* JAMES BJEATTIE-
AN
ESSAY
ON THE
NATURE AND IMMUTABILITY
OF
TRUTH,
IN OPPOSITION TO
SOPHISTRY AND SCEPTICISM.
BY JAMES BEATTIE, LL.D.
PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY AND LOGIC IN THE MARISCHAt
COLLEGE AND UNIVERSITY OF ABERDEEN.
NVNQFAM ALIVD NXTURA, ALIUD SAPIENTIA DIGIT. JUVEXAT,,
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED FORDENHAM & DICK, NO. 19. COLLEGE STREET,
BY THOMAS TURNBULL, CANONGATE,
THE
C O N T E N T S.
Page.
INTRODUCTION, 7
PART I.
OF THE STANDARD OF TRUTH 20
CHAP. I.
Of the Perception of Truth in general 21
C H A P II.
All reasoning terminates in first princi
ples. All evidence ultimately intuitive.
Common sense the standard of truth
to man 35
Sect. 1. Of Mathematical Reasoning,. ... 3G
Sect. 2. Of the evidence of External
Sense, . 40
Sect. 3. Of the evidence of Internal Sense y
or Consciousness, 45
Sect. 4. Of the evidence of Memory, .... 59
Sect. 5. Of Reasoning from the effect to
the cause, 65
Sect. 6. Of Probable or Experimental
Reasoning, % 78
Sect. 7- Of Analogical Reasoning, 82
Sect. 8. Of Faith in Testimony, 84
Sect. 9. Conclusion of this Chapter.
Further Proof. General remarks on
Scepticism, . , 90
A.
CONTENTS^
P A R T II.
Page.
ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE PRECEDING DOC
TRINE, WITH INFERENCES, 100-
C H A P. I.
Confirmation of this Doctrine from the
Practice,
Sect. 1. Of Mathematicians, 102"
Sect. 2. Of Natural Philosophers, 110
Sect. 3. The subject continued. Intuitive
Truths distinguishable Into Classes, .... 133>
CHAP. II.
This Doctrine rejected by Sceptical Philo
sophers,
Sect. 1. General Observations. Rise and
progress of Modern Scepticism. Of
Des Cartes and Malebranche. Locke
and Berkeley. General view of Mr
Hume s Theory of the Understand-
149
ing,
Sect. 2. Of the non-existence of Matter > 171
Sect. 3, Of Liberty and Necessity , . . . , . 193
CHAP. III.
Recapitulation and Inference. Criterion
of Truth, 240
PART HI,
OBJECTIONS ANSWERED. ......
CONTENTS,
CHAP. I.
The principles of this Essay consistent with
the interests of Science, and the rights
of mankind. Imperfection of the School-
logic, ". > 245
C H A P. II.
The subject continued. Estimate of Me-
taphysic and Metaphysical writers.
Causes of the present degeneracy of
Moral Science, 261
CHAP. III.
Consequences of Metaphysical Scepticism,
POSTSCRIPT, . ,. , , , . ,.., ... , , .......
INTRODUCTION.
TO those who love learning and mankind, and who
are more ambitious to distinguish themselves as
men, than as disputants, it is matter of humiliation and
regret, that names and things have so oft been mista
ken for each other ; that so much of the philosopher s
time must be employed in ascertaining the signification
of words ; and that so many doctrines, of high^ repu
tation, and of ancient date, when traced to their first
principles, have been found to terminate in verbal am
biguity. If I have any knowledge of my own heart,
or of the subject I propose to examine, I may venture
to assure the reader, that it is no part of the design of
this book, to encourage verbal disputation. On the
contrary, it is my sincere purpose to avoid, and to do
every thing in my power to check it ; convinced as I
am, that it never can do any good, and that it has been
the cause of much evil, both in philosophy and in com
mon life. And I hope I have a fairer chance to escape
it, than some who have gone before me in this part of
science. I aim at no paradoxes ; my prejudices (If
certain instinctive suggestions of the understanding
may be so called ) are all in favour of truth and virtue ;
and I have no principles to support, but those which
seem to me to have influenced the judgment of a great
majority of mankind in all ages of the world.
Some readers may think, that there is but little me
rit in this declaration ; it being as much for my own
credit, as for the interest of mankind, that I guard a-
gainst a practice, which is acknowledged to be always
unprofitable, and generally pernicious. A verbal dis
putant ! what claim can he have to the title of philo
sopher ! what has he to do with the laws of nature,
with the observation of facts, with life and manners !
Let him not intrude upon the company of men of
science ; but repose with his brethren Aquinas and
Suarex, in the corner of some Gothic cloister, dark as
A
O INTRODUCTION.
his understanding, and cold as Iris heart. Men are nt>w
become too judicious to be amused with words, and too
firm-minded to be confuted with quibbles. Many of
my contemporaries would readily join in this apo
strophe, who yet are themselves the dupes of the most
egregious dealers in logomachy that ever perverted the
faculty of speech. In fact, from some instances that
have occurred to my own observation, I have reason
to believe, that verbal controversy has not always,
even in this age, been accounted a contemptible thing :
and the reader, when he comes to be better acquainted
with my sentiments, will perhaps think the foregoing
declaration more disinterested than at iirst sight it may
appear.
They who form opinions concerning the manners
and principles of the times, may be divided into three
classes. Some will tell us, that the present age tran
scends all that have gone before it, in politeness,
learning, and good sense ; will thank Providence (or
their stars) that their lot of life has been cast in so
glorious a period ; and wonder how men could support
existence amidst the ignorance and barbarism of former
days. By others we are accounted a generation of
triflers and profligates ; sciolists in learning, hypocrites
in virtue, and formalists in good -breeding ; wise only
when w r e follow the ancients, and foolish whenever we
deviate from them. Sentiments so violent are gener
ally wrong : and therefore I am disposed to adopt the
notions of those who may be considered as forming an
intermediate class ; who, though not blind to the fol
lies, are yet willing to acknowledge the virtues, both
of past ages, and of the present. And surely, in every
age, and in every man, there is something to praise,
as well as something to blame.
When I survey the philosophy of the present age, I
find much matter of applause and admiration. Ma
thematics, Natural Philosophy, and Natural History,
ia all their branches, have risen to a pitch of perfection,
that does signal honour to human capacity, and far sur-
INTRODUCTION. 9
passes what the most sanguine projectors of former times
had any reason to took for : and the paths to further im
provement in those sciences are so clearly marked out, that
nothing but honesty and attention seems requisite to en~
sure the success of future ad venturers. Moral Philosophy
and Logic have not been so fortunate. Yet, even here, we
have happily got rid of much pedantry and jargon ; our
systems have more the appearance of liberal senti
ments, good taste, and correct composition, than those
ef the schoolmen ; we disclaim (at least in words) all-
attachment to hypothesis and party ; profess to study
men and things, as well as books and words ; and as
sert, with the utmost vehemence of protestation, our
love o truth, of candour, and of sound philosophy,
Bat let us net be deceived by appearances. Neither
Moral Philosophy, nor the kindred sciences of Logic
and Criticism, are at present upon the most desjrable
footing. The rage of paradox and system has tro.n~
formed them (although of all sciences these ought to
be the simplest and the clearest) into a mass of confu
sion, darkness, and absurdity. One kind of jargon is
laid aside ; but another has been adopted, more fashi
onable indeed, but not less frivolous. Hypothesis^
though verbally disclaimed, is really adhered to with
as much obstinacy as ever. Words have been defined,
but their meaning still remains indefinite. Appeab
have been made to experience ; but with such misre
presentation of fact, and in such equivocal language, as
plainly shew the authors to have been more concerned
for their theory, than for the truth. All sciences, and
especially Moral Philosophy, ought to regulate human
practice : practice is regulated by principles, and all
principles suppose conviction : yet the aim of our most
celebrated moral systems is, to divest the mind of every
principle, and of all conviction ; and, consequently, to
disqualify man for action, and to render him as useless,
and as wretched, as possible. In a word, SCEPTICISM
is now the profession of every fashionable inquirer intc
A 2
1C IKTRODUCTION.
human nature ; a scepticism which is not confined ta
points of mere speculation, but has been extended to
practical truths of the highest importance, even to the
principles of morality and religion. Proofs of all these
assertions will appear in the seqrtel.
I said that my prejudices are all in favour of truth
and virtue. To avow any s.ort of prejudice, m^y per
haps startle some readers. If it should, 1 must here
intreat all such to pause a moment, and ask of their
own hearts these simple questions : Are virtue and
truth useful to mankind ? Are they matters of in
difference ? Or are they pernicious ? If any one finds
himself disposed to think them pernicious, or matters
of indifference, I would advise him to lay my book
aside ; for it does not contain one sentiment in which
he can be interested ; nor one expression with which
he can be pleased. But he who believes that virtue
and truth are of the highest importance, that in them
is laid the foundation of human happinebs, and that on
them depends the very existence of human society, and
of human creatures, that person and I are of the
same mind ; I have no prejudices that he would wish
me not to have : he may proceed ; and I hope he will
proceed with pleasure, and encourage, by his approba
tion, this honest attempt to vindicate truth and virtue ;
and to overturn that pretended philosophy which sup
poses, or which may lead us to suppose, every dictate
of conscience, every impulse of understanding, ancle-
very information of sense, questionable and ambiguous.
This sceptical philosophy (as it is called) seems to
me to be dangerous, not because it is ingenious, but
because it is subtle and obscure. Were it rightly un
derstood, no confutation would be necessary ; for it
does in fact, confute itself, as I hope to demonstrate..
But many, to my certain knowledge, have read it, and
admitted its tenets, who do not understand the grounds
of them ; and many more, swayed by the fashion of the
times, have greedily adopted its conclusions, without
any knowledge of the premises, or any concern about
INTRODUCTION. It
them. An attempt therefore to expose this pretended^
philosophy to public view, in its proper colours, will
net, I hope, be censured as impertinent by any whose
opinion I value : if it should, I shall be satisfied with
the approbation of my own conscience, which will ne
ver reproach me for intending, to do good.
J am sorry, that in the course of this inquiry, it will
not always be in my power to speak of some celebrated
names with that deference, to whkh superior talents^
and superior virtue, are always entitled. Every friend
to civil and religious liberty, every lover of mankind,
every admirer of sincerity and simple manners, every
heart that warms at the recollection of distinguished
virtue, must consider LOCKE as one of the most amiable^
and most illustrious men, that ever our nation pro
duced. Such he is, such he will ever be,, in my esti
mation* The parts of his philosophy to which truth
obliges me to object, are but few, and,- compared with
the extent and importance of his other writings, ex
tremely inconsiderable. I object to them, because I
think them erroneous and dangerous ; and I am con*
vinced, that their author, if he had lived to see the in
ferences that have been drawn from them, would have
been the first to declare them absurd, and would have
expunged them from his works with indignation -
BERKELEY was equally amiable in his life, and equally
a friend to truth and virtue. In elegance of composition
he was perhaps superior. I admire his virtues : I c?,n
never sufficiently applaud his zeal in the cause of reli
gion : but some of his reasonings on the subject of hu
man nature I cannot admit, without renouncing my
claim to rationally There is a writer now alive, of
whose philosophy I have much to say. By his -philo
sophy, I mean the sentiments he has published in a
book called, A Treatise of Human Nature^ in three
volumes, printed in the year 1739 ; the principal and
most dangerous doctrines of which he has since repub-
lished again, and again, under the title of, Essays Mo
ral aad Political, 13 c. Of his other works I say no-
A 3
12 INTRODUCTION.
thing ; nor have 1 at present any concern with them.
