with the same certainty that reason
doth. — Secondly, I say, that the same truths may be discovered,
and conveyed down from revelation, which are discoverable to
us by rfeason, and by those ideas we naturally may have. So
God might, by revelation, discover the truth of any pro]:>osition
in Euclid ; as well as men, by the natural use of their faculties,
come to make the discovery themselves. In all things of this
kind, there is little need or use of revelation, God having fur-
nished us with a natural and surer means to arrive at the know-
ledge of them. For whatsoever truth we come to the clear dis-
covery of, from the knowledge and contemplation of our own
ideas, will always be more certain to us, than those wliich are
conveyed to us by traditional revelation. For the knowledo-e we
have that this relation came at first from God, can never be so
sure as the knowledge we have from the clear and distinct per-
ception of the agreement or disagreement of our own ideas, v. g,
if it were revealed some ages since, that the three ancles of a
triangle were equal to two right ones, I might assent to the truth
of that proposition, upon the credit of the tradition, that it was
revealed. But that would never amount to so great a certainty
as the knowledge of it, upon the comparing and measuring my
own ideas of two right angles, and the tliree angles of a triano-Ie.
The like holds in matter of fact, knowable by our senses, v. g.
the history of the deluge is conveyed to us by writino-s, which
had their original from revelation ; and yet nobody, I think, will
say, he has as certain and clear a knowledge of the flood, as
Noah, that saw it; or that he himself would have had, had he
then been alive, and seen it. For he has no greater an assurance
than that of his senses, that it is writ in the book supposed writ
by Moses, inspired ; but he has not so great an assurance that
Moses writ that book, as if he had seen Moses write it. So that
the assurance of its being a revelation, is less still than the
assurance of his senses.

§. 5. Revelation cannot be admitted against the clear evidence
of reason. — In propositions then, whose certainty is built upon
the clear perception of the agreement or disagreement of our
ideas, attained either by immediate intuition, as in self evident
propositions, or by evident deductions of reason in demonstra-
tions, we need not the assistance of revelation, as necessary to
gain our assent, and introduce them into our minds ; because
the natural ways of knowledge could settle them there, or had
done it already, which is the greatest assurance we can possibly
have of any thing, unless where God immediately reveals it to
us. And there too our assurance can be no greater than our

«04 rAl'I'H AND REASON. Book 4.

knowledge is, that it is a revelation from God. But yet nothing
I think can, under that title, shake or even overrule plain know-
ledge, or rationally prevail with any man to admit it for true, in
a direct contradiction to the clear evidence of his own under-
standing. For since no evidence of our faculties, by which we
receive such revelations, can exceed, if equal, the certainty of
our intuitive knowledge, we can never receive for a truth any
thing that is directly contrary to our clear and distinct know-
ledge, v. g. the ideas of one body and one place, do so clearly
agree, and the mind has so evident a perception of their agree-
ment, that we can never assent to a proposition that affirms the
same body to be in two distant places at once, however it should
pretend to the authority of a divine revelation ; since the evi-
dence. First, That we deceive not ourselves in ascribing it to
God ; Secondly, That we understand it right ; can never be so
great, as the evidence of our own intuitive knowledge, whereby
we discern it impossible for the same body to be in two places
at once. And therefore no proposition can be received for divine
revelation, or obtain the assent due to all such, if it be contra-
dictory to our clear and intuitive knowledge. Because this
would be to subvert the principles and foundations of all know-
ledge, evidence, and assent whatsoever ; and there would be left
no difference between truth and falsehood, no measures of cre-
dible and incredible in the world, if doubtful propositions shall
take place before self-evident ; and what we certainly know,
give way to what we may possibly be mistaken in. In propo-
sitions, therefore, contrary to the clear perception of the agree-
ment or disagreement of any of our ideas, it will be in vain to
urge them as matters of faith. They cannot move our assent, under
that or any other title whatsoever : for faith can never convince
us of any thing that contradicts our knowledge, because, though
faith be founded on the testimony of God (who cannot lie), re-
vealing any proposition to us ; yet we cannot have an assurance
of the truth of its being a divine revelation, greater than our
own knowledge : since the whole strength of the certainty de-
pends upon our knowledge, that God revealed it, which in this
case, where the proposition supposed revealed contradicts our
knowledge or reason, will always have this objection hanging to
it, viz., that we cannot tell how to conceive that to come from
God, the bountiful Author of our beino;, which, if received for
true, must overturn all the principles and foundations of know-
ledge he has given us; render all our faculties useless; wholly
destroy the most excellent part of his workmanship, our under-
standings ; and put a man in a condition, wherein he will have
less light, less conduct, than the beast that perisheth. For if

Ch. 18. FAITH AND REASON. 606

the mind of man can never have a clearer (and perhaps not so
clear) evidence of any thing to be a divine revelation, as it has
of the principles of its own reason, it can never have a ground to
quit the clear evidence of its reason, to give place to a propo-
sition, whose revelation has not a greater evidence than those
principles have.

§. 6. Traditional revelation much less. — Thus far a man has
use of reason, and ought to hearken to it, even in immediate and
original revelation, where it is supposed to be made to himself:
but to all those who pretend not to immediate revelation, but
are required to pay obedience, and to receive the truths revealed
to others, which, by the tradition of writings, or word of mouth,
are conveyed down to them, reason has a great deal more to do,
and is that only which can induce us to receive them. For
matter of faith being only divine revelation, and nothing else;
faith, as we use the word (called commonly divine faith),
has to do with no propositions, but those which are supposed to
be divinely revealed. So that I do not see how those, who
make revelation alone the sole object of faith, can say, that it
is a matter of faith, and not of reason, to believe, that such or
such a proposition, to be found in such or such a book, is of
divine inspiration ; unless it be revealed, that that propo-
sition, or all in that book, was communicated by divine
inspiration. Without such a revelation, the believing or not
believing that proposition, or book, to be of divine authority,
can never be matter of faith, but matter of reason ; and such
as I must come to an assent to, only by the use of my reason,
which can never require or enable me to believe that which is
contrary to itself; it being impossible for reason ever to
procure any assent to that, which to itself appears unreasonable.
In all things, therefore, where we have clear evidence from
our ideas, and those principles of knowledge I have above-
mentioned, reason is the proper judge; and revelation, though
it may in consenting with it confirm its dictates, yet cannot
in such cases invalidate its decrees : nor can we be obliged,
where we have the clear and evident sentence of reason, to quit
it for the contrary opinion, under a pretence that it is a matter of
faith ; which can have no authority against the plain and clear
dictates of reason.

§. 7. Things above reason, — But, Thirdly, there being many
things, wherein we have very imperfect notions, or none at all ;
and other things, of whose past, present, or future existence, by
the natural use of our faculties, we can have no knowledge at
all, these, as being beyond the discovery of our natural faculties,
and above reason, are, when revealed, the proper matter of faith.

006 FAITH AND REASON. Book A.

Thus, that part of the angels rebelled against God, and thereby
lost their first happy state ; and that the dead shall rise, and live
again : these, and the like, being beyond the discovery of reason,
are purely matters of faith ; with which reason has directly
nothing to do.

§. 8. Or not contrary to reason, if revealed, are matter of
faith. — But, since God in giving us the light of reason, has not
thereby tied up his own hand from affording us, when he thinks
fit, the light of revelation in any of those matters, wherein our
natural faculties are able to give a probable determination ;
revelation, where God has been pleased to give it, must carry it
against the probable conjectures of reason, because the mind not
being certain of the truth of that it does not evidently know,
but only yielding to the probability that appears in it, is bound
to give up its assent to such a testimony ; which, it is satisfied,
comes from one who cannot err, and will not deceive. But yet
it still belongs to reason, to judge of the truth of its being
a revelation, and of the signification of the words wherein
it is delivered. Indeed, if any thing shall be thought reve-
lation, which is contrary to the plain principles of reason, and
the evident knowledge the mind has of its own clear and
distinct ideas, there reason must be hearkened to, as to a matter
within its province. Since a man can never have so certain
a knowledge, that a proposition, which contradicts the clear
principles and evidence of his own knowledge, was divinely
revealed, or that he understands the words rightly, wherein
it is delivered, as he has, that the contrary is true ; and so is
bound to consider and judge of it as a matter of reason, and
not swallow it, without examination, as a matter of faith,

§. 9. Revelatio7i in matters where reason cannot judge, or hut
probably, ought to be hearkened to. — i^iVs^jM'^hatever proposition
is revealed, of whose truth our mind, by its natural faculties and
notions, cannot judge, that is purely matter of faith, and above
reason.

Secondly, All propositions, whereof the mind, by the use of
its natural faculties, can come to determine and judge, from
naturally acquired ideas, are matter of reason ; with this differ-
ence still, that in those concerning which it has but an uncer-
tain evidence, and so is persuaded of their truth, only upon pro-
bable grounds, which still admit a possibility of the contrary to
be true, without doing violence to the certain evidence of its
own knowledge, and overturning the principles of its own reason,
in such probable propositions, I say, an evident revelation ought
to determine our assent even against probability. For where the
principles of reason have not evidenced a proposition to be cer^

Ch. 18. FAITH AND REASON. G07

tainly true or false, there clear revelation, as another principle of
truth, and ground of assent, may determine ; and so it may be
matter of faith, and be also above reason : because reason, in that
particular matter, being able to reach no higher than probability,
faith gave the determination where reason came short ; and
revelation discovered on which side the truth lay.

§. 10. In matters where reason can afford certain knowledge,
that is to he hearkened to. — Thus far the dominion of faith
reaches, and that without any violence or hinderance to reason ;
which is not injured, or disturbed, but assisted and improved, by
new discoveries of trulh, coming from the eternal fountain of all
knowledge. Whatever God hath revealed, is certainly true ;
no doubt can be made of it. This is the proper object of faith :
but whether it be a divine revelation, or no, reason must judge ;
which can never permit the mind to reject a greater evidence,
to embrace what is less evident, nor allow it to entertain pro-
bability in opposition to knowledge and certainty. There can
be no evidence, that any traditional revelation is of divine
original, in the words we receive it, and in the sense we under-
stand it, so clear, and so certain, as that of the principles of
reason : and therefore, nothing that is contrary to, and incon-
sistent with, the clear and self-evident dictates of reason, has
a right to be urged or assented to, as a matter of faith, wherein
reason hath nothing to do. Whatsoever is divine revelation,
ought to over-rule all our opinions, prejudices, and interests,
and hath a right to be received with full assent ; such a sub-
mission as this of our reason to faith, takes not away the land-
marks of knowledge : this shakes not the foundationsof reason, but
leaves us that use of our faculties, for which they were given us.

§. 11. If the boundaries be not set between faith and reasoyi,
no enthusiasm, or extravagancy in religion, can he contradicted.
— If the provinces of faith and reason are not kept distinct by
these boundaries, theie will, in matters of religion, be no room
for reason at all ; and those extravagant opinions and ceremonies,
that are to be found in the several religions of the world, will
not deserve to be blamed. For, to this crying up of faith, in
opposition to reason, we may, I think, in good measure, ascribe
those absurdities that fill almost all the religions which possess
and divide mankind. For men having been principled with an
opinion, that they must not consult reason in the things of
religion, however apparently contradictory to common sense,
and the very principles of all their knowledge, have let loose
their fancies, and natural superstition ; and have been, by them,
led into so strange opinions, and extravagant practices, in religion.
that a considerate man cannot but stand amazed at their follies.

(JOB ENTHUSIASM. Book 4.

and judge them so far from being acceptable to the great and
wise God, that he cannot avoid thinking them ridiculous and
offensive to a sober, good, man. So that, in effect, religion,
which should most distinguish us from beasts, and ought most
peculiarly to elevate us, as rational creatures, above brutes, is
that wherein men often appear most irrational, and more sense-
less than beasts themselves. Credo, quia impossibile est: I
believe, because it is impossible, might in a good man pass for
a sally of zeal ; but would prove a very ill rule for men to choose
their opinions or religion by.

CHAPTER XIX.

OF ENTHUSIASM,

§. 1. Love of truth necessary. — He that would seriously set
upon the search of truth, ought in the first place to prepare his
mind with a love of it : for he that loves it not, will not take
much pains to get it, nor be much concerned when he misses
it. There is nobody in the commonwealth of learning, who
does not profess himself a lover of truth : and there is not a
rational creature that would not take it amiss to be thought
otherwise of. And yet for all this, one may truly say, that there
are very few lovers of truth for truth's sake, even amongst those
who persuade themselves that they are so. How a man may
know whether he be so in earnest, is worth enquiry : and I
think there is one unerring mark of it, viz., the not enter-
taining any proposition with greater assurance, than the proofs
it is built upon will warrant. Whoever goes beyond this
measure of assent, it is plain, receives not truth in the love of
it; loves not truth for truth's sake, but for some other by-end.
For the evidence that any proposition is true (except such as
are self-evident) lying only in the proofs a man has of it,
whatsoever degrees of assent he affords it beyond the degrees
of that evidence, it is plain, that all the surplusage of assurance
is owing to some other affection, and not to the love of truth :
it being as impossible, that the love of truth should carry my
assent above the evidence there is to me that it is true, as that
the love of truth should make me assent to any proposition, for
the sake of that evidence, which it has not, that it is true ; which
is, in effect, to love it as a truth, because it is possible or
probable that it may not be true. In any truth that gets not
possession of our minds by the irresistible light of self-evidence,
or by the force of demonstration, the arguments that gain it

Ck. 19. ENTHUSIASM. 009

assent, are the vouchers and gage of its probability to us ; and
we can receive it for no other than such as they deliver it to
our understandings. Whatsoever credit or authority we give to
any proposition more than it receives from the principles and
proofs it supports itself upon, is owing to our inclinations that
way, and is so far a derogation from the love of truth, as such:
which, as it can receive no evidence from our passions or
interests, so it should receive no tincture from them,

§. 2. A forwardness to dictate, from whence. — The assuming
an authority of dictating to others, and a forwardness to pre-
scribe to their opinions, is a constant concomitant of this bias
and corruption of our judgments : for how almost can it be other-
wise, but that he should be ready to impose on another's belief,
who has already imposed on his own? Who can reasonably
expect arguments and conviction from him, in dealing with
others, whose understanding is not accustomed to them in his
dealing with himself? Who does violence to his own faculties,
tyrannizes over his own mind, and usurps the prerogative that
belongs to truth alone, which is to command assent by only its
own authority, i. e. by and in proportion to that evidence which
it carries with it.