V r irgil is said to have been a bad prose- writer ; Cicero
was certainly a bad poet : and this author, though not
much acquainted with human nature, and therefore not
well qualified to write a treatise upon it, may yet be
an excellent politician, financier, and historian. His
merit in these three respects is indeed generally allow
ed : and if my suffrage could add any thing to the lustre
of his reputation, 1 should here, with great sincerity
and pleasure, join my voice to that of the public, and
make such an encomium on the author-of the History
of England as would not offend any of his rational ad
mirers. But why is this author s character so replete
with inconsistency ! why should his principles and his
talents extort at once our esteem and detestation, our
applause and contempt ! That he, whose manners in
private life are said to be so agreeable to many of his
acquaintance, should yet in the public capacity of an
author, have given so much cause of just offence to all
the friends of virtue and mankind, is to me, matter of
astonishment and sorrow, as well as of indignation.
That he, who succeeds so well in describing the fates
of nations, should yet have failed so egregiously in ex
plaining the operations of the mind, is one of those in-
congruities in human genius, for which perhaps philo
sophy will never be able fully to account. That he,
who has so impartially stated the opposite pleas and
principles of our political factions, should yet have a-
dopted the most illiberal prejudices against natural and
revealed religion : that he, who on some occasions has
displayed even a profound erudition, should at other
times when intoxicated with a favourite theory, have
suffered affirmations to escape him, which would have
fixed the opprobrious name of Sciolist on a less cele
brated author : and finally, that a moral philosopher,
who seems to have exerted his utmost ingenuity in
searching after paradoxes, should yet happen to light
on none, but such as are all, without exception, on the
side of licentiousness and scepticism ;-~these are incon-
INTRODUCTION. 13
sistencies perhaps equally Inexplicable ; atledstthey
are such as I do not at present chuse to explain. And
yet, that this author is chargeable with all these incon
sistencies, will not, I think, be denied by any person of
sense and candour, who has read his writings with at
tention. His philosophy has done great harm, Its
admirers, J. know, are very numerous ; but 1 have not
as yet met with one person, who both admired and un
derstood it. We are prone to believe what we wish
to be true : and most of this author s philosophical
tenets are so well adapted to what I fear I may call the
fashionable notions of the times, that those who are
ambitious to conform to the latter, will hardly be dis
posed to examine scrupulously the evidence of the for
mer. Having made this declaration, which I do in
the spirit of an honest man, i must take the liberty to
treat this author with that plainness, which the cause
of truth, the interests of society, and my own con
science, require. The same candour that prompts me
to praise, will also oblige me to blame. The incon*
sistency is not in me, but in him. Had I done but half
as much as he, in labouring to subvert principles which
ought ever to be held sacred, I know not whether the
friends of truth would have granted me any indulgence :
I am sure they ought not. Let me be treated with the
lenity due to a good citizen, no longer than I act as be
comes one.
If it shall be acknowledged by the candid and intelli
gent reader, that I have in this book contributed some
thing to the establishment of old truths, I shall not be
much offended, though others should pretend to discover
that I have advanced nothing new. Indeed I would
not wish to say any thing on these subjects, that has
not often occurred to the common sense of mankind.
In Logic and Morals, we may have new treatises, and
new theories ; but we are not now to expect new r disco
veries. The principles of moral duty have long been un
derstood in these enlightened parts of the world ; and
mankind, in the time that is past, have had more tenth
14 INTRODUCTION.
under their consideration, than they will probably have
in the time to come. Yet he who makes these sciences
the study of his life, may perhaps collect particulars
concerning their evidence, which though known to a
few, are unknown to many ; may set some principles in
a more striking light than that in which they have been
formerly viewed ; may devise methods of confuting
ne v errors, and exposing new paradoxes ; and may hit
upon a more popular way of displaying what has hith
erto been exhibited in too dark and mysterious a form*
It is commonly allowed, that the science of human
nature is of all human sciences the most curious and
important. To know ourselves, is a precept which-
the wise in all ages have recommended, and which is
enjoined by the authority of revelation itself. Can
any thing be of more consequence to man, than to
know what is his duty, and how he may arrive at hap
piness ? It is from the examination of his own heart
that he receives the first intimations of the one, and
the only sure criterion of the other. What can be
more useful, more delightful, and more sublime, than
to contemplate the Deity ? It is in the works of nature,
particularly in the constitution of the human soul, that
we discern the first and most conspicuous traces of the -
Almighty ; for without some previous acquaintance
with our own moral nature, we could not have any cer- -
tain knowledge of His Destitute of the hope of im
mortality, and a future retribution, how contemptible,
how miserable is man ! And yet, did not our moral
feelings, in concert with what reason discovers of the
Deity, evidence the necessity of a future state, in vain
should we pretend to judge rationally of that revelation
by which life and immortality have been brought to
light.
How then is this science to be learned ? In what
manner are we to study human nature ? Doubtless by
examining our own hearts and feelings, and by attend
ing to the conduct of other men. But are not the
writings of philosophers useful towards the attainment
INTRODUCTION . IJ
of this science ? Most certainly they arc : for whatever
improves the sagacity of judgment, the sensibility of
moral perception, or the delicacy of taste ; whatever
renders our knowledge of moral and intellectual facts,
more extensive ; whatever impresses our minds with
more enlarged and more powerful sentiments of duty,
with more aifecting views of God and Providence, and
with greater energy of belief in the doctrines of natural
religion ; every thing of this sort either makes us
more thoroughly acquainted, or prepares us for becom-
ingmore thoroughly acquainted with our ownnature,and
with that of other beings, and with the relations which
they and we bear to one another. But I fear we shall
not be able to improve ourselves in any one of these
respects, by reading the modern systems of scepticism.
What account then are we to make of those systems
and their authors ? The following Dissertation is parti/
designed a* an answer to this question. But it has a
further view : which is, to examine the foundations of
this scepticism, and see whether these be consistent
with what ail mankind must acknowledge to be the
foundations of truth ; to inquire, whether the cultiva
tion of scepticism be salutary or pernicious to science and
mankind ; and whether it may not be possible to devise
certain criteria, by which the absurdity of its -conclu
sions may be detected, even by those who may not have
leisure or subtlety, or metaphysical knowledge, suf
ficient to qualify them for a logical confutation of all
its premises. If it be confessed, that the present a;;e
has some tendency to licentiousness, both in pri
and practice, and that the \*oiks oi sceptical writers
have some tendency to favour that licentiousness ; it
will also be confessed, that this design is neither absurd
nor unseasonable.
A celebrated writer * on human nature has observed,
that " if truth be at all within the reach of human ca-
" pacity, it is certain it mast lie very deep and ab-J
" struse :" and a little after he adds, " that he would
** esteem it a strong presumption against the philoso-
* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 3, 4.
1 6 INTRODUCTION.
* phy he is going to unfold, were it so very easy and
" obvious." I am so far from adopting this opinion,
that I declare, in regard to the few things I have to say
on human nature, that I should esteem it a very strong
presumption against them, if they were not easy and
obvious. Physical and mathematical truths are often
abstruse ; but facts and experiments relating to the hu
man mind, when expressed in proper words, ought to
be obvious to all. I find that those poets, historians,,
and novelists, who have given the most lively displays
of human nature, and who abound most in sentiments
easily comprehended, and readily admitted as true, are
the most entertaining, as well as the most useful.
How then should the philosophy of the human mind be
so difficult and obscure ? Indeed, if it be an author s
determinate purpose to advance paradoxes, some of
which are incredible, and others beyond comprehension;
if he be willing to avail himself ail he can of the na
tural ambiguity of language in supporting those para
doxes ; or if he enter upon inquiries too refined for hu
man understanding ; he must often be obscure, and of
ten unintelligible. But my views are very different,
I intend only to suggest some hints for guarding the
mind against error ; and these, I hope, will be found to
be deduced from principles which every man of com
mon capacity may examine by his daily experience.
It is true, that several subjects of intricate specu
lation are treated of in this book. But I have endea
voured, by constant appeals to fact and experience, by
illustrations and examples the most familiar I could
think of, and by a plainness and perspicuity of expres
sion which sometimes may appear too much affected,
to treat of them in a way, that I hope cannot fail to
render them intelligible, even to those who are not much
conversant in studies of this kind. Truth, like virtue,
to be loved, needs only to be seen. My principles re^
quire no disguise ; on the contrary, they will, if I
mistake not, be most easily admitted by those who best
understand them. And I am persuaded, that the seep-
INTRODUCTION. l^f
tical system would never have made such an alarming
progress, if it had been well understood. The ambi
guity of its language, and the intricacy and length of
some of its fundamental investigations, have unhappily
been too successful in producing that confusion of
thought, and indistinctness of apprehension, in the
minds both of authors and readers, which are so fa
vourable to error and sophistry.
Few men have ever engaged in controversy, religious,
political, or philosophical, without being in some de-
.gree chargeable with misconception of the adversary s
meaning. That I have never erred in this way, I dare
not affirm. But I am conscious of having done every
thing in my power to guard against it. The greater
part of these papers have lain by me for several years.
They have been repeatedly perused by some of the a-
cutest philosophers of the age, whom I have the honour
to call my friends, and to whose advice and assistance,
on this, as on other occasions, I am deeply indebted.
I have availed myself all I could of reading and con
versation ; and endeavoured, with all the candour I
am master of, to profit by every hint of improvement,
and to examine to the bottom every objection, that o-
thers have offered, or myself could devise. And may
I not be permitted to add, that every one of those who
have perused this essay, has advised the author to
publish it ; and that many of them have encouraged
him by this insinuation, to hkn the most flattering of
all others, That by so doing, he would probably be
of some service to the cause of truth, virtue, and man
kind ? In this hope he submits it to the public. And
it is this hope only that could have induced him to at
tempt polemical disquisition : a species of writing,
which, in his own judgment, is not the most creditable ;
which he knows, to his cost, is not the most pleasing ;
and of which he is well aware that it cannot fail to
draw upon him the resentment of a numerous, power
ful and fashionable party. But,
l8 INTRODUCTION.
Welcome for tlee, fair Virtue ! all tie past ;
For tbee, fair Virtue ! we/come even the last.
If these pages, which he hopes none will condemn
who have not read, shall throw any light on the first
principles of moral science ; if they shall suggest, to
the young and unwary, any cautions against that so
phistry, and licentiousness of principle, which too much
infect the conversations and compositions of the age ; if
they shall, in any measure, contribute to the satisfac
tion of any of the friends of truth and virtue ; his pur
pose will be completely answered : and he will, to the
end of his life, rejoice in the recollection of those pain
ful hours which he passed in the examination of this
most important controversy.