§. 3. Force of enthusiasm. — Upon this occasion, I shall take
the liberty to consider a third ground of assent, which, with
some men, has the same authority, and is as confidently relied
on, as either faith or reason : I mean enthusiasm. Which,
laying by reason, would set up revelation without it. Whereby,
in effect, it takes away both reason and revelation, and substi->
tutes in the room of it the ungrounded fancies of a man's own
brain, and assumes them for a foundation, both of opinion and
conduct.

§. 4. Reason and revelation. — Reason is natural revelation,
whereby the eternal Father of light, and fountain of all know-
ledge, communicates to mankind that portion of truth which
he has laid within the reach of their natural faculties. Reve-
lation is natural reason enlarged by a new set of discoveries,
communicated by God immediately, which reason vouches the
truth of, by the testimony and proofs it gives, that they come
from God. So that he that takes away reason, to make way
for revelation, puts out the light of both, and does much what
the same, as if he would persuade a man to put out his eyes,
the better to receive the remote light of an invisible star by a
telescope.

§. 5. Rise of enthusiasm. — Immediate revelation being a much
easier way for men to establish their opinions, and regulate
their conduct, than the tedious and not always successful labour

E R

mo ENTHUSIASM. Book 'i.

of" strict reasoning, it is no wonder that some have been very
apt to pretend to revelation, and to persuade themselves that
they are under the peculiar guidance of heaven, in their actions
and opinions, especially in those of them which they cannot
account for by the ordinary methods of knowledge, and prin-
ciples of reason. Hence we see, that in all ages, men, in whom
melancholy has mixed with devotion, or whose conceit of
themselves has raised them into an opinion of a greater fami-
liarity with God, and a nearer admittance to his favour than
is afforded to others, have often flattered themselves with a
persuasion of an immediate intercourse with the Deity, and
frequent communications from the Divine Spirit. God, I own,
cannot be denied to be able to enlighten the understanding
by a ray darted into the mind immediately from the fountain of
light. This they understand he has promised to do ; and who
then has so good a title to expect it, as those who are his
peculiar people chosen by him, and depending on him 'I

§. 6. Enthusiasm. — Their minds being thus prepared, what-
ever groundless opinion comes to settle itself strongly upon
their fancies, is an illumination from the spirit of God, and
presently of divine authority : and whatsoever odd action they
find in themselves a strong inclination to do, that impulse is
concluded to be a call or direction from heaven, and must be
obeyed ; it is a commission from above, and they cannot err in
executing: it.

§. 7. This I take to be properly enthusiasm, which, though
founded neither on reason nor divine revelation, but rising from
the conceits of a warmed or over-weening brain, works yet,
where it once gets footing, more powerfully on the persuasions
and actions of men, than either of those two, or both together :
men being most forwardly obedient to the impulses they receive
from themselves ; and the whole man is sure to act more vigo-
rously, where the whole man is carried by a natural motion.
For strong conceit, like a new principle, carries all easily with
it; when got above common sense, and freed from all restraint
of reason, and check of reflection, it is heightened into a divine
authority, in concurrence with our own temper and inclination.

§. 8. Enthusiasm mistaken for seeing and feeling. — Though
the odd opinions and extravagant actions enthusiasm has run
m^n into, were enough to warn them against this wrong prin-
ciple, so apt to misguide them both in their belief and conduct ;
yet the love of something extraordinary, the ease and glory it
is to be inspired, and be above the common and natural ways of
knowledge, so flatters many men's laziness, ignorance, and
vanity, that when once they are got into this way of immediate

Ch. 19. ENTHUSIASM. 611

revelation, of illumination without search, and of certainty
without proof, and without examination, it is a hard matter to
get them out of it. Reason is lost upon them ; they are above
it : they see the light infused into their understandings, and
cannot be mistaken ; it is clear and visible there, like the light
of bright sunshine ; shows itself, and needs no other proof but
its own evidence; they feel the hand of God moving them
within, and the impulses of the spirit, and cannot be mistaken
in what they feel. Thus they support themselves, and are sure
reason hath nothing to do with what they see and feel in them-
selves ; what they have a sensible experience of, admits no
doubt, needs no probation. Would he not be ridiculous, who
should require to have it proved to him, that the light shines,
and that he sees it ? It is its own proof, and can have no other.
When the spirit brings light into our minds, it dispels darkness.
We see it, as we do that of the sun at noon, and need not the
twilight of reason to show it us. This light from heaven is
strong, clear, and pure; carries its own demonstration with it;
and we may as rationally take a glow-worm to assist us to
discover the sun, as to examine the celestial ray by our dim
candle, reason.

§. 9. This is the way of talking of these men : they are
sure, because they are sure ; and their persuasions are right,
because they are strong in them. For, when what they say is
stripped of the metaphor of seeing and feeling, this is all it
amounts to ; and yet these similies so impose on them, that
they serve them for certainty in themselves, and demonstration
to others.

§. 10. Enthusiasm, hoio to he discovered. — But to examine
a little soberly this internal light, and this feeling on which
they build so much. These men have, they say, clear light,
and they see : they have an awakened sense, and they feel : this
cannot, they are sure, be disputed them. For when a man says
he sees or feels, nobody can deny it him that he does so.
But here let me ask : this seeing, is it the perception pf the
truth of the proposition, or of this, that it is a revelation from
God? This feeling, is it a perception of an inclination or fancy
to do something, or of the spirit of God moving that inclination?
These are two very different perceptions, and must be carefully
distinguished, if we would not impose upon ourselves. I may
perceive the truth of a proposition, and yet not perceive that it
is an immediate revelation from God. I may perceive the truth
of a proposition in Euclid, without its being, or my perceiving-
it to be, a revelation : nay, I may perceive I came not by this
knowledge in a natural way, and so may conclude it revealed,

K R 2

612 ENTHUSIASM. Book 4.

without perceiving that it is a revelation from God ; because
there be spirits, which, without being divinely commissioned,
may excite those ideas in me, and lay them in such order before
my mind, that I may perceive their connexion. So that the
knowledge of any pi'oposition coming into my mind, I know not
how, is not a perception that it is from God. Much less is a strong
persuasion, that it is true, a perception that it is from God, or so
much as true. But however it be called light and seeing, I suppose
it is at most but belief and assurance : and the proposition taken
for a revelation, is not such as they know to be true, but taken to
be true. For where a proposition is known to be true, revelation
is needless : and it is hard to conceive how there can be a
revelation to any one of what he knows already. If therefore it
be a proposition which they are persuaded, but do not know,
to be true, whatever they may call it, it is not seeing, but
believing. For these are two ways, whereby truth comes into
the mind, wholly distinct, so that one is not the other. What
I see, I know to be so by the evidence of the thing itself; what
I believe, I take to be so upon the testimony of another : but
this testimony I must know to be given-, or else what ground
have I of believing ? I must see that it is God that reveals this
to me, or else I see nothing. The question then here is. How
do I know that God is the revealer of this to me ; that this
impression is made upon my mind by his holy spirit, and that
therefore I ought to obey it ? If I know not this, how great
soever the assurance is that I am possessed with it, is ground-
less; whatever light I pretend to, it is but enthusiasm. For
whether the proposition supposed to be revealed, be in itself
evidently true, or visibly probable, or by the natural ways of
knowledge uncertain, the proposition that must be well
grounded, and manifested to be true, is this, that God is the
revealer of it ; and that what I take to be a revelation, is cer-
tainly put into my mind by him, and is not an illusion, dropped
in by some other spirit, or raised by my own fancy. For if I
mistake not, these men receive it for true, because they presume
. God revealed it. Does it not then stand them upon, to examine
on what grounds they presume it to be a revelation from God ?
Or else all their confidence is mere presumption ; and this light
they are so dazzled with, is nothing but an ignis fatuus, that leads
them continually round in this circle. It is a revelation, because
they firmly believe it ; and they believe it, because it is a revelation.
§. II. Enthusiasm fails of evidence, that the proposition is
from God. — In all that is of divine revelation, there is need of
no other proof, but that it is an inspiration from God ; for he
can neither deceive, nor be deceived. But how shall it be

C%. 19. ENTHUSIASM. 613

known, that any proposition in our minds, is a truth infused by
God ; a truth that is revealed to us by him, which he declares
to us, and therefore we ought to believe ? Here it is that enthu-
siasm fails of the evidence it pretends to. For men thus pos-
sessed, boast of a light whereby, they say, they are enlightened,
and brought into the knowledge of this or that truth. But if
they know it to be a truth, they must know it to be so either by
its own self-evidence to natural reason, or by the rational proofs
that make it out to be so. If they see and know it to be a truth
either of these two ways, they in vain suppose it to be a reve-
lation. For they know it to be true the same way that any
other man naturally may know that it is so, without the help of
revelation. For thus all the truths, of what kind soever, that
men uninspired are enlightened with, came into their minds,
and are established there. If they say they know it to be true,
because it is a revelation from God, the reason is good ; but
then it Avill be demanded, how they know it to be a revelation
from God ? If they say, by the light it brings with it, which
shines bright in their minds, and they cannot resist; I beseech
them to consider whether this be any more than what we have
taken notice of already, viz., that it is a revelation, because they
strongly believe it to be true. For all the light they speak of,
is but a strong, though ungrounded, persuasion of their own
minds, that it is a truth. For rational grounds from proofs that
it is a truth, they must acknowledge to have none ; for then it
is not received as a revelation, but upon the ordinary grounds
that other truths are received : and if they believe it to be true,
because it is a revelation, and have no other reason for its being
a revelation, but because they are fully persuaded, without any
other reason, that it is true ; they believe it to be a revelation,
only because they strongly believe it to be a revelation ; which
is a very unsafe ground to proceed on, either in our tenets or
actions. And what readier way can there be to run ourselves
into the most extravagant errors and miscarriages, than thus
to set up fancy for our supreme and sole guide, and to believe
any proposition to be triife, any action to be right, only because
we believe it to be so ? The strength of our persuasions is no
evidence at all of their own rectitude : crooked things may
be as stiff and inflexible as straight; and men may be as
positive and peremptory in error as in truth. How come
else the untractable zealots in different and opposite parties?
For if the light, which every one thinks he has in his mind,
which in this case is nothing but the strength of his own per-
suasion, be an evidence that it is from God, contrary opinions
may have the same title to be inspirations; and God will be

R R 3

614 ENTHUSIASM. Book A.

not only the father of lights, but of opposite and contra-
dictory lights, leading men contrary ways ; and contradictory
propositions will be divine truths, if an ungrounded strength
of assurance be an evidence that any proposition is a divine
revelation.

§. 12. Firmness of persuasion, no proof that any proposition
is from God. — This cannot be otherwise, whilst firmness of per-
suasion is made a cause of believing, and confidence of being
in the right, is made an argument of truth. St. Paul himself
believed he did well, and that he had a call to it, when he
persecuted the Christians, whom he confidently thought in
the wrong ; but yet it was he, and not they, who were mis-
taken. Good men, are men still liable to mistakes, and
are sometimes warmly engaged in errors, which they take
for divine truths, shining in their minds with the clearest

§. 13. Light in the mind, what. — Light, true light in the mind,
is, or can be, nothing else but the evidence of the truth of any
proposition ; and if it be not a self-evident proposition, all the
light it has, or can have, is from the clearness and validity of
those proofs upon which it is received. To talk of any other
light in the understanding, is to put ourselves in the dark,
or in the power of the prince of darkness, and by our own con-
sent, to give ourselves up to delusion to believe a lie ; for if
strength of persuasion be the light which must guide us, I ask,
how shall any one distinguish between the delusions of Satan,
and the inspirations of the Holy Ghost ? He can transform
himself into an angel of light. And they who are led by
this sun of the morning, are as fully satisfied of the illumination,
i. e. are as strongly persuaded that they are enlightened by the
spirit of God, as any one who is so ; they acquiesce and
rejoice in it, are acted by it; and nobody can be more sure,
nor more in the right (if their own strong belief may be judge),
than they.

§. 14. Revelation must he judged of by reason. — He, there-
fore, that will not give himself up to all the extravagancies of
delusion and error, must bring this guide of his light within to
the trial. God, when he makes the prophet, does not unmake
the man ; he leaves all his faculties in the natural state, to
enable him to judge of his inspirations, whether they be of
divine original, or no. When he illuminates the mind with
supernatural light, he does not extinguish that which is natural.
If he would have us assent to the truth of any proposition, he
either evidences that truth by the usual methods of natural
reason, or else makes it known to be a truth, which he would

Ck. 19. ENTHUSIASM. fil5

have us assent to, by his authority, and convinces us that it
is from him, by some marks which reason cannot be mistaken
in. Reason must be our last judge and guide in every thing.
I do not mean, that we must consult reason, and examine
whether a proposition revealed from God can be made out by
natural principles ; and if it cannot, that then we may reject
it ; but consult it we must, and by it examine whether it be
a revelation from God, or no ; and if reason finds it to be
revealed from God, reason then declares for it, as much as
for any other truth, and makes it one of her dictates. Every
conceit that thoroughly warms our fancies, must pass for an
inspiration, if there be nothing but the strength of our per-
suasions, whereby to judge of our persuasions. If reason
must not examine their truth by something extrinsical to the
persuasions themselves, inspirations and delusions, truth and
falsehood, will have the same measure, and will not be possible
to be distinguished.

§. 15. Belief no proof of revelation. — If this internal light,
or any proposition which under that title we take for inspired,
be conformable to the principles of reason, or to the word of
God, which is attested revelation, reason warrants it, and we
may safely receive it for true, and be guided by it in our belief
and actions; if it receive no testimony nor evidence from
either of these rules, we cannct take it for a revelation, or so
much as for true, till we have some other mark that it is a
revelation, besides our believing that it is so. Thus we see
the holy men of old, who had^ revelations from God, had
soraethins: else besides that internal lipht of assurance in their
own minds, to testify to them that it was from God. They
were not left to their own persuasions alone, that those persua-
sions were from God, but had outward signs to convince them
of the Author of those revelations. And when they were to
convince others, they had a power given them to justify the
truth of their commission from heaven ; and by visible signs
to assert the divine authority of a message they were sent with.
Moses saw the bush burn without being consumed, and heard
a voice out of it. This was something besides finding an
impulse upon his mind to go to Pharaoh, that he might bring his
brethren out of Egypt; and yet he thought not this enough to
authorize him to go with that message, till God, by another
miracle of his rod turned into a serpent, had assured him of
a power to testify his mission by the same miracle repeated
before them whom he was sent to. Gideon was sent by an angel
to deliver Israel from the Midianites, and yet he desired a sign
to convince him, that this commission was from God. These,

R R 4

616 WHONG ASSENT, OR ERROR. Book 4.

and several the like instances to be found amongst the prophets
of old, are enough to show, that they thought not an inward
seeing or persuasion of their own minds, without any other
proof, a sufficient evidence that it was from God, though the
scripture does not every where mention their demanding or
having such proofs.

§. 16. In what I have said, I am far from denying that
God can, or doth, sometimes enlighten men's minds in the
apprehending of certain truths, or excite them to good actions
by the immediate influence and assistance of the holy spirit,
without any extraordinary signs accompanying it. But in such
cases, too, we have reason and scripture, unerring rules, to know
whether it be from God, or no. Where the truth embraced
is consonant to the revelation in the written word of God,
or the action conformable to the dictates of right reason, or
holy writ, we may be assured that we ran no risk in enter-
taining it as such ; because, though perhaps it be not an imme-
diate revelation from God, extraordinarily operating on our minds,
yet we are sure it is warranted by that revelation which he has
given us of truth. But it is not the strength of our private per-
suasion within ourselves, that can warrant it to be a light or
motion from heaven ; nothing can do that, but the written
word of God Avithout us, or that standard of reason which is
common to us with all men. Where reason or scripture is
expressed for any opinion or action, we may receive it as of
divine authority ; but it is not the strength of our own per-
suasions which can by itself give it that stamp. The bent of
our own minds may favour it as much as we please ; that
may show it to be a foundling of our own, but will by no
means prove it to be an offspring of heaven, and of divine
original.

CHAPTER XX.

OF WRONG ASSENT, OR ERROR,

§. 1. Ccmses of error. — Knowledge being to be had only of
visible and certain truth, error is not a fault of our knowledge,
but a mistake of our judgment, giving assent to that which is
not true.

But if assent be grounded on likelihood, if the proper object
and motive of our assent be probability, and that probability
consists in wliat is laid down in the foregoing chapters, it will
be demanded, how men come to give their assents contrary to

Ch.20. WRONG ASSENT, OR ERROR. 617

probability. For there is nothing more common than con-
trariety of opinions ; nothing more obvious, than that one man
wholly disbelieves what another only doubts of, and a third
steadfastly believes, and firmly adheres to. The reasons whereof,
though they may be very various, yet, I suppose, may be all
reduced to these four : 1, Want of proofs. 2, Want of ability
to use them. 3, Want of will to use them. 4, Wrong measures
of probability.

§. 2. First, want of proofs. — First, By want of proofs, I do
not mean only the want of those proofs which are no where
extant, and so are no where to be had ; but the want even of
those proofs which are in being, or might be procured. And
thus men want proofs, who have not the convenience or oppor-
tunity to make experiments and observations themselves, tending
to the proof of any proposition : nor likewise the convenience
to enquire into, and collect, the testimonies of others : and in
this state are the greatest part of mankind, who are given up to
labour, and enslaved to the necessity of their mean condition,
whose lives are worn out only in the provisions for living. These
men's o])portunities of knowledge and enquiry, are commonly as
narrow as their fortunes ; and their understandings are but little
instructed, when all their whole time and pains is laid out to still
the croakings of their own bellies, or the cries of their children.
It is not to be expected, that a man who drudges on, all his life,
in a laborious trade, should be more knowing in the variety of
things done in the world, than a pack-horse, who is driven con-
stantly forwards and backwards in a narrow lane, and dirty road,
only to market, should be skilled in the geography of the
country. Nor is it at all more possible, that he who wants
leisure, books, and languages, and the opportunity of conversing
with variety of men, should be in a condition to collect those
testimonies aurtl observations which are in being, and are neces-
sary to make out many, nay, most, of the propositions, that, in
the societies of men, are judged of the greatest moment; or to
find out grounds of assurance so great, as the belief of the
points he would build on them, is thought necessary. So that
a great part of mankind are, by the natural and unalterable state
of things in this world, and the constitution of human affairs,
unavoidably given over to invincible ignorance of those proofs
on which others build, and which are necessary to establish those
opinions ; the greatest part of men having much to do to get
the means of living, are not in a condition to look after those of
learned and laborious enquiries.

§. 3. Objection. What shall become of those who want them,
answered. — What shall we say, then ? Are the greatest part of

G18 WRONG ASSENT, OR ERROR. Book A.

mankind, by the necessity of their condition, subjected to un-
avoidable ignorance in those things which are of greatest im-
portance to them (for of these it is obvious to enquire) ? Have
the bulk of mankind no other guide but accident and blind
chance, to conduct them to their happiness or misery ? Are the
current opinions, and licensed guides, of every country, sufficient
evidence and security to every man, to venture his greatest con-
cernments on ; nay, his everlasting happiness or misery ? Or
can those be the certain and infallible oracles and standards of
truth, which teach one thing in Christendom, and another in
Turkey? Or shall a poor countryman be eternally happy, for
having the chance to be born in Itah^; or a day-labourer be un-
avoidably lost, because he had the ill-luck to be born in England?
How ready some men may be to say some of these things, I will
not here examine ; but this I am sure, that men must allow one or
other of these to be true (let them choose which they please),
or else grant, that God has furnished men with faculties suffi-
cient to direct them in the way they should take, if they will
but seriously employ them that way, wdien their ordinary voca-
tions allow them the leisure. No man is so Avholly taken up with
the attendance on the means of living, as to have no spare time
at all to think of his soul, and inform himself in matters of reli-
gion. Were men as intent upon this, as they are on things of
lower concernment, there are none so enslaved to the necessities
of life, who might not find many vacancies that might be hus-
banded to this advantage of their knowledge.

§. 4. People hindered from enquiry. — Besides those whose
improvements and informations are straitened by the narrow-
ness of their fortunes, there are others, whose largeness of for-
tune would plentifully enough supply books, and other requisites,
for clearing of doubts, and discovei'ing of truth ; but they are
cooped in close by the laws of their countries, and the strict
guards of those whose interest it is to keep them ignorant, lest,
knowdng more, they should believe the less in them. These are
as far, nay, farther, from the liberty and opportunities of a fair
enqxiiry, than those poor and wretched labourers we before spoke
of; and, however they may seem high and great, are confined to
narrowness of thought, and enslaved in that which should be the
freest part of man, their understandings. This is generally the
case of all those who live in places where care is taken to pro-
pagate truth without knowledge, where men are forced, at a ven-
ture, to be of the religion of the country, and must therefore
swallow down opinions, as silly people do empiric pills, without
knowing what they are made of, or how they will work, and have
nothing to do but believe that they will do the cure ; but in this.

Ck. 20. WRONG ASSENT, OR ERROR. 619

they are much more miserable than they, in that they are not at
liberty to refuse swallowing what perhaps tliey had rather let
alone; or to choose the physician, to whose conduct they would
trust themselves.

§. 5. Secondly, want of skill to use them. — Secondly, Those
who want skill to use those evidences they have of proUabilities,
who cannot carry a train of consequences in their heads, nor
weigh exactly the preponderancy of contrary proofs and testi-
monies, making every circumstance its due allowance, may be
easily misled to assent to positions that are not probable. There
are some men of one, some but of two, syllogisms, and no more;
and others that can advance but one step farther. These cannot
always discern that side on which the strongest proofs lie ; cannot
constantly follow that which in itself is the more probable opinion.
Now, that there is such a difference between men, in respect of
their understandings, I think nobody, who has had any conver-
sation with his neighbours, will question, though he never was
at Westminster Hall, or the Exchange, on the one hand ; nor at
alms-houses, or Bedlam, on the other : which great difference in
men's intellectuals, whether it rises from any defect in the organs
of the body, particularly adapted to thinking ; or in the dulness
or untractableness of those faculties, for want of use ; or, as
some think, in the natural differences of men's souls themselves;
or some, or all of these together, it matters not here to examine.
Only this is evident, that there is a difference of degrees in men's
understandings, apprehensions, and reasonings, to so great a
latitude, that one may, without doing injury to mankind, affirm,
that there is a greater distance between some men and others,
in this respect, than between some men and some beasts. But
how this comes about, is a speculation, though of great conse-
quence, yet not necessary to our present purpose.

§. 6. Thirdly, want of will to use them. — Thirdly, There are
another sort of people that want proofs, not because they are
out of their reach, because they will not use them; who, though
they have riches and leisure enough, and want neither parts nor
other helps, are yet never the better for them. Their hot pur-
suit of pleasure, or constant drudgery in business, engages some
men's thoughts elsewhere ; laziness and oscitancy in general, or
a particular aversion for books, study, and meditation, keep
others from any serious thoughts at all ; and some out of fear,
that an impartial enquiry would not favour those opinions which
best suit their prejudices, lives, and designs, content themselves,
without examination, to take upon trust what they find conve-
nient, and in fashion. Thus most men, even of those that might
do otherwise, pass their lives without an acquaintance with.

020 WRONG ASSENT, OR ERROR. BookA.

much less a rational assent to, probabilities they are concerned
to know, though they lie so much within their view, that to be
convinced of them, they need but turn their eyes that way. We
know some men will not read a letter, which is supposed to
brinj^ ill news ; and many men forbear to cast up their accounts,
or so much as think upon their estates, who have reason to fear
their affairs are in no very good posture. How men, whose
plentiful fortunes allow them leisure to improve their under-
standings, can satisfy themselves with a lazy ignorance, I cannot
tell; but methinks they have a low opinion of their souls, who
lay out all their incomes in provisions for the body, and employ
none of it to procure the means and helps of knowledge ; who
take great care to appear always in a neat and splendid outside,
and would think themselves miserable in coarse cloths, or a
patched coat, and yet contentedly suffer their minds to appear
abroad in a pie-bald livery of coarse patches, and borrowed
shreds, such as it has pleased chance, or their country tailor
(I mean the common opinion of those they have conversed with),
to clothe them in. I will not here mention how unreasonable
this is for men that ever think of a future state, and their
concernment in it, which no rational man can avoid to do
sometimes ; nor shall I take notice what a shame and confusion
it is, to the greatest contemners of knowledge, to be found
ignorant in things they are concerned to know. But this, at
least, is worth tks consideration of those who call themselves
gentlemen, that however they may think credit, respect, power,
and authority, the concomitants of their birth and fortune, yet
they will find all these carried away from them by men of lower
condition, who surpass them in knowledge. They who are
blind, will always be led by those that see, or else fall into the
ditch : and he is certainly the most siibjected, the most enslaved,
who is so in his understanding. In the foregoing instances,
some of the causes have been shown of wrong assent ; and how
it comes to pass, that probable doctrines are not always received
with an assent proportionable to the reasons which are to be
had for their probability : but hitherto we have considered only
such probabilities, whose proofs do exist, but do not appear to
him who embraces the error.

§. 7, FourtJily, wrong measures of j^^'ohability ; whereof. —
Fourtlily, There remains yet the last sort, who, even where the
real probabilities appear, and are plainly laid before them, do not
admit of the conviction, nor yield unto manifest reasons, but do
either iTriyiiv, suspend their assent, or give it to the less pro-
bable opinion. And to this danger are those exposed, who
have taken up wrong measures of probability ; which are, 1,

C%. 20. WRONG ASSENT, OH ERROR. 621

Propositions that are not in themselves certain and evident, but
doubtful and false, taken up for principles. 2, Received hypo-
theses. 3, Predominant passions or inclinations. 4, Authority.

§. 8. First, doubtful propositions taken for principles. —
The first and firmest ground of probability, is the conformity
any thing has to our own knowledge ; especially that part of our
knowledge which we have embraced, and continue to look on as
principles. These have so great an influence upon our opinions,
that it is usually by them we judge of truth, and measure pro-
bability to that degree, that what is inconsistent with our prin-
ciples, is so far from passing for probable with us, that it will
not be allowed possible. The reverence borne to these principles,
is so great, and their authority so paramount to all other, that
the testimony not only of other men, but the evidence of our
own senses, are often rejected, when they offer to vouch any
thing contrary to these established rules. How much the doc-
trine of innate principles, and that principles are not to be
proved or questioned, has contributed to this, I will not here
examine. This I readily grant, that one truth cannot contradict
another ; but withal, I take leave also to say, that every one
ought very carefully to beware what he admits for a principle,
to examine it strictly, and see whether he certainly knows it to
be true of itself, by its own evidence, or whether he does only
with assurance believe it to be so upon the authority of others ;
for he hath a strong bias put into his understanding, which will
unavoidably misguide his assent, who hath imbibed wrong-
principles, and has blindly given himself up to the authority of
any opinion in itself not evidently true.

§. 9. There is nothing more ordinary, than children receiving
into their minds propositions (especially about matters of religion)
from their parents, nurses, or those about them ; which being
insinuated into their unwary, as well as unbiassed, understandings,
and fastened by degrees, are at last (equally, whether true or
false) rivitted there, by long custom and education, beyond all
possibility of being pulled out again, For men, when they are
grown up, reflecting upon their opinions, and finding those of
this sort to be as ancient in tlieir minds as their very memories,
not having observed their early insinuation, nor by what means
they got them, they are apt to reverence them as sacred things,
and not to suffer them to be profaned, touched, or questioned :
they look on them as the Urim and Thummim set up in their
minds immediately by God himself, to be the great and unerring
deciders of truth and falsehood, and the judges to which they
are to appeal in all manner of controversies.

§. 10. This opinion of his principles (let them be what they

022 WRONG ASSENT, OR ERROR. Book 4.

will) being once established in any one's mind, it is easy to be
imagined what reception any proposition shall find, how clearly
soever proved, that shall invalidate their authority, or at all
thwart with these internal oracles : whereas, the grossest ab-
surdities and improbabilities, being but agreeable to such prin-
ciples, go down glibly, and are easily digested. The great
obstinacy that is to be found in men firmly believing quite con-
trary opinions, though many times equally absurd in the various
religions of mankind, are as evident a proof, as they are an un-
avoidable consequence, of this way of reasoning from received
traditional principles. So that men will disbelieve their own
eyes, renounce the evidence of their senses, and give their own
experience the lie, rather than admit of any thing disagreeing
with these sacred tenets. Take an intelligent Romanist, that,
from the first dawning of any notions in his understanding,
hath had this principle constantly inculcated, viz., that he must
believe as the church (i. e. those of his communion) believes,
or that the Pope is infallible ; and this he never so much as
heard question, till at forty or fifty years old he met with one of
other principles ; how is he prepared easily to swallow, not only
against all probability, but even the clear evidence of his senses,
the doctrine of transubstantiation ? This principle has such an
influence on his mind, that he will believe that to be flesh, which
he sees to be bread. And what way will you take to convince
a man of any improbable opinion he holds, who, with some
philosophers, hath laid down this as a foundation of reasoning,
that he must believe his reason (for so men improperly call argu-
ments drawn from their principles) against his senses ? Let an
enthusiast be principled, that he or his teacher is inspired, and
acted by an immediate communication of the Divine Spirit, and
you in vain bring the evidence of clear reasons against his
doctrine. Whoever therefore have imbibed wrong principles,
are not, in things inconsistent with these principles, to be moved
by the most apparent and convincing probabilities, till they are
so candid and ingenuous to themselves, as to be persuaded to
examine even those very principles, which many never suffer
themselves to do.