January, 1770.
AH
ESSAY
ON THE
NATURE AND IMMUTABILITY OF TRUTH,
IN OPPOSITION TO
SOPHISTRY AND SCEPTICISM.
T PURPOSE to treat this subject in the following
-*- manner.
FIRST, I shall endeavour to trace the several kinds
of Evidence and Reasoning up to their rst principles ;
with a vkw to ascertain the Standard of Truth, and
explain its immutability.
SECONDLY, I shall show that my sentiments on this
head, however inconsistent with the genius of scepti
cism, and with the practice and principles of sceptical
writers, are yet perfectly consistent with the genius of
true philosophy, and with the practice and principles of
those who are universally allowed to have been the
most successful in the investigation of truth : conclud
ing with some inferences or rules, by which the more
important fallacies of the sceptical philosophy may be
detected by every person of common sense, even though
lie should not possess acuteness or metaphysical know
ledge sufficient to qualify him for a logical confutation
of them.
THIRDLY, I shall answer some objections ; and make
some remarks, by way of Estimate of Scepticism and
sceptical writers.
I divide my discourse in this manner, chiefly with
a view to the reader s accommodation. An exact ar
rangement of parts is necessary to confer elegance on a
whole ; but I am more studious of utility than of ele
gance. And though my sentiments might have been
exhibited in a more systematic order, I am apt to think,
that the order in which they first occurred to me is the
most natural, and may be the most effectual for accom
plishing my purpose.
B
30 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I.
PART I.
OF THE STANDARD OF TRUTH.
rr PHE love of truth has ever been accounted a gocd
-* principle. Where it is known to prevail, we ex
pect to find integrity and steadiness ; a temper of mind
favourable to every virtue, and tending in an eminent
degree to the advancement of public utility. To have
no concern for the truth, to be false and fallacious, is
a character which no person who is not utterly aban
doned would chuse to bear ; it is a character from which
we expect nothing but levity and inconsistence. Truth
seems to be considered by all mankind as something
fixed, unchangeable^ and eternal ; it may therefore be
thought that to vindicate the permanency of truth is to
dispute with an adversary. And indeed, if these ques
tions were proposed in general terms, Is there such a
thing as truth ? Are truth and falsehood different and
opposite? Is truth permanent and eternal? few persons
would be hardy enough to answer in the negative.
Attempts, however, have been made, sometimes through
inadvertence, and sometimes (I fear) from design to
undermine the foundations of truth, and to render their
stability questionable ; and these attempts have been so
vigorously forwarded, and so often renewed, that they
now constitute a great part of what is called the philo
sophy of the human ?nind.
It is difficult, perhaps impossible, to give a logical
definition of Truth. But we shall endeavour to give
such a description of it, as may make others understand
what we mean by the word. The definitions of former
writers are not so clear, nor so accurate, as could be
wished. These therefore we shall overlook, without
seeking either to explain or to correct them ; and shall
satisfy ourselves with taking notice of some of tlie*
mental phenomena that attend the perception of truth.
This seems to bz the safest way of introducing tbs
subject.
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH.
CHAPTER I.
Of tie Perception of Truth in general.
ON hearing these propositions : I exist, Things e-
qual to one and the same thing are equal to one a-
nother, The sun rose to-day, There is a God, Ingra
titude ought to be blamed and punished, The three
angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles, &c.
_ 1 am conscious, that my mind readily admits and as-
qutesces in them. I say, that I beVieve them to be true ;
that is, I conceive them to express something confor
mable to the nature of things *. Of the contrary pro
positions I should say, that my mind does not acquiesce
in them, but disbelieves them, and conceives them to
express something not conformable to the nature of
things. My judgment in this case, I conceive to be
the same which 1 should form in regard to these pro
positions, if I were perfectly acquainted with ail nature,.
in all its parts, and in all its laws f.
If I be asked, what I mean by the nature of things,
I cannot otherwise explain myself, than by saying, that
there is in my mind something which induces me to
think, that every thing existing in nafttre, is determined
to exist, and to exist after a certain manner in conse
quence of established laws ; and that whatever is agree
able to thoss laws is agreeable to the nature of things,
because by those laws the nature of all things is deter
mined. Of those laws I do not pretend to know any
thing, except so far as they seem to be intimated to
me by my own feelings, and by the suggestions of my
own understanding. But these feelings and suggestions
are such, and affect me in such a manner, that I cannot
help receiving them, and trusting in them, and believing
OVTU ryiz a/.
Ariost. Metaph. lib. 2. cap. 1.
f This remark, when applied to truth in general, is subject
to certain limitations 5 for which see part 2. chap. 1. sect. 3,
B 2
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I,
that their intimations are not fallacious, but such as I
should approve if I were perfectly acquainted with
every thing in the universe^ and such as I may ap
prove, and admit of, and regulate my conduct by, with
out danger of any inconvenience.
It is not easy on this subject to avoid identical ex
pressions. I am not certain that I have been able to
avoid them. And perhaps I might have expressed my
meaning more shortly and more cleaily, by baying, that
i account That to be truth which the constitution of
our nature determines us to believe, and That to be
falsehood which the constitution of our nature deter
mines us to disbelieve. Believing and disbelieving are
.simple acts of the mind j I can neither define nor de
scribe them in words ; and therefore the reader must
judge of their nature from his own experience. We
often believe what we afterwards find to be false ; but
while belief continues, v/e think it true ; when we dis
cover its falsity, we believe i: no longer.
Hitherto we have used the word belief to denote that
act of the mind which attends the perception of truth
in general. But truths are of different kinds; some
are certain, others only probable : and we ought not to
call that act of the mind which attends the perception,
of certainty, and t that which attends the perception
of probability, by one and the same name. Some
have called the former conviction, and the latter assent*
All convictions are equally strong : but assent admits
of innumerable degrees, from moral certainty, which
is the highest degree, downward, through the several
stages of opinion, to that suspense of judgment which
is called doubt.
We may, without absurdity, speak of probable
truth as well as of certain truth. Whatever a ra
tional being is determined, by the constitution of his
nature, to admit as probable, may be called probable
truth ; the acknowledgment of it is as universal as ra
tional nature, and will be as permanent. But, in this
, we propose to confine ourselves chiefly to that
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY OF TRUTH. 23
kind of truth which may be called certain, which en
forces our conviction, and the belief of which, in a
sound mind, is not tinctured with any doubt or uncer
tainty.
The investigation and perception of truth is com
monly ascribed to our rational faculties : and these have
by some been reduced to two ; Reason, and Judgment ;
the former being supposed to be conversant about cer
tain truths, the latter chiefly about probabilities. But
certain truths are not all of the same kind ; some be
ing supported by one sort of evidence, and others by
another : different energies of the understanding must
therefore be exerted in perceiving them ; and these dif
ferent energies must be expressed by different names,
if we would speak of them distinctly and intelligibly.
The certainty of some truths, for instance, is perceiv
ed intuitively ; the certainty of others is perceived,
not intuitively, but in consequence of a proof. Most
of the propositions of Euclid are of the latter kind ;
the axioms of geometry are of the former. Now, if
that faculty by which we perceive truth in consequence
of a proof, be called Reasott, surely that power by
which we perceive self-evident truth, ought to be dis
tinguished by a different name. It is of little conse
quence what name we make choice of, provided that in
chusing it we depart not from the analogy of language ;
and that, in applying it, we avoid equivocation and
ambiguity *. Some philosophers of note f have given
the name of Common Sense to that faculty by which we
perceive self-evident truth ; and, as the term seems
proper enough, we shall adopt it. But in a subject of
this kind, there is great danger of our being imposed
upon by words ; we cannot therefore be too much up
on our guard against that species of illusion. We mean
* We might call the one Reason, and the other Reasoning ;
but the similiarity of the terms would frequently occasion both
obscurity in the sense, and harshness in the sound.
f Buffier, Dr Reid, &c.
24 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART iv
to draw some important inferences from this doctrine
of the distinction between Reason and Common Sense*
Now these words are not always used in the strict sig
nification we have here assigned them : let us there
fore take a view of all the similar senses in which they
are commonly used, and let us explain more particu
larly that sense in which we are to use them - ? and thus-
we shall take every method in our power to secure
ourselves against the impropriety of confounding our
notions by the use of ambiguous and indefinite lan
guage. These philological discussions are indeed
no part of philosophy ; but they are very necessary to
prepare us for it. " Qui ad interpretandam naturam
* accesserit," says Bacon, " verborum mixtam natu-
" ram, et juvarnenti et nocumenti imprimis partici-
* pern, distincte sciat *."
This distinction between Common Sense and Rea
son is no modern discovery f. The ancient geome-
* De ihterpretatione Naturae, sent. 9.
f The KotvovwfMtrwv of the Greek Stoics seems to mean
that benevolent affection which men owe to society and to
cue another. Some modern moralists have called it the Pub-
lie Sense. But the notion or idea we mean to express by
he term Common Sense is quite different.
The Sensus Communis of the Latins hath several significa
tions. 1. It denotes this Public Sense, or xwvcyow^oa-uy. See
Shaft shiny" 1 * Essay on the freedom of wit and humour, part 3.
sect* 1. Note. 2. It denotes that experience and knowledge of
life which is acquired by living in society. Thus Horace
seems to use it, lib. 1. satir. 3. lin. 66. And thus Quint ilian,
speaking of the advantages of a public education ; * Sensum.
" ipsum q.ui communis dicitur, ubi discet, cum se a congressu,
44 qui noa hominibus solum, sed mutis quoque animalibus
ki naturalis est, segregarh j" Kb* 1. cap. 2. 3. It seems to
signify that instinctive persuasion of truth which arises from,
intuitive evidence, and is the foundation of all reasoning :
" Corpus enim per se communis deliquat esse
* Sensus : quo nisi prima fides fundata valebit,
* Haud erit occultls de rebus quo referentes
w Confirioare snimi ^uicquam ratione queamus."
Lucretius, lib. 1* ver.
UHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 2
tricians were all acquainted with it. Aristotle treats
of self-evident principles in many parts of his works,
particularly in the fourth book of his Metaphysics, and
in the first book of his latter Analytics. He calls them
Axioms or Dignities, Principles and Common Senti
ments* ; and says of them, " That they are known by
" their own evidence f ; that except some first prin-
" ciples be taken for granted, there can be neither rea-
* son nor reasoning - y that it is impossible that every
rots K.tt\at,$ oc6$, ay ef&otvrts wtvvVFf oiov 9 ort vrov t,vot<yx.ot,(M
$ ^CiVtf*, V) OiTTO^OiYOCt, K} i<dv9t(,T6y UMGt, I tVXl Xj ^JJ I Veil.
Metaphys. lib. 3. cap. 2.
f Analytic, lib. 2. cap. 16. - Of these first principles,
a French Peripatetic, who wrote about the beginning of the
last century, expresses himself thus : " Ces principes portent
" le nom de cornmuns, non seulement parce qu ils servent a
" plusieurs sciences, mais aussi parce que P intelligence en est
* commune a tous. On les appelle aussi dignite<x,, et notions
** communes : a scavoir, dignitez, quasi comme dignes entre
** toutes les autres qu on y adiouste foy, a cause de la grande
" excellence de leur clarte et evidence j et notions com-
* mur.es, pour ce qu ils sont si connus, qu aussi tost que la
" signification des termes dont ils sont composez est enten-
" due, sans discourir ny argurnenter davantage dessus, chacun
** entend naturellement leur verite j si ce n est quelque he-
" bete prive de raison j lequel je revoye a Aristote, qui pro-
* nounce, que ceux qui doutent, qu il faut reverer les Dieux,
" ou aymer les parents, meritent d estre punis 5 et que ceux
" qui doutent que la nege est blanche out besom de sons ; et
" a Averroes, qui dit, que ceux qui ne scauroient distinguer
* ce qui est connu par soy d avec ce qui ne Pest pas, sont in-
J< capables de philosopher j et que ne pouvoir connoistre ces
** principes, procede de quelque defaut de nature, ou de pen
** d exercice, ou d r une mauvaise accoustumance enracinee."
Corps de ioute la Philosophic de Theophraste Bouju, p. 19
Aristot* Mc taphys* lib. 2. cap. 6.
26 ASF ESSAY aN TRUTH. PART I.
** truth should admit of proof, otherwise proof would
" extend in infinitum, which is incompatable with its
" nature * ; and that if ever men attempt to prove a
" first principle, it is because they are ignorant of the
" nature of proof f."
The word Reason is used in several different senses.
I. It is used to signify that quality of human nature
which distinguishes man from the inferior animals.
Man is called a reasonable being, and the brutes are
said to be irrational. But the faculty of reason, tak
ing the word in a strict sense, is perhaps not more
characteristical of the nature of man, than his moral
faculty, or his imagination, or his power of artificial
language, or his risibility. Reason, in this acceptation
seems to be a general name for all the intellectual pow
ers, as distinguished from the sensitive part of our con
stitution. 2. Every thing that is called truth is said
to be perceived by reason : by reason, we are said to
perceive, that the three angles of a triangle are equal
to two right angles ; and we are also said to perceive,
by reason, that it is impossible for the same thing to
be, and not to be. But these truths are of different
kinds ; and therefore the energies of understanding, to
which they are referred^ ought to be called by different
names. 3. The power of invention is sometimes as
cribed to resson. LOCKE tells us, that it is reason
\vhich discovers and arranges the several intermedi
ate proofs in an argument ; an office, which accord
ing to the common use of words, is to be refer
red not to reason, but to imagination. 4. Reason, as
Bristol. Metaphys. lib. 4. cap. 4
TO {MI yiva<rx,toy rwui u *Tliv -srociiv , t TIVM ov on.
ID. Ibid.
I cite these authorities, that I may not be supposed to affect
either an uncommon doctrine, or uncommon moc e: of ex
pression.
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 27
implying a faculty not marked by any other name, 19
used by those who are most accurate in distinguishing,
to signify that power of the human mind by which we
draw inferences, or by which we are convinced, that a
relation belongs to two ideas, on account of our having
found, that these ideas bear certain relations to other
ideas. In a word, it is that faculty which enables us,
from relations or ideas that are known, to investigate
such as are unknown j and without which we never
could proceed in the discovery of truth a single step
beyond first principles or intuitive axioms. And it is
in this last sense we are to use the word Reason in the
course of this inquiry.
The term Common Sense has also several different sig
nifications. I. Sometimes it seems to be synonymous
with prudence. Thus we say, that a man has a large
stock of common sense, who is quick in perceiving re
mote consequences, and thence instantaneously deter*.
mines concerning the propriety of present conduct. 2.
Common Sense, in certain instances,, seemeth to be
confounded with some of the powers of taste. We
often meet with persons of great sagacity in most of
the ordinary affairs of life, and very capable of accu
rate reasoning* who yet, without any bad intention,
commit the most egregious blunders in regard to deco
rum ; both saying and doing what is offensive to their
company, and inconsistent with their own character :
and this we are apt to impute to a defect in common
sense.. But it seems rather to be owing to a defect in
that kind of sensibility, or sympathy, by which we
suppose ourselves in the situations of other?, adopt
their sentiments, and in a manner perceive their very
thoughts ; and which is indeed the foundation of good
breeding *. It is by this secret, and sudden, and (to
those who are unacquainted with it) inexplicable, com
munication of feelings, that a man is enabled to avoid
what would appear incongruous or offensive. Thej
* See Smith s Theory of moral sentiments. sect..l.
2 AN ESSAY ON TRUTtf. PART I.
who are prompted by inclination, or obliged by neces
sity, to study the art of recommending themselves to
others, acquire a wonderful facility in perceiving and
avoiding all possible ways of giving offence : which is
a proof, that this kind of sensibility may be much im
proved by habit : although there are, no- doubt, in
respect of this, as well as of all other modifica
tions of perception, original and constitutional differ
ences in the frame of different minds. 3. Seme men
are distinguished by an uncommon acutecess in disco
vering the characters of others : they seem to read the
soul in the countenance, and with a single glance to pe
netrate the deepest recesses of the heart. In their pre
sence, the hypocrite is detected, notwithstanding his
specious outside ; the gay effrontery of the coxcomb
cannot conceal his insignificance ; and the man of merit
appears conspicuous under all the disguises of an unas
suming and ungainly modesty. This talent is some
times called Common S<;nse y but very improperly. It
is far from being common ; it is even exceedingly rare:
it is to be found in men who are not remarkable for
any other mental excellence : and we often see those
who in other respects are j adiciou? enough, quite des-
titute of it. 4. Neither ought every common opinion
to be referred to common sense. Modes in dress, re
ligion, and conversation, however absurd in themselves,
may suit the notions or ihs taste of a particular peo
ple : but none of us will say, that it is agreeable to
common sense, to worship more gods than one ; to be
lieve that one and the same body may be in ten thou
sand different places at the sajne time * ; to like a face
the better because it is painted, or to dislike a person
because he does not lisp in his pronunciation. Lastly,.
The term Common Sense hath in modern times been
used by philosophers, both French and British, to sig
nify that power of the mind which perceives truth>
or commands belief, not by progressive argumentation^
*" Transubstantiation.
-CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 2$
but by an instantaneous, instinctive, arid irresistible im
pulse ; derived neither from education nor from habit,
but from nature ; acting independently on our will,
whenever its object is presented, according to an esta
blished law, and therefore not improperly called
Sense f ; and acting in a similar mariner upon all, or at
least upon a great majority of mankind, and therefore
properly called Common Sense. It is in this significa
tion that the term Common Sense is used in the present
inquiry.
That there is a real and essential difference between
these two faculties : that common sense cannot be ac
counted for, by being called the perfection of reason,
nor reason, by being resolved into common sense, will
perhaps appear from the following remarks, i. We
are conscious, from internal feeling, that the energy of
understanding which perceives intuitive truth, is differ
ent from that other energy which unites a conclusion
with a first principle, by a gradual chain of interme
diate relations. We believe the truth of an investiga
ted conclusion, because we can assign a reason for our
belief; we believe an intuitive principle, without being
able to assign any other reason for our belief than this,
that the law of our nature determines us to believe it ;
even as the law of our nature determines us to see a co
lour when presented to our open eyes at noon-day. 2.
We cannot discern any necessary connection between
reason and common sense : they are indeed generally
connected ; but we can conceive a being endued with
the one who is destitute of the other. Nay, we often
find, that this is in fact the case. In dreams, we some
times reason without common sense. Through a de
fect of common sense, we adopt absurd principles ; but
suppobing our principles true, our reasoning is often
unexceptionable. The same thing may be observed in
certain kinds of madness. A man who believes him
self made of glass, shall yet reason very justly concern-
.f For the circumstances that characterise a Stnse y see Pr
Gerard s F.ssayon Taste, part 3. sei;t. 1. Note.
3 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I.
ing the means of preserving his supposed brittleness
from flaws and fractures. Nay, what is still more to
the purpose, we sometimes meet with persons, whom
it would be injurious to charge with insanity, who,
though defective in common sense, have yet, by con
versing much with polemical writers, improved their
reasoning faculty to such a degree, as to puzzle and put
to silence those who are greatly .their superiors in every
other mental endowment. 3. This leads us to remark
a third difference between these two faculties ; namely,
that the one is more in our power than the other.
There are few faculties, either of our mind or body,
more improveable by culture, than that of reasoning ;
whereas common sense, like other instincts, arrives at
maturity with almost no care of ours. To teach the
art of reasoning, or rather of wrangling, is easy j but
it is impossible to teach common sense to one who
wants it. You may make him remember a set of first
principles, and say that he believes them, even as you
may teach one born blind to speak intelligibly of co
lours and light ; but neither to the one, nor to the o-
ther, can you by any means communicate the peculiar
feeling which accompanies the operation of that facul
ty which nature has denied him. A man defective in
common sense may acquire learning ; he may even pos
sess genius to a certain degree : but the defect of na
ture he never can supply : a peculiar modification of
scepticism, or credulity, or levity, will to the end of
his life distinguish him from other men. It would e-
vidence a deplorable degree of irrationality, if one could
not perceive the truth of a geometrical axiom ; such
instances are uncommon : but the number of self-evi
dent principles cognisable by man is very great, and
more vigour of mind may be necessary to the percep
tion of some, than to that of others. In this respect,
therefore, there may be great diversities in the mea
sure of common sense which different men enjoy.
Further, of two men, one of whom, though he acknow
ledges the truth of a first principle, is but little affected
i
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. O "-
with it, and is easily induced to become sceptical
in regard to it ; while the other has a vivid percep
tion of its truth, is deeply affected with it, and firm-
ly trusts to his own feelings without doubt or he
sitation ; I should not scruple to say, that the latter
possesses the greater share of common sense : and
jn this respect too, I presume the minds of different
men will be found to be very different. These di
versities are, I think, to be referred, for the most
part, to the original constitution of the mind, which
it is not in the power of education to alter. I ac
knowledge, however, that common sense, like other
instincts, may languish for want of exercise ; as in
the case of a person who, blinded by a false religion,
has been all his days accustomed to distrust his own
sentiments, and to receive his creed from the mouth
of a priest. I acknowledge too, that freedom of
inquiry does generally produce a juster, as well as
more liberal, turn of thinking, than can ever be ex
pected, while men account it damnable even to
think differently from the established mode. But
from this we can only infer, that common sense is
improveable to a certain degree. Or perhaps this
only proves, that the dictates of common sense are
sometimes overruled, and rendered ineffectual, by the
influence of sophistry and superstition operating u-
pon a weak and diffident temper. 4. It deserves al
so to be remarked, that a distinction extremely si
milar to the present is acknowledged by the vulgar,
who speak of mother-wit as something different
from the deductions of reason, and the refinements
of science. When puzzled with argument, they
have recourse to their common sense, and acquiesce
in it so steadily, as often to render all the arts of the
logician ineffectual. * I am confuted, but not con
vinced, is an apology sometimes offered, when one
has nothing to oppose to the arguments of the anta
gonist^ but the original undisguised feelings of his
mind. This apology is indeed very inconsist-
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART T.
t?nt with the dignity of philosophic pride ;. which,
taking for granted that nothing exceeds the limits of
human capacity, professes to confute whatever it
cannot believe, and, which is still more difficult, to
believe whatever it cannot confute : but this apolo
gy may be perfectly consistent with sincerity and
candor; and with that principle of which Pope says,
that * though no science, it is fairly worth the sc-
" ven."