§. 11. Secondly, received hypotheses. — jSeco«J/y, Next to these,
are men whose understandings are cast into a mould, and
fashioned just to the size of a received hypothesis. The
difference between these and the former, is, that they will admit
of matter of fact, and agree with dissenters in that ; but difter
only in assigning of reasons, and explaining the manner of
operation. These are not at that open defiance with their
senses, with the former; they can endure to hearken to their

Ch. 20. WRONG ASSENT, OR ERROR. 623

information a little more patiently; but will by no means admit
of their reports in the explanation of things ; nor be prevailed
on by j)robabilities, which would convince them, that things are
not brought about just after the same manner that they have
decreed within themselves that they are. Would it not be an
insufferable thing, for a learned professor, and that which his
scarlet would blush at, to have his authority of forty years
standing, wrought out of hard rock, Greek and Latin, with no
small expense of time and candle, and confirmed by general
tradition, and a reverend beard, in an instant overturned by an
upstart novelist? Can any one expect that he should be made
to confess, that what he taught his scholars thirty years ago,
was all error and mistake : and that he sold them hard words
and ignorance at a very dear rate ? What probabilities, I say,
are sufficient to prevail in such a case ? And whoever, by the
most cogent arguments, will be prevailed with to disrobe
himself at once of all his old opinions and pretences to know-
ledge and learning, which, with hard study, he hath all his time
been labouring for ; and turn himself out stark naked, in quest
afresh of new notions? All the arguments that can be used, will
be as little able to prevail, as the wind did with the traveller, to
part with his cloak, which he held only the faster. To this of
wrong hypothesis, may be reduced the errors that may be
occasioned by a true hypothesis, or right principles, but not
rightly understood. There is nothing more familiar than this.
The instances of men contending for different opinions, which
they all derive from the infallible truth of the scripture, are an
undeniable proof of it. All that call themselves Christians,
allow the text that says, ^.trocvosTri, to carry in it the obligation
to a very weighty duty. But yet how very erroneous will one of
their practices be, who, understanding nothing but the French,
take this rule with one translation to be repentez vous, repent ;
or with the other, faitiez penitence, do penance !

§. 12. Thhdly, predominant passions. — Thirdly, Probabili-
ties, which cross mens' appetites, and prevailing passions, run
the same fate. Let ever so much probability hang on one side
of a covetous man's reasoning, and money on the other, it is
easy to foresee which will outweigh. Earthly minds, like mud
walls, resist the strongest batteries ; and though, perhaps,
sometimes the force of a clear argument may make some im-
pression, yet they nevertheless stand firm, and keep out the enemy
truth, that would captivate or disturb them. Tell a man,
passionately in love, that he is jilted ; bring a score of witnesses
of the falsehood of his mistress ; it is ten to one but three kind
words of her's shall invalidate all their testimonies. Quod

f}24 WRONG ASSENT, OH ERROR. Book 4.

volumus, facile credimus ; what suits our wishes, is forwardly
believed ; is, I suppose, what every one hath more than once
experimented : and though men cannot always openly gainsay
or resist the force of manifest probabilities that make against
them, yet yield they not to the argument. Not but that it is the
nature of the understanding constantly to close with the more
probable side ; but yet a man hath a power to suspend and
restrain its enquiries, and not permit a full and satisfactory
examination, as far as the matter in question is capable, and
will bear it to be made. Until that be done, there will be
always these two ways left of evading the most apparent
probabilities.

§. 13. The means of evading jyrohahilities : first, supposed
fallacy. — First, That the arguments being (as for the most part
they are) brought in words, there may be a fallacy latent in
them ; and the consequences being, perhaps, many in train,
they may be some of them incoherent. There are very few
discourses so short, clear, and consistent, to which most men
may not, with satisfaction enough to themselves, raise this
doubt ; and from whose conviction they may not, without
reproach of disingenuity or unreasonableness, set themselves
free with the old reply, Non persuadehis, etiamsi persuaseris ;
Though I cannot answer, I will not yield.

§. 14. Secondly, supposed arguments for the contrary. — Se-
condly, Manifest probabilities may be evaded, and the assent
withheld upon this suggestion, that I know not yet all that may
be said on the contrary side. And, therefore, though I be
beaten, it is not necessary I should yield, not knowing what
forces there are in reserve behind. This is a refuge against
conviction, so open and so wide, that it is hard to determine
when a man is quite out of the verge of it.

§. 15. What ptobahilities determine the assent. ^-^\\t yet there
is some end of it ; and a man having carefully enquired into all
the grounds of probability and unlikeliness, done his utmost to
inform himself in all particulars, fairly, and cast up the sura
total on both sides, may in most cases come to acknowledge,
upon the whole matter, on which side the probability rests ;
wherein some proofs in matter of reason, being suppositions
upon universal experience, are so cogent and clear, and some
testimonies in matter of fact so universal, that he cannot refuse
his assent. So that, I think, we may conclude, that in pro-
positions, where though the proofs in view are of most
moment, yet there are sufficient grounds to suspect, that there
is either fallacy in words, or certain proofs, as considerable, to
be produced on the contrary side ; their assent, suspense, or

Ch. 20. AVRONG ASSENT, OR ERROR. 625

dissent, are often voluntary acti os : but where the proofs are
such as make it highly probable, and there is not sufficient
ground to suspect that there is either fallacy of words (which
sober and serious consideration may discover), nor equally valid
proofs yet undiscovered latent on the other side (which also
the nature of the thing, may, in some cases, make plain to a
considerate man), there, I think, a man, who has weighed them,
can scarce refuse his assent to the side on which the greater
probability appears. Whether it be probable, that a pro-
miscuous jumble of printing letters should often fall into a
method and order, which should stamp on paper a coherent
discourse ; or that a blind fortuitous concourse of atoms, not
guided by an understanding agent, should frequently constitute
the bodies of any species of animals : in these and the like
cases, I think nobody that considers them, can be one jot at a
stand, which side to take, nor at all waver in his assent.
Lastly, when there can be no supposition (the thing in its own
nature indifferent, and wholly depending upon the testimony of
witnesses), that there is as fair testimony against, as for, the
matter of fact attested ; which by enquiry is to be learned,
V. g. whether there was seventeen hundred years ago, such a
man at Rome as Julius Caesar; in all such cases, I say, I think
it is not in any rational man's power to refuse his assent; but
that it necessarily follows, and closes with such probabilities.
In other less clear cases, I think it is in man's power to
suspend his assent; and perhaps content himself with the
proofs he has, if they favour the opinion that suits with his
inclination or interest, and so stop from farther search. But
that a man should afford his assent to that side on which the
less probability appears to him, seems to me utterly impracti-
cable, and as impossible as it is to believe the same thing
probable and improbable at the same time.

§. 16. Where it is in our power to susjjend it. — As know-
ledge is no more arbitrary than perception ; so, I think, assent is
no more in our power than knowledge. When the agreement of
any two ideas appears to our minds, whether immediately, or
by the assistance of reason, I can no more refuse to perceive, no
more avoid knowing, it, than I can avoid seeing those objects
which I turn my eyes to, and look on, in daylight: and what,
upon full examination, I find the most probable, I cannot deny
my assent to. But though we cannot hinder our knowledge,
where the agreement is once perceived ; nor our assent, where
the probability manifestly appears upon due consideration of all
the measures of it ; yet we can hinder both knowledge and

s s

626 WRONG ASSENT, OR ERROR. Book 4..

assent, by stopping our enquiry, and not employing our faculties
in the seaixh of any truth. If it were not so, ignorance, error,
or infidelity, could not in any case be a fault. Thus in some
cases we can prevent or suspend our assent : but can a man,
versed in modern or ancient history, doubt whether there is
such a place as Rome, or whether there was such a man as
Julius Coesar ? Indeed, there are millions of truths, that a man
is not, or may not, think himself concerned to know ; as
whether our King Richard the Third was crooked, or no?
or whether Roger Bacon was a mathematician, or a magician ?
In these, and such like cases, where the assent, one way or
other, is of no importance to the interest of any one ; no action,
no concernment, of his following or depending thereon ; there
it is not strange that the mind should give itself up to the
common opinion, or render itself to the first comer. These and
the like opinions, are of so little weight and moment, that, like
motes in the sun, their tendencies are very rarely taken notice
of. They are there, as it were, by chance, and the mind lets
them float at liberty. But where the mind judges that the
proposition has concernment in it ; where the assent or not
assenting is thought to draw consequences of moment after it;
and good and evil to depend on choosing or refusing the right
side, and the mind sets itself seriously to enquire, and examine,
the probability ; there, I think, it is not in our choice to take
which side we please, if manifest odds appear on either. The
greater probability, I think, in that case, will determine the
assent ; and a man can no more avoid assenting, or taking it to
be true, where he perceives the greater probability, than he can
avoid knowing it to be true, where he perceives the agreement
or disagreement of any two ideas.

If this be so, the foundation of error will lie in wrong
measures of probability ; as the foundation of vice in wrong
measures of good.

§. 17. Fourthly, authority. — The fourth and last wrong
measure of probability I shall take notice of, and which
keeps in ignorance or error more people than all the other
together, is that which I mentioned in the foregoing chapter ;
I mean, the giving up our assent to the common received
opinions, either of our friends or party, neighbourhood or
country. How many men have not other ground for their
tenets, than the supposed honesty, or learning, or number of
those of the same profession ? As if honest or bookish men
could not err ; or truth were to be established by the vote of
' the multitude; yet this, with most men, serves the turn. The
tenet has had the attestation of reverend antiquity; it comes to

CA. 20. WRONG ASSENT, OR ERROR. 9Sfl

me with the passport of former ages, and therefore I am secure
in the reception I give it; other men have been, and are, of the
same opinion (for that is all is said), and therefore it is reason-
able for me to embrace it. A man may more justifiably throw
up cross and pile for his opinions, than take them up by such
measures. All men are liable to error, and most men are,
in many points, by passion or interest, under temptation to it.
If we could but see the secret motives that influenced the men
of name and learning in the world, and the leaders of parties,
we should not always find, that it was the embracing of truth
for its own sake, that made them espouse the doctrines they
owned and maintained. This, at least, is certain; there is not an
opinion so absurd, which a man may not receive upon this
ground. There is no error to be named, which has not had its
professors ; and a man shall never want crooked paths to walk
in, if he thinks that he is in the right way, wherever he has the
footsteps of others to follow.

§. 18. Men not in so many errors cw imagined. — But not-
withstanding the great noise made in the world about errors
and opinions, I must do mankind that right, as to say, there are
not so many men in errors, and wrong opinions, as is commonly
supposed. Not that I think they embrace the truth ; but, indeed,
because concerning those doctrines they keep such a stir about,
they have no thought, no opinion, at all. For if any one should
a little catechise the greatest part of the partizans of most
of the sects in the world, he would not find, concerning those
matters they are so zealous for, that they have any opinions of
their own : much less would he have reason to think, that they
took them upon the examination of arguments, and appearance
of probability. They are resolved to stick to a party that
education or interest has engaged them in ; and there, like the
common soldiers of an araiy, show their courage and warmth as
their leaders direct, without ever examining, or so much as knowing,
the cause they contend for. If a man's life shows that he has
no serious regard for religion ; for what reason should we think,
that he beats his head about the opinions of his church, and
troubles himself to examine the grounds of this or that doctrine?
It is enough for him to obey his leaders, to have his hand and
his tongue ready for the support of the common cause, and
thereby approve himself to those who can give him credit^
preferment, or protection, in that society. Thus men become
professors of, and combatants for, those opinions they were
never convinced of, nor proselytes to; no, nor ever had so
much as floating in their heads : and though one cannot say
there are fewer improbable or erroneous opinions in the world

s s 2

DIVISION OF THE SCIENCES. Book 4.

than there are, yet this is certain, there are fewer that actually
assent to them, and mistake them for truths, than is imagined.

CHAPTER XXI.

OF THE DIVISION OP THE SCIENCES.

§. 1. Three sorts. — All that can fall within the compass of
human understanding, being either. First, The nature of things,
as they are in themselves, their relations, and their manner of
operation : or. Secondly, That which man himself ought to do,
as a rational and voluntary agent, for the attainment of any
end, especially happiness : or. Thirdly, The ways and means
whereby the knowledge of both the one and the other of these
is attained and communicated : I think science may be divided
properly into these three sorts.

§. 2. First, physica. — First, The knowledge of things, as they
are in their own proper beings, their constitution, properties, and
operations, whereby I mean not only matter and body, but spirits
also, which have their proper natures, constitutions, and opera-
tions, as well as bodies. This, in a little more enlarged sense
of the word, I call (pva-iyiri, or natural philosophy. The end of
this is bare speculative truth ; and whatsoever can afford the
mind of man any such, falls under this branch, whether it be
God himself, angels, spirits, bodies, or any of their affections,
as number and figure, &c,

§. 3. Secondly, practica. — Secondly, IIpaKlixr, the skill of
right applying our own powers and actions, for the attainment
of things good and useful. The most considerable under this
head, is ethics, which is the seeking out those rules and
measures of human actions, which lead to happiness, and the
means to practise them. The end of this, is not bare specu-
lation, and the knowledge of truth ; but right, and a conduct
suitable to it.

§. 14. Thirdly, SyijtAnwTixT). — The third branch may be
called ZTi^£KOTix»i,or the doctrine of signs, the most usual whereof
being words, it is aptly enough termed also Aoytxr, logic ; the
business whereof is to consider the nature of signs the mind
makes use of for the understanding of things, or conveying its
knowledge to others. For since the things the mind contem-
plates, are none of them, besides itself, present to the under-
standing, it is necessary that something else, as a sign or repre-
sentation of the thing it considers, should be present to it : and
these are ideas. And because the scene of ideas that makes

Ch. 21. DIVISION OF THE SCIENCES. 04©

one man's thoughts, cannot be laid open to the immediate view
of another, nor laid up any where but in the memory, a no very
sure repository ; therefore, to communicate our thoughts to one
another, as well as record them for our own use, signs of our ideas
are also necessary. Those which men have found most con-
venient, and therefore generally make use of, are articulate
sounds. The consideration then of ideas and words, as the
great instruments of knowledge, makes no despicable part of
their contemplation, who would take a view of human knowledge
in the whole extent of it. And perhaps if they were distinctly
weighed, and duly considered, they would afford us another
sort of logic and critic, than what we have been hitherto ac-
quainted with.

§. 5. This is the first division of the objects of knowledge. —
This seems to me the first and most general, as well as natural,
division of the objects of our understanding. For a man can
employ his thoughts about nothing, but either the contemplation
of things themselves, for the discovery of truth ; or about the
things in his own power, which are his own actions, for the at-
tainment of his own ends ; or the signs the mind makes use of,
both in the one and the other, and the right ordering of them
for its clearer information. All which three, viz., things as they
are in themselves knowable ; actions as they depend on us, in
order to happiness ; and the right use of signs in order to know-
ledge, being toto ccelo different, they seemed to me to be the
three great provinces of the intellectual world, wholly separate
and distinct one from another.

FINIS.

s s 3

INDEX.

ABBOT of St. Martin, page 378,

s 2«
Abstraction, 107, s 9

Puts a perfect distance betwixt

men and brutes, 108, s 10
Wbat, 338, s9
How, 111, s 1
Abstract ideas, why made, 315,
s G, 7, 8

■ terms cannot be afilrmed

one of another. 395, s 1
Accident, 221, s 2
Actions, the best evidence of men's
principles, 29, s 7
But two sorts of actions, 172,

s 4; 218, s 11
Unpleasant may be made plea-
sant, and how, 207, s 69
Cannot be the same in different

places, 253, s 2
Considered as modes, or as mo-
ral, 292, s 15
Adequate ideas, 306, s 1, 2

We have not of any species of
substances, 486, s 26
Affirmations are only inconcrete,

395, s 1
Agreement and disagreement of
our ideas fourfold, 441, s 3-7
Algebra, 566, s 15
Alteration, 249, s 2
Analogy, useful in natural philo-
sophy, 580, s 12
Anger, 169, s 12, 14
Antipathy and sympathy, whence,

325, s 7
Arguments of four sorts :

1. Ad verecundiam, 598, s 19

2. Ad ignorantiam, 599, s 20

3. Ad hominem, ib. s 21

4. Ad judicium, ib. s 22. This
alone right, ib. s 22

Arithmetic : the use of cyphers in
arithmetic, 481, s 19

Artificial things are most of them
collective ideas, 244, s 3

Why we are less liable to con-
fusion about artificial things,
than about natural, 387, s 40
Have distinct species, 388, s 41
Assent to maxims, 13, s 10

Upon hearing and understand-
ing the terms, 17, s 17, 18
Assent, a mark of self-evidence,
17, s 18
Not of innate, 18, s 18-20 ; 53,
s 19
Assent to probability, 572, s 3
Ought to be proportioned to the
proofs, 616, s 1
Association of ideas, 323, s 1, &c.
This association how made, 324,

s 6
111 effects of it, as to antipathies,

325, s 7, 8 ; 327, s 15
And this in sects of philosophy

and religion, 328, s 18
Its ill influence as to intellectual
habits, ib. s 17
Assurance, 577, s 6
Atheism in the world, 44, s 8
Atom, what, 254, s 3
Authority ; relying on other's opi-
nions, one great cause of er-
ror, 626, s 17
B.
Beings, but two sorts, 543, s 9
The eternal being must be cogi-
tative, 544, s 10
Belief, what, 572, s 3

To believe without reason, is
against our duty, 600, s 24
Best in our opinion, not a rule of

God's actions, 48, s 12
Blind man, if made to see, would
not know which aglobe, which
a cube, by his sight, though
he knew them by his touch,
62, s 8
Blood, how it appears in a micro-
scope, 229, s 11
Brutes have no universal ideas,
108, s 10, 11
s 4

632

INDEX.

Abstract not, 108, s 10
Body. We have no more primary
ideas of body than of spirit,
233, s 16

The primary ideas of body, ib.
s 17

The extension or cohesion of bo-
dy, as hard to be understood,
as the thinking of spirit, 235-7,
S23-7

Moving of body by body, as hard
to be conceived as by spirit,
238, s 28

Operates only by impulse, 87,
sll
What, 118, s 11

The author's notion of the body,
2 Cor. V. 10, 272, and of his
own body, 1 Cor. xv. 35, &c.
274. The meaning of the
same body, 271. Whether
the word body be a simple or
complex term, 273. This
only a controversy about the
sense of a wqrd , 270
But, its several significations, 395,
s 5

C.
Capacity, 114, s 3
Capacities, to know their extent,
useful, 2, s 4

To cure scepticism and idle-
ness, 4, s 6

Are suited to our present state,
3, s5
Cause, 249, s 1

And effect, ib.
Certainty depends on intuition,
447, s 1

Wherein it consists, 500, s 18

Of truth, 601, s 1.

To be had in very few general
propositions, concerning sub-
stances, 573, s 13

Where to be had, 516, s 16

Verbal, 504, s 8

Real, ib.

Sensible knowledge, the utmost
certainty we have of existence,
650, s 2

The author's notion of it not
dangerous, 440, &c.

How it differs from assurance,
677, s 6

Changelings, whether men or no,

497, s 13, 14
Clearness alone hinders confusion

of ideas, 105, s 3
Clear and obscure ideas, 296, s 2
Colours, modes of colours, 163, s 4
Comments upon law, why infinite,

401, s 9
Complex ideas how made, 106,
s 6; 111, s 1
In these the mind is more than

passive, 112, s 2
Ideas reducible to modes, sub-
stances, and relations, ib. s 3
Comparing ideas, 106, s 4

Herein men excel brutes, ib. s 5
Compounding ideas, ib. s 6

In this is a great difference be-
tween men and brutes, 107, s7
Compulsion, 177, s 13
Confidence, 578, s 7
Confusion of ideas, wherein it con-
sists, 297, s 5-7
Causes of confusion in ideas,

297-9, s 7-9; 300, s 12
Of ideas, grounded on a reference

to names, 299, 300, s 10-12
Its remedy, 300, s 12
Confused ideas, 296, s 4
Conscience is our owk opinion of

our own actions, 29, s 8
Consciousness makes the same per-
son, 259, s 10 ; 263, s 16
Probably annexed to the same
individual, immaterial sub-
stance, 268, s 25
Necessary to thinking, 63, s 10,

11 ; 69, s 19
What, ib. s 19
Contemplation, 99, s I
Creation, 249, s 2

Not to be denied, because we
cannot conceive the manner
how, 160, s 19

D.

Definition, why the genus is used
in definitions , 3 39, s 10

Defining of terms would cut off a
great part of disputes, 416, s 15

Demonstration, 449, s 3

Not so clear as intuitive know-
ledge, ib. s 4-6 ; 450, s 7

INDEX.

633

Intuitive knowledge necessary
in each step of a demonstra-
tion, ib. s 7
Not limited to quantity, ib. s 9
Why that has been supposed,

451, s 10
Not to be expected in all cases,

555, s 10
What, 570, s 1 ; 597, s 15
Desire, 169, s 6 ^

Is a state of uneasiness, 184,

185, s 31, 32
Is moved only by happiness,

190, s 41
How far, 191, s 43
How to be raised, 193, s 46
Misled by wrong judgment, 202,
s60
Dictionaries, how to be made,

437, s 25
Discerning, 104, s 1

The foundation of some general
maxims, 105, s 1
Discourse cannot be between two
men,who have different names
for the same idea, or different
ideas for the same name, 79,
s 5
Despair, 169, s 11
Disposition, 218, s 10
Disputing : the art of disputing
prejudicial to knowledge,
312-4, s 6-9
Destroys the use of language,
314, s 10
Disputes, whence, 125, s 28
Disputes, multiplicity of them ow-
ing to the abuse of words, 421 ,
s 22
Are most about the signification
of words, 428, s 7
Distance, 114, s 3
Distinat ideas, 296, s 4
Divisibility of matter incompre-
hensible, 239, s 31
Dreaming, 165, s 1

Seldom in some men, 66, s 14
Dreams for the most part irrational,
67, s 16
In dreams no ideas but of sen-
sation or reflection, ib. s 17
Duration, 126, s 1, 2

Whence we get the idea of dura-
tion, 127, 128, s 3-5

Not from motion, 131, s 16

Its measure, ib. s 17, 18

Any regular periodical appear-
ance, 132, 8 19, 20

None of its measures known to
be exact, 133, s 21

We only guess them equal by the
train of our ideas, ib. s 21

Minutes, days, years, &c. not
necessary to duration, 135,
s 23

Change of the measures of dura-
tion, change not the notion of
it, ib. s 23

The measures of duration, as the
revolutions of the sun, may be
applied to duration before the
sun existed, l35-7,s 24, 25, 28

Duration without beginning,
136, s 26

How we measure duration, ib.
s 27-9

Recapitulation, concerning our
ideas of duration, time, and
eternity, 138, s 31
Duration and expansion com-
pared, 139, s 1

They mutually embrace each
other, 146, s 12

Considered as a line, 145, s 11

Duration not conceivable by us
without succession, 146, s 12

E.

Education, partly the cause of

unreasonableness, 323, s 3
Effect, 249, s 1
Enthusiasm, 608

Described, 610, s 6, 7
Its rise, 609, s 5
Ground of persuasion must be
examined, and bow, 611, s 10
Firmness of it, no sufficient

proof, 614, s 12, 13
Fails of the evidence it pretends
to, 612, s 11
Envy, 170, s 13, 14
Error, what, 616 s 1
Causes of error, ib.

1. Want of proofs, 617, s2

2. Want of skill to use them,
619, s 5

3. Want of will to use them,
ib. s 6

634

INDEX.

4. Wrong measures of probabi-
lity, 620, s 7
Fewer men assent to errors, than

is supposed, 627, s 18
Essence, real and nominal, 346,

s 15
Supposition of unintelligible,

real essences of species, of no

use, 347, s 17
Ileal and nominal essences, in

simple ideas and modes always

the same, in substance always

different, 348, s 18
Essences, how ingenerable and

incorruptible, ib. s 19
Specific essences of mixed

modes are of men's making,

and how, 357, s 3
Though arbitrary, yet not at

random, 359, s 7
Of mixed modes, why called

notions, 362, s 12
What, 366, s 2
Relate only to species, ib. s 4
Ileal essences, what, 368, s 6
We know them not, 370, s 9
Our specific essences of sub-

stances,nothing but collections

of sensible ideas, 375, s 21
Nominal are made by the mind,

377, s 26
But not altogether arbitrarily,

380, s 28
Nominal essences of substances,

how made, ib. s 28, 29

Are very various, 381, s 30;

382, s 31
Of species, are the abstract

ideas the names stand for,

372, s 12 ; 374, s 19
Are of man's making, 372, s 12
But founded in the agreement

of things, 373, s 13
Real essences determine not our

species, ib. 13
Everydistinct, abstract idea, with

a name, is a distinct essence

of a distinct species, ib. s 14
Real essences of substances, not

to be known, 513, s 12.
Essential, what, 366, s 2 ; 367,

s 5
Nothing essential to indivi-
duals, 366, s 4

But to species, 368, sU
Essential difference, what, 367,
s 5
Eternal verities, 567, s 14
Eternity, in our disputes and rea-
sonings about it, why we are
apt to blunder, 301, s 15
Whence we get its idea, 136,
s 27
Evil, what, 191, s 42
Existence, an idea of sensation
and reflection, 83, s 7
Our own existence we know in-
tuitively, 541, s 2
And cannot doubt of it, ib.
Of creatable things, knowable
only by our senses, 550, s 1
Past existence known only by
memory, 555, s 11
Expansion, boundless, 139, s 2
Should be applied to space in
general, 124, s 27
Experience often helps us, where
we think not that it does, 96,
s 8
Extasy, 166, s 1

Extension : we have no distinct
ideas of very great, or very
little, extension, 302, s 16
Of body, incomprehensible, 235,
s 23, &c.
Denominations, from place and
extension, are many of them
relatives, 251, s 5
And body not the same thing,

118, s 11
Its definition insignificant, 119,

s 15
Of body and of space how dis-
tinguished, 79, s 5; 124, s 27

F.

Faculties of the mind first exer-
cised, 109, s 14

Are but powers, 178, s 17

Operate not, 179, s 18, 20
Faith and opinion, as distin-
guished from knowledge,
what, 571, 572, s 2, 3

And knowledge, their dif-
ference, ib. 572, s 3

What, 582, s 14

Not opposite to reason, 600, s 24

INDEX.

635

As contra-distinguished to rea-
son, what, 601, s 2
Cannot convince us of any thing
contrary to our reason, 603-6,
&.C. s 5, 6, 8
Matter of faith is only divine

revelation, 606, s 9
Things above reason are only
proper matters of faith, 605,
s 7 ; 606, s 9
Falsehood, what it is, 504, s 9
Fancy, 103, s 8
Fastastical ideas, 304, s 1
Fear, 169, s 10
Figure, 115, s 5, 6
Figurative speech, an abuse of

language, 425, s 34
Finite, and infinite, modes of
quantity, 151, s 1
All positive ideas of quantity,
finite, 154, s 8
Forms, substantial forms distin-
guish not species, 371, s 10
Free, how far a man is so, 180,
s 21
A man not free to will, or not
to will, 180, 181, s 22-24
Freedom belongs only to agents,
179, s 19
Wherein it consists, 182, s 37
Free will, liberty belongs not to

the will, 177, s 14
Wherein consists that which is
called free will, 181, s 24;
194, s 47

G.