Thus far we have endeavoured to distinguish and
ascertain the separate provinces of Reason and Com
mon Sense. Their connection and mutual depen
dence, and the extent of their respective jurisdic
tions, we now proceed more particularly to investi
gate. I ought perhaps to make an apology for
these, and some other metaphorical expressions.
And indeed it were to be wished, that in all mat
ters of science, they could be kid aside ; for the in
discreet use of metaphor has done great harm, by
leading philosophers to mistake verbal analogies for
real ones ; and often, too, by giving plausibility to
nonesense, as well as by disguising and perplexing
very plain doctrines with an affected pomp of high-
sounding words and gaudy images. But in the phi
losophy of the human mind, it is impossible to keep
clear of metaphor ; because we cannot speak intelli
gibly of immaterial things, without continual allu
sions to matter, and its qualities. All I need to say
further on this head is, that I mean not by these
metaphors to impose upon the reader ; and that I
shall do my utmost to prevent their imposing upon
myself.
It is strange to observe, with what reluctance
some people acknowledge the power of instinct.
That man is governed by reason, and the brutes by
instinct, is a favourite topic with certain philoso
phers ; who, like other froward children, spurn the
hand that leads them ; and desire, above all things,
to be left at their own .disposal. Were this boast
CHAP. I. AN ESS,\Y ON TRUTH. 3 J
founded in truth, it might be supposed to mean lit
tle more, than that man is governed by himself, and
(he brutes by their Maker*. But, luckily for mar,
it is not founded in truth, but in ignorance, inatten
tion, arid self-conceit. Our instincts, as well as our
rational powers, are far superior, both in number
and dignity,- to those which the brutes enjoy ; and it
were well for us, on many occasions, if we laid our
systems aside, and were more attentive in observing
these impulses of nature in which reason has no
part. Far be it from me to speak with disrespect
of any of the gifts of God ; every work of his is
good ; but the best things,, when abused, may be
come pernicious. Reason is a noble faculty, and,
when kept within its proper sphere, and applied to
useful purposes, proves a mean of exalting hums".
creatures almost to the rank of superior beings. Bu:
this faculty has been much perverted, often to vil-%
and often to insignificant purposes 5 sometimes chain
ed like a slave or malefactor, and sometimes soarip.c
in forbidden and unknown regions. No wonder,,
then, if it has been frequently made the instrument
of seducing and bewildering mankind, and of render
ing philosophy contemptible.
In the science of body, glorious discoveries have
been made by a right use of reason. When men are
once satisfied to take things as they find them ; when
they believe Nature upon her bare declaration, with
out suspecting her of any design to impose udon
them ; when their utmost ambition is to be. her ser
vants and humble interpreters ; then, and net till
then, will philosophy prosper. But of t":ose who
have applied themselves to the science of Human
Nature, it may truly be said, (of many, of them at
leas^), that too much reasoning hath made them
mad. Nature speaks to us by our external, as well
* And Reason raise o er Instinct as you can,
In this tis God directs, in that tis man.
. Pofe*s Essay on Man, Ep. S, ver. 3,
C 2
34 A ^ ES3AY Otf TRUTH. FRAT I.
as by our internal, senses ; it is strange, that we
should believe her in the one case, and not in the o-
ther ; it is most strange, that supposing her falla
cious, we should think ourselves capable of detec
ting the cheat. Common sense tells me, that the
ground on which I* stand is hard, material, and solid,
and has a real, separate, independent existence.
BERKELEY and HUME tell me, that I am imposed
upon in this mntter : for that the ground under my
feet is really an idea in my mind ; that its very es
sence consists in being perceived ; and that the same
instant it ceases to be perceived, it must also cease
to exist : in a word, that to be, and to be perceived,
\vhen predicated of the ground, the sun, the starry
heavens, or any corporeal object, signify precisely
the same thing. Now if my common sense be mis
taken, who shall ascertain and correct the mistake ?
Our reason, it is said. Are then the inferences of
reason in this instance clearer, and more decisive,
than the dictates of common sense ? By no means. I
^till trust to my common sense as before ; and I feel
that I must do so. But supposing the inferences of
the one faculty as clear and decisive as the dictates
of the other, yet who will assure me, that my rea
son is less liable to mistake than my common sense?
And if reason be mistaken, what shall we say ? Is
this mistake to be rectified by a second reasoning*, ss
liable to mistake as the first ? In a word, we must
deny the distinction between truth and falsehood, a-
dopt universal scepticism, and wander without end
from one maze of error and uncertainty to another ;
a state of mind so miserable, that Milton makes it
one of the torments of the damned ; or else we
must suppose, that one of these faculties is naturally
of higher authority than the other ; and that either
reason ought to submit to common sense, or com
mon sense to reason, whenever a variance happens
between them.
It has been said, that every inquiry in philosophy
H. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, 35
to begin with doubt ; that nothing is to be
taken for granted, and nothing believed, without
proof. If this be admitted, it must also be admitted,
that reason is the ultimate judge of truth, to which
common sense must continually act in subordination.
But this I cannot admit ; because I am able to prove
the contrary by the most incontestable evidence
I am able to. prove, that "except we believe many
" things without proof, we never can believe any
" thing at all ; for that all sound reasoning must
" ultimately rest on the principles of common sense ;
" that is, on principles intuitively certain, or intur-
** tively probable ; and, consequently, that common
" sense is the ultimate judge of truth, to which rea-
4 * son must continually act in subordination." This
I shall prove by a fair induction of particulars.
CHAP. II.
All reasoning terminates in Jlrst principles. A!!
evidence ultimately intuitive. Common Sense tie
Standard of Truth to Man.
7 N this induction, we cannot comprehend all sorts
* of evidence, and modes of reasoning ; but we shall
endeavour to investigate the origin of those * which
* That tlie induction here given is sufficiently compre
hensive, will appear from the following analysis.
All the objects of the human understanding may be re
duced to two classes, viz. Abstract Ideas, z&& Things
really existing.
Of Abstract Ideas, and their Relations, all our knowledge
is certain, being founded on MATHEMATICAL EVI
DENCE () ; which comprehends, 1. Intuitive Evidence,
and, 2. The Evidence of strict demonstration.
We judge of Things really existing ; either, 1, From
our cwn experience; or, 2. From the experience of other
men.
(&) Se&ioir i,
36 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I.
are the most important, and of the most extensive
influence in science, and common life ; beginning with
the simplest and clearest, and advancing gradually
to those which are more complicated, or less per
spicuous.
SECTION T.
Of Mathematical Reasoning.
T^HE evidence that takes place in pure mathema-
* tics, produces the highest assurance and certain
ty in the mind of him who attends to, and under
stands it ; for no principles are admitted into this
science, but such as are either self-evident, or sus
ceptible of demonstration. Should a man refuse to
believe a demonstrated conclusion, the world would
impute his obstinacy, either to want of understand
ing, or to want of honesty : for every person of un
derstanding feels, that by mathematical demonstra
tion he must be convinced whether he will or not.
There are two kinds of mathematical demonstration.
1. Judging of Real Existences from our own experience,
we attain either Certainty or Probability. Our knowledge
is certain when supported by the evidence, 1. Of SENSE
EXTERNAL () and INTERNAL (r) : 2. Of MEMORY (//) j
and, 3. Of LEGITIMATE INFERENCES OF THE CAUSE
FROM THE EFFECT (*). Our knowledge \sprobable,
when from facts already experienced, we argue, 1. to facts
OF THE SAME KIND (/*) not experienced 5 and, 2. to facts
OF A SIMILAR KIND (^) not experienced. This knowledge,
though called probable, often rises to moral certainty,
2. Judging of Real Existences from the experience of
other men, we have the EVIDENCE OF THEIR TESTIMO
NY (). ^ ne m de of understanding produced by that
evidence is properly called Faith ; and this faith sometimes
amounts to probable opinion, and sometimes rises even to
absolute certainty.
(I) SecS. 1. (i) Se&. 3. (</) Sect. 4- (<) Se&. 5.
, /) Se. 6. U) Sea. 7. (A) Sect. 8,
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 37
The first is called direct ; and takes place, when a
conclusion is inferred from premises that render it
necessarily true : and this perhaps is a more perfect,
or at least a simpler, kind of proof, than the other ;
but both are equally convincing. The other kind is
called in direct, apagogica!, mducensadabsurdum ; and
takes place when, by supposing a proposition false,
we are led into an absurdity, which there is no other
way to avoid, than by supposing the proposition
true. In this manner it is proved, that the proposition
is not, and cannot be, false ; in other words, that it
is a certain truth. Every step in a mathematical
proof either is self-evident, or must have been for
merly demonstrated ; and every demonstration does
finally resolve itself into intuitive or self-evident
principles, which it is impossible to prove, and e-
qually impossible to disbelieve. These first princi
ples constitute the foundation of mathematics : if you
disprove them, you overturn the whole science ; if
you refuse to believe them, you cannot, consistently
with such refusal, acquiesce in any mathematical
truth whatsoever. But you may as well attempt to
blow out the sun, as to disprove these principles :
and if you say, that you do not believe them *, you
will be charged either with falsehood or with folly ;
you may as well hold your hand in the fire, and say
that you feel no pain. By the law of our nature,
we must fed in the one case, and believe in the o-
ther j even as, by the same law, we must adhere to
the earthp and cannot fall headlong to the clouds.
* Si quelque opimastre les nie de la voix, on ne Pen
scauriot empescher j mais cela ne luy est pas permis inter-
ieurement en sen esprit, parce que sa lumiere naturelle y
repugne, qui est la partie ou se rapporte la demonstration
et le syllogisme, et non aux paroles externes. Au moyen
de quoy s ll se trouve quelqu un qui ne les puisse entendre,
cettuy-la est incapable de discipline.
Dialectique de Boujou, Ih. 3. ch. 3,
3^ AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. ?AR ; T r,
But who will pretend to prove a mathematical
axiom, That a whole is greater than a part, or,.