General ideas, how made, 107, s 9
Knowledge, what, 490, s 31
Propositions cannot be known
to be true, without knowing
the essence of the species,
506, s 4
Words, how made, 334-5, s 6-8
Belongs only to signs, 340, s 11
Gentlemen should not be igno-
rant, 226, s 6
Genus and species, what, 339, s 10
Are but Latin names for sorts,

361, s 9
Is but a partial conception of
what is in the species, 382, s 32
■ And species adjusted to the end
of speech, 384, s 33

A,nd species are made in order
to general names, 386, s 39
Generation, 249, s 2
God immoveable, because infi-
nite, 234, s 21

Fills immensity, as well as
eternity, 140, s 3

His duration not like that of
the creatures, 146, s 12

An idea of God not innate, 44,
s 8

The existence of a God evident,
and obvious to reason, 46, s9

The notion of a God once got,
is the likeliest to spread and
be continued, 46-8, s 9, 10

Idea of God late and imper-
fect, 50, s 13

Contrary, 50, 51, s 15, 16

Inconsistent, 50, s 15

The best notions of God, got by
thought and application, 51,
s 15

N otions of God frequently not
worthy of him, ib. s 16

The being of a God certain, ib. ;
proved, 540, s 1

As evident, as that the three an-
gles of a triangle are equal to
two right ones, 56, s 22

Yea, as that two opposite an-
gles are equal, 52, s 16

More certain than any other ex-
istence without us, 542, s 6

The idea of God not the only
proof of his existence, 543, s 7

The being of a God, the foun-
dation of morality and di-
vinity, ib. s 7

How we make our idea ofGod,
241, s 33, 34
Gold is fixed ; the various signi-
fications of this proposition,
392, s 50

Water strained through it, 79,
s 4
Good and evil, what, 168, s 2 ;
191, s 42

The greater good determines
not the will, 186, s 35 ; 188,
s 38 ; 192, s 44

Why, ib. s 44; 193, s 46 ; 201,
*c. ; s 59, 60, 64, 65, 68

Twofold, 202, s 61

G30

INDEX.

Works on the will only by de-
sire, 193, s 46

Desire of good how to be raised,
193, 194, s 46, 47

H.

Habit, 218, s 10

Habitual actions pass often with-
out our notice, 97, s 10

Hair, how it appears in a micro-
scope, 229, s 11

Happiness, what, 190, s 42
What happiness men pursue,

191, s 43
How we come to rest in narrow
happiness, 201, 202, s 59, 60

Hardness, what, 78, s 4

Hatred, 168, s 5 ; 170, s 14

Heat and cold, how the sensation
of them both is produced,
by the same water, at the
same time, 90, s 21

History, what history of most
authority, 580, s 11

Hope, 169, s 9

Hypotheses, their use, 665, s 13
Are to be built on matter of
fact, 64, s 10

I.

Ice and water whether distinct

species, 373, s 13
Idea, what, 98, s 8
Ideas, their original in children,

42, s 2 ; 50, s 13
None innate, 52, s 17
Because not remembered, 54,

s 20
Are what the mind is employed

about in thinking, 59, s 1
All from sensation or reflection,

60, s 2, &c.
How this is to be understood,

458
Their way of getting, observ-
able in children, 61, s 6
Why some have more, some

fewer, ideas, 62, s 7
Of reflection got late, and in

some very negligently, ib. s 8
Their beginning and increase

in children, 70, 71, s 21-4
Their original in sensation and

reflection, 71, s 24

Of one sense, 75, s 1

Want names, 76, s 2

Of more than one sense, 80

Of reflection, 81, s 1

Of sensation and reflection, ib.

s 1
As in the mind, and in things,

must be distinguished, 83 s 7,
Not always resemblances, 88,

s 15, &c.
Which are first, is not material

to know, 95, s 7
Of sensation often altered by

the judgment, 96, s 8
Principally those of sight, 97, s9
Of reflection, 109, s 14
Simple ideas men agree in, 125,

s 28
Moving in a regular train in our

minds, 129, s 9
Such as have degrees, want

names, 164, s 6
Why some have names, and

others not, ib. s 7
Original, 212, s 73
All complex ideas resolvable

into simple, 217, s 9
What simple ideas have been

most modified, 218, s 10
Our complex idea of God, and

other spirits, common in every

thing, but infinity, 242, s 36
Clear and obscure, 296, s 2
Distinct and confused, ib. s 4
May be clear in one part and ob-
scure in another, 300, s 13
Real and fantastical, 304, s 1
Simple are all real, ib. s 2
And adequate, 306, s 2
What ideas of mixed modes are

fantastical, 305, s 4
What ideas of substances are

fantastical, ib. s 5
Adequate and inadequate, 306,

s i
How said to be in things, ib.s2
Modes are all adequate ideas,

307, s 8

Unless as referred to names,

308, 309, s 4, 5

Of substances inadequate, 313,

sll
1. as referred to real essences,

300, s6; 311, s7

INDEX.

637

■2, as referred to a collection of
simple ideas, 311, s 8

Simple ideas are perfect sKTwec,
313, s 12

Of substances are perfect

iKTVJTCC, lb. S 13

Of modes are perfect arche-
types, 314, s 14

True or false, ib. si, ci-c.

When false, 321, 322, s 21-5

As bare appearances in the
mind, neither true nor false,
315, s 3

As referred to other men's
ideas, or to real existence,
or to real essences, may be
true or false, ib. s 4, 5

Reason of such reference, 315,
317, s 6-8

Simple ideas referred to other
men's ideas, least apt to be
false, 316, s 9

Complex ones, in this respect,
more apt to be false, espe-
cially those of mixed modes,
317, s 10

Simple ideas referred to exist-
ence, are all true, 318, s 14 ;
319, s 16

Though they should be diflerent
in different men, 318, s 15

Complex ideas of modes are
all true, 319, s 17

Of ; substances when false, 321,
s 21, &c.

When right or wrong, 323, s 26

That we are incapable of ,484, s 23

That we cannot attain, because
of their remoteness, 485, s 24

Because of their minuteness, ib.
s 25

Simple have a real conformity
to things, 492, s 4

And all others, but of sub-
stances, 493, s 5

Simple cannot be got by defini-
tion of words, 353, s 11

Butonly by experience, 355, s 14

Of mixed modes, why most
compounded, 354, s 13

Specific, of mixed modes, how
at first made : instance in
kinneah and uiouph, 389, 390,
s 44, 45

Of substances : instance in za-
hah, 390, s 46 ; 391, s 47

Simple ideas and modes have
all abstract, as well as con-
crete, names, 396, s 2

Of substances, have scarce any
abstract names, 397

Different in different men, 403,
s 13

Our ideas almost all relative,
172, s 3

Particulars arc first in the
mind, 401, s 9

General are imperfect, 402, s 9

How positive ideas may be from
privative causes, 85, s 4

The use of this term not dan-
gerous, 5, &c. It is fitter
than the word notion, 6.
Other words as liable to be
abused as this, ib. Yet it is
condemned, both as new and
not new, 8. The same with
notion, sense, meaning,&c. 442
Identical propositions teach no-
thing, 532, s 2
Identity, not an innate idea, 42, 43,
s3-5

And diversity, 252, s 1

Of a plant, wherein it consists,
254, s 4

Of animals, 255, s 5

Of a man, ib. s6; 256, s 8

Unity of substance does not
always make the same iden-
tity, 256, s 7

Personal identity, 258, s 9

Depends on the same con-
sciousness, 259, s 10

Continued existence makes
identity, 270, s 29

And diversity, in ideas, the first
perception of the mind, 442,
s 4
Idiots and madmen, 108, 109, s 12,

13
Ignorance, our ignorance infinitely
exceeds our knowledge, 483,
s22

Causes of ignorance, 484, s 23

1. For want of ideas, ib.

2. For want of a discoverable
connexion between the ideas
we have, 488, s 28

638

INDEX.

3. For want of tracing the ideas
we have, 489, s 30

Illation, what, 585, s 2

Immensity, 115, s 4

How this idea is got, 152, s 3

Immoralities of whole nations, 29,
s 9; 31,s 10

Immortality, not annexed to any
shape, 498, s 15

Impenetrability, 78, s 1

Imposition of opinions unreason-
able, 575, s 4

Impossibile est idem esse et non
esse, not the first thing
known, 22, s 25

Impossibility, not an innate idea,
42, s 3

Impression on the mind, what, 11,
s5

Inadequate ideas, 295 s 1

Incompatibility, how far know-
able, 478, s 15

Individuationis principium^ is ex-
istence, 254, s 3

Infallible judge of controversies,
48, s 12

Inference, what, 569, 570, s 2-4

Infinite, why the idea of infinite
not applicable to other ideas
as well as those of quantity,
since they can be as often
repeated, 153, s 6
The idea of infinity of space
or number, and of space or
number infinite, must be dis-
tinguished, 154, s 7
Our idea of infinite, very ob-
scure, ib. s 8
Number furnishes us with the
clearest ideas of infinite, 155,
s9
The idea of infinite, a growing

idea, 166, s 12
Our idea of infiuite, partly posi-
tive, partly comparative, part-
ly negative, 158, s 15
Why some men think tliey have
an idea of infinite duration,
but not of infinite space, 161,
s20
AVhy disputes about infinity
are usually perplexed, 162,
s21 '

Our idea of infinity has its

original in sensation and re-
flection, ib. s 22

We have no positive idea of
infinite, 157, sl3,14; 159,sl6
Infinity, why more commonly al-
lowed to duration than to
expansion, 140, s 4

How applied to God by us, 151,
s 1

How we get this idea, 151, 152,
s 2, 3

The infinity of number, dura-
tion, and space, different ways
considered, 145, s 10, 11
Innate truths must be the first
known, 23, s 26

Principles to no purpose, if men.
can be ignorant or doubtful
of them, 33, s 13

Principles of my Lord Herbert
examined, 35, s 15, &c.

Moral rules to no purpose, if ef-
faceable, or alterable, 38, s 20

Propositions must be distin-
guished from other by their
clearness and usefulness, 58,
s 24

The doctrine of innate princi-
ples of ill consequence, ib.
Instant, what, 129, s 10

And continual change, 130, 131,
s 13-15
Intuitive knowledge, 447, s 1

Our highest certainty, 696, s 14
Invention, wherein it consists,

103, s 8
Joy, 169, s 7

Iron, of what advantage to man-
kind, 564, s 11
Judgment : wrong judgments, in
reference to good and evil,
201, s 58

Right judgment, 411, s 4

One cause of wrong judgment,
575, s 3

Wherein it consists, 569, &c.

K.

Knowledge has a "gi-eat connexion
with words, 423, s 25
The author's definition of it ex-
plained and defended, 440,
note. How it diflers from
faith, 571-2, s 2, 3 ; 442, note

INDEX.

639

What, 439, s 2

How much our knowledge (de-
pends on our senses, 43Q, s 23

Actual, 445, s 8

Habitual, ib. s 8

Habitual, twofold, ib. s 9

Intuitive, 447, s 1

Intuitive, the clearest, ib.

Intuitive, irresistible, ib.

Demonstrative, 448, s 2

Of general truths, is all either
intuitive or demonstrative,
452, s 14

Of particular existences, is sen-
sitive, ib.

Clear ideas do not always pro-
duce clear knowledge, 453,
sl5

What kind of knowledge wc
have of nature, 617, s 2

Its beginning and progress,110,
s 15-7; 15, 16, s 15, 16

Given us, in the faculties to at-
tain it, 48, s 12

Men's knowledge according to
the employment of their fa-
culties, 56, s 22

To be got only by the applica-
tion of our own thought to
the contemplation of things,
57, s 23

Extent of human knowledge,447

Our knowledge goes not be-
yond our ideas, ib. s 1

Nor beyond the perception of
their agreement or disagree-
ment, 448, s 2

Reaches not to all our ideas,
449, s 3

INluch less to the reality of
things, ib. s 6

Yet very improveable if right
ways were taken, ib. s 6

Of co-existence very narrow,
475, 476, s 9-11

And, therefore, of substances
very narrow, 477, &c. s 14-6

Of other relations indetermin-
able, 479, s 18
Of existence, 483, s 21
Certain and universal, where to

be had, 488, s 29
111 use of words, a great hinder-
ance of knowledge, 489, s 30

General, where to be got, 490,
s 31

Lies only in our thoughts, 513,
s 13

Reality of our knowledge, 491

Of mathematical truths, how
real, 493, s 6

Of morality, real, 494, s 7

Of substances, how far real,
496, 8 12

What makes our knowledge
real, 492, s 3

Considering things, and not
names, the way to knowledge,
497, s 13

Of substance, wherein it con-
sists, 496, s 11

What required to any tolerable
knowledge of substances, 514,
s 14

Self-evident, 516, s 2

Of identity and diversity, as
large as our ideas, 475, s 8 ;
517, s 4

Wherein it consists, ib.

Of co-existence, very scanty,
519, s 5

Of relations of modes, not so
scanty, ib. s 6

Of real existence, none, ib. s 7

Begins in particulars, ib. s 9

Intuitive of our own existence,
540, s 3

Demonstrative of a God, ib. s 1

Improvement of knowledge, 558

Not improved by maxims, ib.sl

Why so thought, ib. 2

Knowledge improved, only by
perfecting and comparing
ideas, 561, s 6; 56t;, s 14

And finding their relations, 561,
s7

By intermediate ideas, 566, s 14

In substances, how to be im-
proved, 562, s 9

Partly necessary, partly volun-
tary, 567, s 1, 2

Why some, and so little, ib. s 2.

How increased, 577, s 6

L.

Language, why it changes, 610, s 7
Wherein it consist.s, 3.J0, s 1-3
Its use, 359, s 7

64(r

INDEX.

Its imperfections, 397, s 1

Double use, ib.

The use of language destroyed
by the subtilty of disputing,
412, s 6; 413, s 8

Ends of language, 423, s 23

Its imperfections, not easy to
be cured, 426, s2; 427-8, s4-G

The cure of them necessary to
philosophy, 427, s 3

To use no word without a clear
and distinct idea annexed to it,
is one remedy of the imper-
fections of language, 429,
s 8, 9

Propriety in the use of words,
another remedy, 430, s 11

Law of nature generally allowed,
28, s6

There is, though not innate,
33, s 13

Its enforcement, 286, s 6
Learning: the ill state of learning
in these latter ages, 397, t*ic.

Of the schools lies chiefly in the
abuse of words, 401, &c. 413

Such learning of ill consequence,
414, s 10, &c.
Liberty, what, 174, <fec. s 8-12 ;
177, s 15

Belongs not to the will, ib. 14

To be determined by the re-
sult of our own deliberation,
is no restraint of liberty,
194, 195, s 48-50

Founded in a power of suspend-
ing our particular desires,
194, s 47 ; 196, 197, s 51, 52
Light, its absurd definitions, 352,
slO

Lightin the mind, what, 614, s 13
Logic has introduced obscurity into
langxiages, 412, 413, s 6, 7

And hindered knowledge, 413,
s7
Love, 168, s 4

M.