That things equal to one and the same thing are e-
qual to one another ? Every proof must be clearer
and more evident than the thing to be proved. Can
you then assume any more evidei^t principle, from,.
which the truth of these axioms may be consequen
tially inferred ? It is impossible ; because they are
already as evident as any tiling can be *. You may-
bring the matter to the test of the senses, by laying,
a few halfpence and farthings upon the table ; but
* Different opinions have prevailed concerning the na
ture of these geometrical axioms. Some suppose, that an ^
axiom is not self-evident, except it imply an identical pro
position j that therefore this axiom, It is impossible fir
the same thing, at the same time, to be and not to- be, is the
only axiom that can properly be called intuitive j and that"
all those other propositions commonly called axioms, ought
to be demonstrated by being resolved into this fundamen
tal axiom. But if this cculd be done, which I fear is not
possible, mathematical truth would not be one whit more
certain than it is. Those other axioms produce absolute
certainty, and produce it immediately, without any pro
cess of thought or reasoning that we can discover. And
if the truth of a proposition be clearly and certainly per
ceived by all men without proof, and if no proof -whatever
could make it more clear or more certain, it seems captious,
not to allow that proposition the name of Intuitive Jixiont.
Others suppose, that though the demonstration of ma
thematical axioms is not absolutely necessary, yet that these
axioms are susceptible of demonstration, and ought to be
temonstrated to those who require it. Dr Barrow is of
this opinion. So is Apollonius ; who, agreeably to it, has
attempted a demonstration of this axiom, That things e-
qual to one and the same thing are equal to one another.
Eut whatever account we make of these opinions, they af
fect not our doctrine. However far the demonstration of
axioms may b e- carried, it must at last terminate in one
principle of common sense, if not in many ^ which principle
we must believe without proof whether we will or no.
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 39
the evidence of sense is not more unquestionable,
than that of abstract intuitive truth ; and therefore
the former evidence, though to one ignorant of the
meaning of the terms, it might serve to explain and
illustrate the latter, can never prove it. But not to
rest any tiling on - the signification we affix to the
xvord proof i and to remove every possibility of
doubt as to this matter ; let us suppose, that the
evidence of external sense is more unquestionable
than that of abstract intuitive truth, and that every
intuitive principle in mathematics may thus be
brought to the test of sense ; and if we cannot call
the evidence of sense a proof, let us call it a confir
mation of the abstract principle : yet what do we
gain by this method of illustration ? We only dis
cover, that the evidence of abstract intuitive truth is
resolvable into, or may be illustrated by, the evidence
of sense. And it will be seen in the next section,
that we believe in the evidence of external sense, not
because we can prove it to be true, but because the
law of our nature determines us to believe in it
without proof. So that in whatever way we view
this subject, the point we mean to illustrate appears
certain, namely, " That all mathematical truth is.
" founded in certain first principles, which common
" sense or instinct compels us to believe without
" proof, whether we will or not."
Nor would the foundation of mathematics be in the
least degree more stable, if these axioms did admit of
proof, or were all resolvable into one primary axiom
expressed by an identical proposition. As the case
now stands, we are absolutely certain of their truth ;
and absolute certainty is all that demonstration can
produce. We are convinced by a proof, because our
constitution is such, that we must be convinced by
it : and we believe a self-evident axiom, because our
constitution is such that we must believe it. You
ask, why I believe what is self-evident. I may as
T ,\:ell ask, why you believe what is proved. Neither
40 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART T.
question admits of an answer ; or rather, to both
questions the answer is the same, namely, Because
I must believe it.
Whether o .ir belief in these cases be agreeable to
the eternal relations and iitnesses of things, and such
as we should entertain if we were perfectly acquaint
ed with all the laws of nature, is a question which
no person of a sound mind can have any scruple to
answer, with the fullest assurance, in the affirmative.
Certain it is, our constitution is so framed, that we
must believe to be trae, and conformable to universal"
nature, that which is intimated to us, as such, by the
original suggestions of our own understanding. If
these are fallacious, it is the Deity who makes them
so ; and therefore we can never rectify, or even de
tect, the fallacy. But we cannot even suppose them
fallacious, without violating our nature ; nor, if we
acknowledge a God, without the most absurd and most
audacious impiety ; for in this supposition it is implied
that we suppose the Deity a deceiver. Nor can we,
consistently with such a supposition, acknowledge
any distinction between truth and falsehood, or be
lieve that one inch is less than ten thousand miles,
or even that we ourselves exist.
SECT. II.
Of the Evidence of External Sense.
A NOTHER class of truths producing conviction, and
* * absolute certainty, are those which depend up
on the evidence of the external senses; Hearing, See
ing, Touching, Tasting, and Smelling, On this evidence
is founded all our knowledge of external or material
things ; and therefore all conclusions in Natural Philo~
sophy and all those prudential considerations which
regard the preservation of our body, as it is liable to be
affected by the sensible qualities of matter, must fi
nally be resolved into this principle, That things are
as our senses represent them. When I touch a
stone,. I am conscious of a certain sensation, which L
CHAP. If. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 41
eall a sensation of hardness. But this sensation is
not hardness itself, nor any thing like hardness : it
is nothing more than a sensation or feeling in my
mind ; accompanied, however, with an irresistable
belief, that this sensation is excited by the applica
tion of an external and hard substance to some part
of my body. This belief as certainly accompanies
the sensation, ^s the sensation accompanies the appli
cation of the stone to my organ of sense. I believe,
with as much assurance, and as unavoidably, that
the external thing exists, and is hard, as I believe
that I receive, and am conscious of, the sensation of
hardness ; or, to speak more strictly, the sensation
which by experience I know to be the sign of my
touching a hard body*. Now 7 , why do 1 believe
that this sensation is a real sensation, and really felt
by me ? Because my constitution is such that I must
believe so. And why do I believe, in consequence
of my receiving this sensation, that I touch an exter
nal object, really existing, material, and hard ? The
answer is the same : the matter is incapable of proof:
I believe, because I must believe. Can I avoid be
lieving, that I really am conscious of receiving this
sensation ? No. Can I avoid believing, that the ex
ternal thing exists, and has a certain quality, which
fits it, on being applied to my hand, to excite a cer
tain feeling or sensation in my mind ? No ; I must
believe this, whether T will or not. Nor could I
divest myself of this belief, though my life and fu
ture happiness depended on the consequence. To
believe our senses, therefore, is according to the law
of our nature ; and we are prompted to this belief
by instinct, or common sense. I am as certain, that -
at present I am in a house, and not in the open air ;
that I see by the light of the sun, and not by the
light of a candle j that I feel the ground hard under
* See Dr Reid s Inquiry into the human mind, chap. 5,
sect. 3.,
4* AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I*
my feet; and that I lean against a real material
table, as I can be of the truth of any geometrical
axiom, or of any demonstrated conclusion ; nay, I am
as certain of all this as of my own existence. But I
cannot prove by argument, that there is such a thing
as matter in the world, or even that I myself exist :
and yet I know as assuredly, that I do exist, and that
there is a real material sun, and a real material
world, with mountains, trees, houses, and animals,
existing separately, and independently on me and my
faculties ; I say, I know all this with as much as
surance of conviction, as the most irrefragable de
monstration could produce. Is it unreasonable to
believe in these cases without proof ? Then, I affirm,
it is equally unreasonable to believe in any case Moita
proof. Our belief in either case. is unavoidable, and
according to the law of our nature j and if it be un
reasonable to think, according to the law of our na
ture, it must be equally unreasonable to adhere to
the earth, to be nourished with food, or to die when
the head is separated from the body. It is indeed
easy to affirm any thing, provided a man can recon
cile himself to hypocrisy and falsehood. A man may
affirm, that he sees with the soles of his feet, that he
believes there is no material world, that he doubts of
his own existence. He may as well say, that he be
lieves one and two to be equal to six, a part to be great
er than a whole, a circle to be a triangle ; and that it
may be possible for the same thing, at_the same time,
to be and not to be.
But it is said, that our senses do often impose
iipon us ; and that by means of reason we are enab
led to detect the imposture, and to judge rightly even
where our senses give us wrong information ; that
therefore our belief in the evidence of sense is not in
stinctive or intuitive, but such as may be either con
futed or confirmed by reasoning. We shall acknow
ledge that our senses do often impose upon us: but
n little attention will convince us, that reason, though
it may be employed in correcting the present falla-
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 43
clous sensation, by referring it to a former sensation,
received by us, or by other men, is not the ultimate
judge in this matter ; for that all such reasoning is
resolvable into this principle of common sense, That
tilings are what our external senses represent them.
One instance will suffice at present for illustration of
this point*.
After having looked a moment at the sun, I see a
black, or perhaps a luminous, circle swimming in
the air, apparently at the distance of two or three feet
from my eyes. That I see such a circle, is certain ;
that I believe I see it, is certain ; that I believe its
appearance to be owing to some cause, is also cer
tain : thus far there can be no imposture, and there
is no supposition of any. Suppose me from this
appearance to conclude, that a real, solid, tangible or
visible round substance, of a black or yellow colour,
is actually swimming in the air before me ; in this I
should be mistaken. How then come I to know that
I am mistaken ? I may know it in several ways. i.
I stretch out my hand to the place where the circle
seems to be floating in the air ; and having felt no
thing, I am instantly convinced, that there is no tan
gible substance in that place. Is this conviction an
inference of reason ? No ; it is a conviction arising
from our innate propensity to believe, that things
are as our senses represent them. By this innate or
instinctive propensity I believe that what I touch
exists ; by the same propensity I believe, that where
I touch nothing, there nothing tangible does exist.
If in the present case I were suspicious of the vera
city of my senses, I should neither believe nor disbe
lieve. 2. I turn my eyes towards the opposite
quarter of the heavens ; and having still observed the
same ^circle floating before them, and krowfng by
experience, that the motion of bodies placed at a dis
tance from me does not follow or deperd on the mo
tion of my body, I conclude, that the appearance i&
* See .part 2. chatj. I. scc t. 3.
O
44 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I.
owing, not to a real, external corporeal object, but
to some disorder in my organ of sight. Here rea
soning is employed : but where does it terminate ?
It terminates in experience, which I have acquired
by means of my senses. But if I believed them fal
lacious, if I believed things to be otherwise than my
senses represent them, I should never acquire expe
rience at all. Or, 3. I apply, first to one man, then
to another, and then to a third, who all assure me,
that they perceive no such circle floating in the air,
and at the same time inform me of the true cause cf
the appearance. I believe their declaration, either
because I have had experience of their veracity, or
because I have an innate propensity to credit testi
mony. To gain experience implies a belief in the
evidence of sense, which reasoning cannot account
for ; and a propensity to credit testimony previous to
experience or reasoning, is equally unaccountable*.
So that, although we acknou ledged some of our
senses, in some instances, deceitful, our detection of
the deceit, whether by the evidence of our other sen
ses, or by a retrospect to our past experience, or by
our trusting to the testimony of other men, does still
imply, that we do and must believe our senses pre
viously to all reasoningf.
A human creature born with a propensity to dis
believe his senses, would be as useless and helpless as
if he wanted them. To his own preservation he
could contribute nothing ; and, after ages of being,
.would remain as destitute of knowledge and experi
ence, as when he began to be.
Sometimes we seem to distrust the evidence of
,our senses, when in reality we only doubt whether
we have that evidence. I may appeal to any man,
if he were thoroughly convinced that he had really,
when awake, seen and conversed with a ghost,
vvhether any reasoning would -convince him that it
* See sect. 8. of this chapter,
t See pait 2. chap. I. sect. 2.
CHAP. IT. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 45
was a delusion. Reasoning might lead him to sus*
pect that he had been dreaming, and therefore to
doubt whether or not he had the evidence of sense ;
bac if he were assured that he had that evidence, no
arguments whatsoever would shake his belief.
SECT. III.
Of the Evidence of Internal Sense, or Consciousness,
BY attending to what passes in my mind, I know
not only that it exists, but also that it exerts
certain powers of action and perception; which, on
account either of a diversity in their objects, or
of a difference in their manner of operating, I con
sider as separate and distinct faculties; and which
I find it expedient to distinguish by different names,
that I may be able to speak of them so as to be under
stood. Thus I a:n conscious that at one time I
exert memory, at another time imagination: some
times I believe, sometimes I doubt : the perfor
mance of certain actions, an r i the indulgence of certain
affections, is attended with an agreeable feeling of a
peculiar kind which I call moral approbation ; dif
ferent actions and affections excite the opposite
feeling, of moral disapprobation : to relieve dis
tress, I fsal to be meritorious and praise- worthy :
to pick a pocket, I know to be blameable, and
worthy of punishment; I am conscious that some ac
tions are in my power, and that others are not ; that
when I- neglect to do what I ought to do, and can do,
I deserve to be punished ; and that when I act neces
sarily, or, upon unavoidable and irresistible compul
sion, I deserve neither punishment ncr blame. Of all
these sentiments I am as conscious, and as certain, as of
my own existence. I cannot prove that I feel them,
neither to myself, nor to others ; but that I do really
feel them, is as evident to me as demonstration could
make it. I cannot prove, in regard to my moral feel
ings, that they are comfortable to any extrinsick and
Dz
46 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I.
eternal relations of things ; but I know that my con
stitution necessarily determines me to believe them
just and genuine, even as it determines me to believe
that I myself exist, and that things are as my external
senses represent them. And a sophister could no more
prove to my conviction, that these feelings are falla
cious, or that I have no such feelings, than he could
prove to my conviction, that two and two nVay be e-
qual to fiVe, or that my friend is as much present with
me when I think of him at a thousand miles distance,
as when I sit and converse with him in the same cham
ber. An expert logician might perhaps puzzle me
with words, and propose difficulties I could not solve :
but he might as well attempt to convince me, that I
do not exist, as that I do not feel what I am consci
ous I do feel. And if he could induce me to suspect
that I may possibly be mistaken, what standard of
truth could he propose to me, more evident, and of
higher authority, than my own feelings ? Shall I be
lieve his tesnmony,and disbelieve my own sensations?
Sh. 11 I admit his reasons, because 1 cannot confute
them,, altho common sense tells me they are false ?
Shall I suffer the ambiguities of artificial language to
prevail against the clear, the intelligible, the irre
sistible voice of nature ? Am I to judge of the co
louring of a flower by moonshine, or by the .light of
the sun ? Or, because I cannot, by candle-light, distin
guish green from blue, shall I therefore infer, that
green and blue are the same ?
We cannot disbelieve the evidence of internal sense,
without offering violence to our nature. And if we be
led into such disbelief, or distrust, by the sophistry of
pretended philosophers, we act just as wisely as a ma-
jiner would do, who should suffer himself to be per
suaded, that the pole-star is continually changing its
place, but that the wind always blows from the same
quarter. Common sense, or instinct, which prompts
men to trust to their own feelings, hath in all ages con
tinued the same: but the interests, pursuit ^and abilu
CHAP, If. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 47
ties of philosophers are susceptible of endless variety;
and their theories vary accordingly.
Let it not be thought, that these objects and fa
culties of internal sensation are things too evanescent
to be attended to, or that their evidence is too weak
to produce a steady and well-grounded conviction.
They are more necessary to our happiness than even
the powers and objects of external sense ; yea, they
are no less necessary to cur existence. What can
be of greater consequence to man, than his moral
sentiments, his reason, his memory, his imagination ?
What more interesting, than to know, whether his
notions of duty and of truth be the dictates of his
nature, that is the voice of God, or the positive in
stitutions of men ? What is it to which A wise man
will pay more attention, than to his reason and con
science, thosn divine monitors, by which he is to
judge even of religion itself, and which he is not at
liberty to disobey, though .an angel from heaven
should command him ? The generality of mankind,
however ignorant of the received distinctions and ex
plications of their internal powers, do yet by their
conduct declare, that they feel their influence, and
acknowledge their authenticity. Every instance of
their being governed by a principle of moral obliga
tion, is a proof of this. They believe an action to
be lawful in the sight of God, when they are con
scious of a sentiment of lawfulness attending the
performance of it : they believe a certain mode of
conduct to be incumbent on them in certain circum
stances, because a notion of duty arises in their mind,
when they contemplate that conduct in relation to
those circumstances -" I ought to be grateful for,
^ a favour received. Why ? Because my conscience*
tells me so. How do you know that you ought
" to do that of which your conscience enjoins the
" performance ? I can give no further reason for it ;
* bu 5 * f eel that such is m 7 duty." Here the in
vestigation must stop ; or, if carried a little further
it must return to this point : I know that I
48 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I.
* ought to do what my conscience enjoins, because
* * God is the author of my constitution ; and I obey
** His will, when I act according to the principles of
* my constitution. Why do you obey the will
" of God ? Because it is my duty. How know
* you that ? Because my conscience tells me so."
If a man were sceptical in this matter, it would
not be in the power of argument to cure him. Such
a man could not be said to have any moral principle
distinct from the hope of reward, the fear of punish
ment, or the force of custom. But that there is in
human nature a moral principle distinct from those
motives, has been felt and acknowledged by men of
all ages and nations ; and indeed was never denied
or doubted, except by a few metaphysicians, who,
through want either of sense or of honesty, found
themselves disposed to deny the existence or ques
tion the authenticity, of our moral feelings. In the
celebrated dispute concerning liberty and necessity,
the advocates for the latter have either maintained,
that we have no sense of moral liberty ; or, grant
ing that we have such a sense, have endeavoured to
prove it deceitful. Now, if we be conscious, that
we have a sense of moral liberty, it is certainly as
absurd to argue against the existence of that sense,
us against the reality of any other matter of fact.
And if the real existence of that sense be acknow
ledged, it cannot be proved to be deceitful by any
arguments which may not also be applied to prove
every power of our nature deceitful, and consequent
ly, to show that man ought not to believe any thing
iit all. Buf^more of this afterwards.
We have no ether direct evidence than this of
consciousness, or internal sensation, for the existence
and identity of our own soul *. I exist ; I am the
same
=* I say, direct evidence. But there are not wanting
ether irrefragable, ti.ojgh indirect, evidences of the ex
istence of the huiuan soul. Sych ifc that v\lich results
H. AN ESSAY OF TRUTH. 49!
same being to-day I was yesterday, and twenty
years ago ; this principle, or being, within me,
that thinks and acts, is one permanent and individual
principle, distinct from all other principles, beings,
or
from a oomparison of the known qualities of matter with
the phenomena of animal motion and thought. 1 he fur
ther we carry our inquiries into matter, the more we are
convinced of its incapacity to begin motion. And as to
thought, and its several modes, if we think that thsy
might be produced by any possible configuration and ar
rangement of the minute particles of matter, we form a
supposition as arbitrary, as little warranted by experience
or evidence of any kind, and as contrary to the rules that
determine us in all our rational conjectures, as if we were
to suppose, that diamonds might be produced from the
smoke of a candle, or that men might grow like mush
rooms out of the earth. There must then, in all animals,
,and especially in .man, be a principle, net only distinct
and different from body, but in some respects of a quite
contrary nature. Tc ask, whether the Deity, without u-
niti ig body with spirit, ct)uld create thinking matter, is
just such a question, as, whether he could create a being
essentially active and essentially inactive, capable cf begin
ning motion, and at the same time incapable of beginning
motion : questions, which, if we allow experience to be -.a
rational ground of knowledge, we need not scruple to an
swer in the negative. For these questions, according to
the best lights that our rational faculties can a fiord, seem
to us to refer to the production of an effect as truly im
possible, as the creation of round squareness, hot cold,
black whiteness, or true falsehood.
Yet I am inclined to think, it is not by this argument
that the generality of mankind are led to acknowledge, tLe
existence of their own minds. An evidence more direct,
much more obvious, and not less convincing, every man
discovers in the instinctive suggestions of nature. We
perceive the existence of our souls by intuition ; and this
1 believe is the only way in which the vulgar perceive it.
But their conviction is not on that account the weaker j
on the contrary, they would account the man mad who
should seem to entertain any doubts on this subject.
JO AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART T.
or things ; these are dictates of internal sensation
natural to man, and universally acknowledged : and
they are of so great importance, that while we doubt
of their truth, we can hardly be interested in any
thing else whatsoever. If I were to believe with
Mr HUME, and some others, that my mind is perpe
tually changing, so as to become every different mo
ment a different thing, the remembrance of past, or
the anticipation of future good or evil, could give
me neither pleasure nor pain ; yea, though I were
to
One of the first thoughts that occur to Milton s Adam,
when " new waked from soundest sleep," is to inquire af
ter the cause of his existence :
" Thou sun, said I, fair light !
" And thou enlightened earth, so fresh and gay !
** Ye hills, and dales, ye rivers, woods, and plains,
** And, ye that live and move, fair creatures, tell,
" Tell, if ye stv. T , how came I thus, how here :
Not of myself 5 by some great jYlaker then,
" In goodness and in power pre-eminent.
" Tell me, hew I may know him, how adcrc,
** From whom I have, that thus I move and live,
" And feel that I am happier than I know."
Paradise Lost, viii. 273.
Of the reality of his own life, motion, and existence, it is
observable that be makes no question j and indeed it
would have been strange if lie had. Eut Dryden, in his
opera called The state of innocence, would needs attempt
an improvement on this passage \ and to make surer work,
obliges Adam to prove his existence by argument, before
he allows him to enter upon any other inquiry :
" What am I ? or from whence ? For that I am
" I know, because I think : but whence I came,
* 4 Or how this frame of mine began to be,
" What other being can disclose to me ?
Act 2. scene 1.
Dryden, it seems, bad read Des Cartes j but Milton had
studied nature : Accordingly Dryden speaks like a me-
taphysician, Milton like a poet and philosopher.
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 51
to believe, that cruel death would certainly over
take me within an hour, I should be no more con
cerned, than if I were told, that a certain elephant,
three thousand years hence,, would, be sacrificed on
the top of Mount Atlas. To a man who doubts the
individuality or identity of his own mind, virtue,
truth, religion, good and evil, hope and fear, are ab
solutely nothing.