Madness, 109, s 13. Opposition
to reason deserves that name,
324, s 4

Magisterial, the most knowing are
least magisterial, 575, s 4

Making, 249, s 2

Man not the product of blind
chance, 542, s 6

The essence of man is placed in
his shape, 499, s 16

We know not his real essence,
366, s 3; 375, s 22; 379, s 27

Tlie boundaries of the human
species not determined, ib.
s 27

What makes the same individual
man, 265, s 21 ; 270, s 29

The same man may be different
persons, 265, s 19
Mathematics, their methods, 561,
s 7. Improvement, 566, s 15
Matter incomprehensible, both in
its cohesion and divisibility,
235, s 23 ; 239, s 30, 31

What, 404, s 15

Whether it may think, is not to
be known, 455, s 6 ; 462, &c.

Cannot produce motion, or any
thing else, 544, s 10

And motion cannot produce
thought, ib.

Not eternal, 548, s 18
Maxims, 516, &c. ; 527-9, s 12-15

Not aJone self-evident, 516, s 3

Are not the truths first known,
519, s 9

Not the foundation of our know-
ledge, 521, s 10

Wherein their evidence con-
sists, ib. s 10

Their use, 522-7, s 11, 12,

Why the most general self-evi-
dent propositions alone pass
for maxims, 522, s 11

Are commonly proofs, only
where there is no need of
proofs, 529, s 15

Of little use, with clear terms,
531, s 19

Of dangerous use, with doubtful
terms, 527, s 12 ; 531, s 29

W^hen first known, 13, &c.
s 9-13 ; 15, s 14 ; 16, s 16

How they gain assent, 19, 20,
s 21,22

INIade from particular observa-
tions, ib.

Not in the understanding before
they are actually known, 20,
s22

INDEX.

641

Neither their terms nor ideas

innate, ib. s 23
Least known to children and
illiterate people, 23, s 27
Memory, 99, s 2

Attention, pleasure, and pain,
settled ideas in the memory,
100, s 3
And repetition, ib. s 4; 101, s6
Differeiii^" of, 100, 101, s 4, 5
Inremembrance, the mind some-
times active, sometimes pas-
sive, 102, s 7
Its necessity, 101, s 5 ; 102, s 8
Defects, 102, 103, s 8, 9
In brutes, 103, s 10
Metaphysics, and school divinity,
filled with uninstructive pro-
positions, 537, s 9 [s 7
Method used in mathematics, 561,
Mind, the quickness of its ac-
tions, 97, s 10
Minutes, hours, days, not neces-
sary to duration, 135, s 23
Miracles, 582, s 13
Misery, what, 190, s 42
Modes, mixed, 213, s 1

Made by the mind, 214, s 2
Sometimesgotby the explication

of their names, ib. s 3
"Whence its unity, 215, s 4
Occasion of mixed modes, ib. s 5
Their ideas, how got, 217, s 9
Modes simple and complex, 112,
Simple modes, 110, si [s 5
Of motion, 163, s 2
Moral good and evil, what, 286, s 5
Three rules whereby men judge

of moral rectitude, ib. s 7
Beings, how founded on simple
ideas of sensation and reGec-
tion, 291, 292, s 14, 15
Rules not self-evident, 27, s 4
Variety of opinions concerning

moral rules, 27, 28, s 5,6
liules, if innate, cannot with
public allowance be trans-
gressed, 31, &c. s 11-13
Morality, capable of demonstra-
tion, 598, s 16; 480, s 18;
562, s 8 [5G3, s 1 1

Tiie proper study of mankind.
Of actions, in their conformity
lo a rule, 292, s 15

T

Mistakes in moral notions,
owing to names, 293, s 16

Discourses in morality, if not
clear, the fault of the speaker,
433, s 17

Hioderances of demonstrative
treating of morality ; 1 , Want
of marks; 2, Complexedness,
481,sl9'; 3, Interest, 482, s20

Change of names in morality,
changes not the nature of
things, 504, s 9

And mechanism, hard to be re-
conciled, 34, s 14

Secured amidst men's wrong
judgments, 208, s 70
Motion, slow or very swift, why
not perceived, 129, 130, s 7-11

Vokutary,iiiexplicable,549,sl9

Its absurd definitions, 351, s 8, 9

N.
Naming of ideas, 107, s 8
Names, moral, established by law,
not to be varied from, 495, s 10

Of substances, standing for real
essences, are not capable to
convey certainty to the im-
derstandiug, 503, s 5

For nominal essences, will make
some, though not many, cer-
tain propositions, 508, s 6

IV hy men substitute names for
real essences, which they
knov,' not, 4li), s 19

Two false suppositions, in such
an use of names, 420, s 21

A particular name to every par-
ticular thing iuipossible,336 s2

And useless, ib. s 3 [s 4, 5

Proper names, whercused, 336-7,

Specific names are aflsxed to the
nominal essence, 3-17, s 16

Of simple ideas and substances,
refer to things, 350, s 2

What names stand for both real
and nominal essence, ib. s 3

Of simple ideas not capable of
definitions, ib. s 4

Why, 351, s 7 [355, s 15

Of least doubtful signification,

IJave few accents in linca prcE-
dicavieniali, ib. s 16

Of complex idea?, may be do-

♦>42

INDEX.

lined, 354, s 12

Of mixed modes stand for arbi-
trary ideas,357,s2,3; 389, s44

Tie together the parts of their
complex ideas, 361, s 10

Stand always for the real es-
sence, 363, s 14

Why got, usually, before the
ideas are known, 364, s 15

Of relations comprehended under
those of mixed modes, ib. s 16

General names of substances
stand for sorts, 365, s 1

Necessary to species, 386, s 39

Proper names belong only to
substances, 388, s 42

Of modes in their iirst applica-
tion, 389, 390, s 44, 45

Of substances in their first ap-
plication, 390, 391, s 46, 47

Specific names stand for different
things in differentmen, 391, s48

Are put in the place of the thing
supposed to have the real es-
sence of the species, 392, s49

Of mixed modes, doubtful of-
ten, 399, s G

Because they want standards in
nature, ib. s 7 [s 11-14

Of substances, doubtful, 402, &c.

In their philosophical use, hard
to have settled significations,
404, s 15 [406, s 17

Instance,liquor,405, s 16 ; gold.

Of simple ideas, why least
doubtful, 407, s 18

Least compounded ideas have the
least dubious names, ib. s 19

Natural philosophy, not capable
of science, 486, s 26 ; 563 slO

Yet very useful, 664, s 12

How to be improved, ib.

What has hindered its improve-
ment, 565, s 12
Necessity, 177, s 13
Negative terms, 330, s 4

Names signify the absence of
positive ideas, 86, s 5
Newton (Mr.), 522, s 11
Nothing; that nothing cannot pro-
duce any thing, is demonstra-
Notions, 214, s 2 [tion, 541, s 3
Number, 147 [ideas, ib. s 3

Modes of, the most distinct

Demonstrations in numbers, the

most determinate, ib. s 4
The general measure, 150, s 8
A fiords the clearest idea of in-
finity, 155, s 9
Numeration, what, 148, s 5
Names necessary to it, ib. s 5, 6
And order, 147, s 7
Why not early in children, and
in some never, ib.

O.

Obscurity, unavoidable in ancient

authors, 402, s 10 [296, s 3

The cause of it in our ideas.

Obstinate, they are most, who have

least examined, 575, s 3
Opinion, what, 572, s 3

How opinions grow up to prin-
ciples, 39, etc. s 22-26
Of others, a wrong ground of
assent, 573, s 6; 626, s 17
Organs : our oi'gans suited to our
state, 623, dc. s 12, 13

P.

Pain, present, Avorks presently,
204, s 64
Its use, 82, s 4 [256, s 8

Parrot meiltioned by Sir W. T.
Holds a rational discourse, 257
Particles join parts, or whole sen-
tences, together, 393, s 1
In them lies the beauty of well-
speaking, ib. s 2 [394, s 3
How their use is to be known.
They express some action or
posture of the mind, ib. s 4
Pascal, his great memory, 103, s 9
Passion, 218, s 11 [ror, 580, s 11
Passions, how they lead us into er-
Turn on pleasure and pain, 1()8,
Are seldom single, 189, s 39 [s3
Perception threefold, 173, s 5
In perception, the mind for the

most part passive, 94, s 1
Is an impression made on the

mind, ib. s 3, 4
In the womb, 95, s 5
Difterence between it, and in-
nate ideas, ib. s 6
Puts the difierence between the
animal and vegetable king-
dom, 98, s 11
The several degrees of it, show
the wisdom and goodness of
the Maker, ib. s 12

INDEX.

643

Belongs to all animals, ib.s 12-14
The first inlet of knowledge, 99,
Person, what, 258, s 9 [s 15

A forensic term, 2G8, s 26
The same consciousness alone

makes the same person, 261,

s 13; 266, s 23
The same soul without the same

consciousness, makes not the

same person, 261, s 14, cKrc.
Reward and punishment follow

personal identity, 264, s IB
Phantastical ideas, 304, s 1
Place, 116, s 7, 8

Use of place, 117, s 9 [ib. s 10
Nothing but a relative position.
Sometimes taken for the space

bodv fills, ib.
Twofold, 141, s 6 ; 142-3, s6, 7
Pleasure and pain, 167, s 1 ; 170,

s 15, 16
Join themselves to most of oar

ideas, 81, s 2 [tions, 82, s 3
Pleasure, why joined to several ac-
Power, how we come by its idea,

171, si
Active and passive, ib. s 2
No passive pow-er in God, no ac-
tive in matter ; both active

and passive in spirits, ib. s 2
Our idea of active power clear-
est from reflection, 172, s 4
Powers operate not on powers,

179, s 18
Make a great part of the ideas

of substances, 227, s 7
Why, 228, s 8 [tion, 84, s 8
An idea of sensation and reflec-
Practical principles not innate, 25,

si [s-2

Not universally assented to, 26,
Are for operation, ib. 3
Not agreed, 34, s 14
Different, 39, s 21
Principles, not to be received

without strict examination,

560, s 4 ; 621, s 8
The ill consequences of wrong

principles, 621, &c. s 9, 10
None innate, 9, s 1 [s 2-4

None universally assented to, 10,
How ordinarily got, 39, s 22, &c.
Are to be examined, 40-1, s 26-7
Not innate, if the ideas they are

madeupof,arenotinnatc,42,sl

Private terms, 330, s 4
Probability, what, 570, <<:c. s 1, 3
The grounds of probability, 572,
In matter of fact, 577, s 6 [s 4
How we are to judge in probabi-
lities, 572, s 5 [s 9
DifTiculties in probabilities, 578,
Grounds of probability in specu-
lation, 580, s 12 ' [620, s 7
Wrong measures of probability.
How evaded by prejudiced
minds, 624, s 13, 14
Proofs, 449, s 3 [known, 374, sl9
Properties of specific essences, not
Of things very numerous, 312,
s 10; 322, s24
Propositions, identical, teach no-
thing, 532, s2 [4 ; 539, s 13
Generical, teach nothing, .534, s
Wherein a part of the definition
is predicated of the subject,
teach nothing, 535, s 5, 6
But the signification of the

word, 536, s 7
Concerning substances, general-
ly either trifling or uncertain,
537, s 9 [known, 538, s 12
Merely verbal, how to be
Abstract terms, predicated one
of another, produce merely
verbal propositions, ib.
Or part of a complex idea, pre-
dicated of the whole, 534, s4;
539, s 13
More propositions, merely ver-
bal, than is suspected , 539, s 13
Universal propositions concern

not existence, ib.s 1
What propositions concern ex-
istence, ib.
Certain propositions, concerning
existence, are particular; con-
cerning abstract ideas, may be
general, 546, s 13
Mental, 501, s 3; 502, s 5
Verbal, ib. s 3; ib. s 5 [s 3, 4
Mental, hard to be treated, 501,
Punishment, w hat, 286, s 5

And reward, follow conscious-
ness, 264, s 18 ; 269, s 26
An unconscious drunkard, why
punished, 266, s 22

Q.

Qualities : secondary qualities,

644

INDEX.

their connexion, or inconsist-
ence, unknown, 476, s 11
Of substances, scarce knovvable,
but by experience, 477, &c. s
14,1G [ofcorporeal,479,sl7
Of spiritual substances less than
Secondary, have no conceivable
connexion with the primary,
that produce them, 476, &c.
s 12, 13 ; 488, s 28
Of substances, depend on remote
causes, 511, s 11 [435, s 21
Not to be known by descriptions,
Secondary, how tar capable of
demonstration, 451-2, s 11-13
What, 87, s 10 ; 89, s 16
How said to be in things, 304, s 2
Secondary, would be other, if
we could discover the minute
parts of bodies, 229, s 11
Primary 87, s 9 [ib. 11, 12

How they produce ideas in us,
Secondary qualities, 88, s 13-15
Primary qualities resemble our
ideas, secondary not, 88, &c.
s 15, IG, &c. " [91, s 23

Three sorts of qualities in bodies,
i. e. primary, secondary, imme-
diately perceivable ; and se-
condary, mediately perceiv-
able, 93, s 26 [&c. s 23-25
Secondary, are bare powers, 91,
Secondary have no discei-nible
connexion with the first, 93,
s 25 [on, 580, s 11

Quotations, how little to be relied

11.

Heal ideas, 304, s 1, 2 [583, s 1
Keason, its various significations.
What, ib. s 2 [609, s 4

Keason is natural revelation.
It must judge of revelation,
614-15, s 14, 15 [thing, ib.
It must be our last guide in every
Four parts of reason, 584, s 3
Where reason fails us, 595, s 9
Necessary in all but intuition,
597, s 15 [what, 601, s 2

As contra-distinguished to faith,
Helps us not to the knowledge
of innate tru'Jis, 11, 12, s5-8
General ideas, general terms,
and reason, usually grow to-
gether, 15, s 15

Recollection, 165, s 1
lieflection, 60, s 4
Related, 244, s 1
Relation, ib.

Proportional, 284, s I

Natural, ib. s 2

Instituted, 285, s 3

Moral, ib. s 4

Numerous, 293, s 17

Terminate in simple ideas, ib. s 18

Our clear ideas of relation, 294,
s 19 [s 19

Names of relations doubtful, ib.

Without correlative terms, not so
commonly observed, 245, s 2

Different from the things re-
lated, 246, s 4

Changes without any chang ein
the subject, ib. s 5

Always between two, ib. s G

All things capable of relation,
247, s^7

The idea of the relation, often
clearer than of the things re-
lated, ib. s 8

All terminate in simple ideas of

sensation and reflection, 248,

Relative, 244, si [s 9

Same relative terms taken for ex-
ternal denominations, 245, s2

Some for absolute, 246, s 3

How to be known, 248, s 10

Many words, though seeming ab-
solute, are relatives, 246, s 3-5
Religion, all men have time to en-
quire into, 618, s 3

But in many places are hinder-
ed from. enquiring, ib. s 4

Remembrance, of great moment
in common life, 102, s 8

What, 53, s 20 ; 102, s 7
Reputation, of great force in com-
mon life, 290, s 12
Restraint, 177, s 13 [it, 280, &c.
Resurrection, the author's notion of

Not necessarily understood of
tiie same body, ib. &c. The
meaning of his body, 2 Cor.
v. 10, 272

The same body of Christ arose,

and why, 274, 275. How the

scripture speaks about it, 283

Revelation, an unquestionable

ground of assent, 582, s 14

Belief, noj^roof of it, 615, s 15

INDEX

645

Traditional revelation cannot
convey any new t?iniple ideas,
602, s 3 [senses, 604, s 4

Not so sure as our reason or

In things of reason, no need of
revelation, ib. s 5

Cannot over-rule our clear know-
ledge, ib. s 5 ; 607, s 10

Must over-rule probabilities of
reason, 606, s 8, 9
Reward, what, 286, s 5 [s 34

Khetoric, an art of deceiving, 425,

Sagacity, 449, s 3

Same, v.hether substance, mode,

or concrete, 276, s 28
Sand, Avhite to the e3'e, pellucid in

a microscope, 229, s 11
Sceptical, no one so sceptical as to
doubthis own existence, 541, s2
Schools, whereinfaulty, 412, s 6, &c.
Science, divided into a consider-
ation of nature, of operation,
and of signs, 623 [s 29

No science of uaturalbodies, 488,
Scripture ; interpretations of scrip-
ture not to be imposed, 409,
s 23 [266-8, s 23-5

Self, what makes it, 265, s 20 ;
Self-love, 323, s 2 [ness in us, ib.
Partly cause of unreasonable-
Self-evident propositions, where to
be had, 516, <i'C.
Neither needed nor admitted
Sensation,60, s 3 [proof, 531, s 19
Disting-uishable from other per-
ceptions, 452, s 14
Explained, 90, s 21
What, 165, s 1
Senses : why we cannot conceive
other qualities, than the ob-
jects of our senses, 74, s 3
Learn to discern by exercise,

435, s 21
Much quicker would not be use-
ful to us, 623, s 12
Our organs of sense suited to
our state, ib. Ac. s 12, 13
Sensible knowledge is as certain
as Ave need, 553, s 8
Sensible knowledge goes not be-
yond the present act, 554, s 9
Shame, 170, s 17
Simple ideas, 72, s 1

Not made by the mind, ib. 2
Power of the mind over them,
114, s 1 [ledge, 84, s 10

The materials, of all our kuow-
All positive, ib. [85, s 2, 3

Very different from their causes.
Sin, with dilFerent men, stands for

different actions, 37, s 19
Solidity, 76, s 1

Inseparable from body, ib.
By it body fills space, 77, s 2
This idea got by touch, 76, s 1
How distinguished from space,

77, s 3
Hov/ from hardness, 78, s 4
Sometuing from eternity, demon-
Sorrow, 169, s 8 [strated, 543, s 8
Soul thinks not always, 63, s 9, &c.
Not in sound sleep, 64, s 11, &c.
Its immateriality, we know not,

455, &c. s 6 f 465, &c.
Religion, not concerned in the
soul's immateriality, 473, s 6
Our ignorance about it, 269, s 27
The immortality of it, not proved
by reason, 466, &c. [lion, ib.
It is brought to light by revela-
Sound, its modes, 163, s 3
Space, its idea got by sight and
touch, 114, s 2
Its modification, ib. s 4
Not body, 118, s 11, 12
Its parts inseparable, ib. s 13
Immoveable, 119, s 14
AVhether body , or spirit, 120, sl6
Whether substance, or accident,

ib. s 17
Infinite, 121, s 21; 152, s4
Ideas of space and body distinct,

123, 124, s 24, 25
Considered as a solid, 145, s 11
Hard to conceive any real being
void of space, ib.
Species ; why changing one i;imp]e
idea of the complex one, is
thought to change the species
in modes but not in sub-
stances, 419, s 19
Of animals and vegetables, dis-
tinguished by figure, 380, s 29
Of other things, by colour, ib.
Made by the understanding, for

communication, 331, s 9
No species cf mixed modes
without a name, 362, s 11

646

INDEX.

Of substances, are (letermined
by the nominal essence, 3G9,
&c. s 7, 8, II, 13

Not by substantial forms, 371,
s 10 [s 18 ; 377, s 25

Nor by tbe real essence, 373,

Of spirits, how distinguished,
371, s 11

More species of creatures above
than below us, 372, s 12

Of creatures very gradual, ib.

What is necessary to the making
of species, by real essences,
373, s 14, &c.

Of animals and plants, not dis-
tinguished by propagation,
376, s 23

Of animals and vegetables, dis-
tinguished principally by the
shape and figure ; of other
things, by the colour, 280, s 29

Of man, likewise, in part, 377,
s 26 [378, s 26

Instance, Abbot of St. Martin,

Ts but a partial conception of
what is in the individuals,
382, s 32

It is the complex idea which the
name stands for, that makes the
species, 385, s 35 [385-6,s36-7

Man makes the species, or sorts.

The foundation of it is in the si-
militude found in things, ib.

Every distinct, abstract idea, a
different species, 386, s 38
Speech, its end, 330, s 1, 2

Proper speech, 335, s 8

Intelligible, ib. [able, 556, s 12
Spirits, the existence of, not know-

How it is proved, ib.

Operation of spirits on bodies,
not conceivable, 488, s 28

What knowledge they have of
bodies, 436, s 23

Separate, how their knowledge
may exceed ours, 103, s 9

We have as clear a notion of
the substance of spirit, as of
body, 226, s 5

A conjecture concerning one
way of knowledge wherein
spirits excel us, 231, s 13

Our ideas of spirit, 232, s 14

As clear as that of body, ib. ;
234, s 22

Primary ideas belonging to spi-

Move,234,sl9 [rits,233,sl8

Ideas of spirit and body, com-
pared, 234, s 22 ; 239, s 30

Existence of, as easy to be ad -
mittedastbatofbodies,238,s28

We have no idea how spirits
communicate their thoughts,
242, s 36

How far we are ignorant of the
being, species, and properties
of spirits, 487, s 27

The word spirit, does not ne-
cessarilydenote immateriality,
456 [spirits, ib.

The scripture speaks of material
Stupidity, 102, s 8
Substance, 219, s 1

No idea of it, 52, s 18

Not very knowable, ib.

Our certainty, concerning sub-
stances,reachesbutalittleway,
496, s 11,12; 515, s 15

The confused idea of substance
in general, makes always a
part of the essence of the
species of substances, 375, s 21

In substances, we must rectify
the signification of their names,
by the things, more tban by
definitions,436, s24 [113, s6

Their ideas single, or collective,

^*/e have no distinct idea of sub-
stance, 120, 121, s 18,19

We have no idea of pure sub-
stance, 221, s 2

Our ideas of the sorts of sub-
stances, 223,&c. s 3, 4 ; 226, s 6

Observable, in our ideas of sub-
stances, 242, s 37 [243, &c.

Collective ideas of substances.

They are single ideas, ib. s 2

Three sorts of substances,253,s2

The ideas of substances, have a
double reference, 309, s 6

The properties of substances,
numerous, and not all to be
known, 312, s 9, 10 [227, s 7

Theperfectest ideas of substances.

Three sorts of ideas make our
complex one of substances,
228, s 9 [essay, 222, &c.

Substance, not discarded by the

The author's account of it clear as
that of noted logicians, 223,c1c.

INDEX.

G47

Wc talk like children about it,

The author makes not the being
of it depend on the fancies
of men, 220, &c.

Idea of it obscure, 456, &c.

The author's principles consist

with the certainty of its exist-

Subtilty, what, 413, s 8 [ence, 220

Succession, an idea got chiefly

from the train of our ideas,

«4, s 9; 128, s 6 [it, 130, s 12

Which train is the measure of
Summum bonum, wherem it con-
sists, 198, s 55
Sun, the name of a species, though
but one, 30*5, s 1 [585, s 4
Syllogism, no help to reasoning,

The use of syllogism, ib.

Inconveniences of s^'llogism, ib.

Of no use in probabilities,
592, s 5 [593, s 6

Helps not to new discoveries.

Or the improvement of our
knowledge, ib. s 7

Whether, in syllogism, the mid-
dle terms maj' not be better
placed, 594, s 8

May be about particulars, ib. s 8

Taste and smells, their modes,

1G4, s 5 [force, 579, s 10

Testimony, how it lessens its

Tiiinking, 1G5 [s 2

Modes of thinking, ib. s 1 ; IGG,

Men's ordinary way of thinking,

501, s 4 [s 10

An operation of the soul, G3,

Without memory useless, GG,

Time, what, 131, s 17, 18 [s 15

Not the measure of motion, 134,

s 22
And place, distinguishable por-
tions of inlinite duration and
expansion, 141, s 5, 6
Two-fold, 142, s 6, 7
Denominations from time are
relatives, 250, s 3
Toleration, necessary in our state

of knowledge, 575, s 4
Tradition, the older, the less cre-
dible, ib. s 10
Trilling propositions, 531

Discourses, 537,538, s9, 10, 11

Truth, what, 501, s 2; 502, s G
Of thought, 501, s 3 ; 504, s 9
Of words, 501, s 3
Verbal and real, 504, s 8, 9
Moral, 505, s 11
Metaphysical, 314, s 2
General, seldom apprehended,

but in words, 50G, s 2
In what it consists, 502, s 5
Loveofitnecessary,G08,sl [si
How we may know we love it, ib.

V.

Vacuum possible, 123, s 22 [s 23
Motion proves a vacuum, 123,
We have an idea of it, 77, s 3 ;
79, s 5
Variety in men's pursuits, ac-
counted for, 198, s 54, &c.
Virtue, what, in reality, 3G, s 18
What in its common applica-
tion, 31, s 10, 11
Is preferable, under a bare pos-
sibility of a future state, 208,
How taken, 36, s 17, 18 [s 70
Vice lies in wrong measures of

good, 625, s 16
Understanding, what, 173-4, s 5, 6
Like a dark room, 110, s 17
When rightly used, 3, s 5 [s 5
Three sorts of perception in, 173,
Wholly passive in the reception
of simple ideas, 71, s 25
Uneasiness alone determines the
will to a new action, 183, &c.
s 29, 31, 33, &c. [s 36, 37
Why it determines the will, 187,
Causes of it, 200, s 57, clc.
Unity, an idea, both of sensation
and reflection, 83, s 7 [si
Suggested by every thing, 147,
Universality, is only in signs, 340,
Universals, how made, 107, s 9 [sll
Volition, what, 173, s 5; 177,
s 15 ; 183, s 23
Better known by reflection, ihan
words, 184, s 30 [182, s 27
Voluntary, what, 173, s 5; 176, sll;

W.

What is, is, is not universally

assented to, 10, s 4
Where and when, 142, s 8
Whole, bigger than its parts, its
use, 522, sll [44, s 6

And part not innate ideas.

648

INDEX.

Will, what, 173, 174, s 5, 6 ; 178,

s 16 ; 183, s 20 [s 29

What determines the will, ib.

Often confounded with desire,

184, s 30
Is conversant only about our

own actions, ib. s 30
Terminates in them, 190, s 40
Is determined by the greatest,
present, removable uneasi-
ness, ib. [ferent, 105, s 2
Wit and judgment, wherein dif-
Words, an ill use of, one great
hinderance of knowledge, 489,
Abuse of words, 410 [s 30
Sects introduce words without

signification, ib. s 2
The schools have coined multi-
tudes of insignificant words,
ib. s 2 [412, s 6

And rendered others obscure.
Often iised without signification.
And why, 412, s 5 [411, s 3

Inconstancy in their use, an

abuse of words, ib. s 5
Obscurity, an abuse of words,

412, s 6
Taking them for things, an abuse

of words, 416, s 14, 15
Who most liable to this abuse

of words, ib.
This abuse of words is a cause

of obstinacy in error, 417, s 16
Making them stand for real es-
sences we know not, is an
abuse of words, 418, s 17, 18
The supposition of their cer-
tain evident signification, an
abuse of words, 421, s 22
Use of words is, 1, To commu-
nicate ideas; 2, With quick-
ness ; 3, To convey know-
ledge, 422, 423, s 23, 24
How they fail in ail these, 423,

s 26, &c.
How in substances, 424, s 32
How in modes and relations,
425, s 33 [of error, 427, s 4
Misuse of words, a great cause
Of obstinacy, ib. s 5
And of wrangling, 428, s 6
Signify one thing in enquiries ;
and another in disputes, ib. s 7
The meaning of words is made
known, in simple ideas, by

showing, 432, s 14 [ib. s 16
In mixed modes, by defining.
In substances, by showing and
defining too, 434, s 19 ; 435,
s 21,22
The ill consequence of learning
words first, and their mean-
ing afterwards, 436, s 24
No shame to ask men the mean-
ing of their words, where they-
are doubtful, 437, s 25
Are to be used constantly in the

same sense, 439, s 26
Or else to be explained, where
the context determines it not,
How madegeneral,330,s3[ib.s27
Signifying insensible things, de-
rived from names of sensible
ideas, ib. s 5 [332, s 1

Have no natural signification,
But by imposition, 335, s 8
Stand immediately for the ideas
of the speaker, 332, 333, s 1-3
Yet with a double referenca : —

1, To the ideas in the hearer's
mind, 334, s 4

2, To the reality of things, ib. s 5
Apt, by custom, to excite ideas,

ib. s 6
Often used without significa-
tion, ib. s 7
Most general, 336, s 1
Why some words of one lan-
guage cannot be translated
into those of another, 360, s 8
Why I have been so large on

words, 364, s 16
New words, or in new significa-
tions, are cautiously to be
used, 392, s 51
Civil use of words, 398, s 3
Philosophical use of words, ib.
These very different, 404, s 15
Miss their end when they excite
not, in the hearer, the same
idea as in the mind of the
speaker, 398, s 4 [wh}^ ib. s 5
What words most doubtful, and
What unintelligible, ib. [399, s 2
Fitted to the use of common life.
Not translatable, 360, s 80
Worship not an innate idea, 44, s 7
Wrangle, about words, 539, s 13
Writings, ancient,why hardly to be
preciseJy understood, 409, s 22"

D. Cartwriglit, Printer, 91, Barlbolomew Close, West SmithBeld.

V ../'*^r~:;'