Metaphysicians have taken some pains to confound
our notions on the subject of identity ; and, by e
stablishing the currency of certain ambiguous phrases
have succeeded so Well, that it is now nardly possible
for us to explain these dictates of our nature accord
ing to common sense and common experience> in such
language as shall be liable to no exception. The
misfortune is, that many of the words we must use
though extremely well understood, are either too
simple or too complex- in their, meaning, to admit a
logical definition ; so that the caviller is never at a
Joss for an evasive reply to any thing we may ad-*-
vance. But. I will take it upon me to affirm, that
there arc hardly any human notions more clearly,
or more universally understood, than those we en
tertain concerning the identity both of ourselves and
of other things, however difficult we may some
times find it to express those notions in proper
words. And I will also venture to affirm, that
the sentiments of the generality of mankind on this
hea d are grounded on such evidence, that he who
refuses to be convinced by it, acts irrationally, ami
cannot, consistently with such refusal, believe any
^
I. The existence of our own mind, as something
different and distinct from the body, is universally
acknowledged. I say universally ; having never
heard of any nation of men upon earth, who did not;
in their conversation and behaviour, show, by the
plainest signs, that they made this distinction. N-ay ?
so strongly are mankind impressed with it, that the
5 a AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I.
rudest barbarians, by their incantations, their fune
ral solemnities, their traditions concerning invisible
beings, and their hopes and opinions of a future state
seem to declare, that to the existence of the soul
the body is not, in their opinion necessary. All phi
losophers, a few Epicureans and Pyrrhonists except-
ed, have acknowledged the existence of the soul, ag
one- of the first and most unexceptionable principles
oi human science. Now whence could a notion so u-
niversal arise? Let us examine our own minds, and
we shall find, that it could arise from nothing but
consciousness, a certain irresistible persuasion, that
we have a soul distinct from the body. The evidence
of this notion is intuitive ; it is the evidence of in
ternal sense. Reasoning can neither prove nor dis
prove it. DES CARTES? and his disciple MALE-
BRANCHE, acknowledge, that the existence of the hu
man soul must be believed by all men, even by those
who can bring themselves to doubt of every thing
else.
Mr Simon Browne *, a learned and pious clergy
man of the last age, is perhaps the only person en re
cord of whom there is reason to think, that he se
riously disbelieved the existence of his own soul.
He imagined, that in consequence of an extraordi
nary interposition of divine power,, his rational soul
was gradually annihilated, and that nothing was now
left him, but a principle of animal life, which he held
in common with the brutes. But wherever the story
of this excellent person is known, his unhappy mis
take will be imputed to madness, and to a deprava
tion of intellect, as real, and as extraordinary, as if
he had disbelieved the existence of his body, or the
axioms of mathematics.
2. That the thinking principle, which we believe
to be within us, continues the same through life, is
equally self-evident, and equally agreeable to the u-
* See his affecting story in the Adventurer, vol. 3.
No. 8.8,.
CHAP, II. AN ESSAY OK TRUTH, 5J
niversal consent of mankind. If a man were to speak
and act in the evening, as if he believed himself to
have become a different person since the morning,
the whole world would pronounce him in a state of
insanity. Were we to attempt to disbelieve our
own identity, we should labour in vain ; we could ag
easily bring ourselves to believe, rhat it is possible
for the same thing to be and not to be. But there
is no reason to think, that this attempt was ever
imde by any man, not even by Mr HUME himself ;
though that author, in his Treatise of Human Na
ture, has asserted, yea, and proved too, Caccording
to his notions of proaf,^ that the human soul is per
petually changing ; being nothing but " a bundle of
* f perceptions, that succeed each other with incon-
" ceivable rapidity, and are (as he clauses to express
" it) in a perpetual flux *." He might as easily,
and as decisively, with equal credit to his own un
derstanding, and with equal advantage to the reader,
by a method of reasoning no less philosophical, and
with the same degree of discretion in the use of words
have attacked the axioms of mathematics, and pro
duced a formal and serious confutation of them. In
explaining the evidence on which we believe our own
identity, it is not necessary that I should here exa
mine his arguments against that belief: first, because
the point in question is self-evident ; and therefore
all reasoning on the other side unphilosophical and
irrational : and, secondly, because I shall afterwards
prove that some of Mr HUME S first principles are
inconceivable and impossible ; and that this very no
tion of his concerning identity, when fairly stated, is
absurd and s If-contradictory.
It has been asked, how we can pretend to have
lull evidence of our identity, when of identity itself
we are so far from having a distinct notion, that we
cannot define it. It might with as good reason be
cl, how we come to believe that two and two are
* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 428, &.c*
|4 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART 1^
equal to four, or that a circle is different from a
triangle, if we cannot define either equality or diver
sity: why we believe in our own existence, since
we cannot define existence : why, in a word, the
vulgar believe any thing at all, since they know no
thing about the rules of definition, and hardly ever
attempt it. In fact, we have numberless ideas that
admit not of definition, and yet concerning which we
may argue, and believe, and know, with the utmost
clearness and certainty. To define heat or cold, i-
dentity or diversity, red, or white, an ox or an ass,
would puzzle all the logicians on earth ; yet nothing
can be clearer, or more certain, than many of our
uidgment- concerning those objects. The rudest of
the vulgar know most perfectly what they mean,
when they say, Three months ago I was at such a
town, and have ever since been at home : and the
conviction they have of the truth of this proposition,
is founded on the best of evidence, namely, on that
of internal sense ; in which all men, by the law of
their nature, do and must implicitly believe.
It has been asked, whether this continued consci
ousness of our being always the same, does not con
stitute our sameness or identity. No more, I should
answer, than our perception of truth, light, or cold,
k the eilicient cause of truth, light, or cold. Our
identity is perceived by consciousness ; but consci
ousness is as different from identity, as the under
standing is different from truth, as past events are
different from memory, as colours from the power
of seeing. Consciousness of identity is so far from
constituting identity, that it presupposes it. An
animal might continue the same being, and yet not
be conscious of its identity ; which is probably the
csse with many of the brute creation ; nay, which is
often the case with man himself. When we sleep
witho t dreaming, or fall into a fainting nt *, or rave
* The following case, which 3VI. Crozaz gave in to the
Academy of Sciences, is the most extraordinary instance
CHAP. ir. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 35
in a fever, and often too in our ordinary dreams, we
lose all sense of our identity, and yet never conceive
that our identity has suffered any interruption or
change : the moment we awake or recover, we are
conscious that we are the same individual beings we
were before.
Many doubts and difficulties have been started a-
bout our manner of conceiving identity of person un
der a change of substance, Plutarch tells us, that in
the time of Demetrius Phalereus, the Athenians
still preserved the custom of sending every year
to Delos the same galley which, about a thousand
years
of interrupted consciousness I have ever heard of. A
nobleman of Lausanne, as he was giving orders to a ser
vant, suddenly lost his speech and all his senses. Different
remedies were tried without effect for six months j during
all which time he appeared to be in a deep sleep, or deh-
quium, with various symptoms at different periods, which
nre particularly specified in the narration. At last, after
some chirurgical operations, at the end of six months his
speech and senses were suddenly restored. When he re
covered, the servant to whom he had been giving orders
when he was first seized with the distemper, happening to
be in the room, he asked whether he had executed his
commission ; not being sensible, it seems, that any interval
of time, except, perhaps a very short one, had elapsed du
ring his illness. He lived ten years after, and died of a-
nother disease. See D Histoire de /* Academic Royale des
Sciences, pour /* ann/e, 1719, p. 28. Van Swieten also
relates this story in his commentaries on Boerhaave s
Aphorisms, under the head Apoplexy. I mention it chief
ly with a view to the reader s amusement \ he may con
sider the evidence, and believe or disbelieve as he please?.
But that consciousness may be interrupted by a total de-
liquium, without any change in our notions of our own i-
dentity, I know by my own experience. I am therefore
fully persuaded, that the identity of this substance, which
I call my soul, may continue even when I am unconscious
of it j and if for a shorter space, why not for a longer ?
E
5^ AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I.
years before, had brought Theseus and his company
from Crete ; and that it then used to be a question
in the schools, how this could be the same vessel,
when every part of its materials had been changed
oftener than once *. It is asked, how a tree can be
accounted the same, when, from a plant of an inch
long, it has grown to the height of fifty feet ; and
how identity can be ascribed to the human body,
since its parts are continually changing, so that not
one particle of the body I now have, belonged to the
body I had twenty years ago.
It were well, if metaphysicians would think more
and speak less on these subjects : they would then
find, that the difficulties so much complained of are
rather verbal than real. Was there a single Athen
ian, who did not know in what respects the galley of
Theseus continued the same, and in what respects it
was changed ? It was the same in respect of its name,
its destination, its shape perhaps, and size, and some
other particulars ; in respect of its substance, it was
altogether different. And when one party in the
schools maintained, that it was the same, and the
other, that it was not the same, all the difference be
tween them was this, that the one used the word
same in one sense, and the other in another.
The identity of vegetables is as easily conceived.
No man imagines, that the plant of an inch long is
the same in substance with the tree of fifty feet.
The latter is by the vulgar supposed to retain all the
substance of the former, but with the addition of an
immense quantity of adventitious matter. Thus
far, and no further, do they suppose the substance
of the tree to continue the same. They call it, how
ever, the same tree ; and the same it is, in many re
spects, which to every person of common sense are
obvious enough, though not easily expressed in un
exceptionable language.
* Plutarch, in Theseo. Plato, in Phaedone.
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 57
Of the changes made in the human body by attri
tion, the vulgar have no notion. They believe the
substance of a full-grown body to continue the same,
notwithstanding its being sometimes fatter, and some
times leaner ; even as they suppose the substance of
a wall to be the same before and after it is plaistered,
or painted. They therefore do not ascribe to it i-
dentity of person, and diversity of substance, but a
real and proper identity both of substance and per
son. Of the identity of the body while increasing in
stature, they conceive, nearly in the same way, as of
the identity of vegetables : they know in what re
spects it continues the same, and in what respects u
becomes different ; there is no confusion in their no
tions ; they never suppose it to be different in those
respects in which they know it to be the same.
When philosophers speak of the identity of the
human body, they must mean, not that its substance
is the same, for this they say is perpetually chang
ing ; but that it is the same, in respect of its having
been all along animated with the same vital and
thinking principle, distinguished by the same name,
marked with the same or similar features, placed in
the same relations of life, &c It must-be obvious
to the intelligent reader^ that the difficulties attend
ing this subject arise not from any ambiguity or in
tricacy in our notions or judgments, for these are
extremely clear, but from our way of expressing
them : the particulars in which an object continues
the same, are often so blended with tjiose in which
it has become different, that we cannot find proper
words for marking the distinction, and therefore
must have recourse to tedious and obscure circum
locutions.
But whatever judgments we form of the identity
of corporeal objects, we cannot from them draw any
inference concerning the identity of our mind. We
cannot ascribe extension or solidity to the soul, far
less any increase or diminution of solid or extended
2
58 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. FART I.
parts. Here, therefore, there is no ground for dis
tinguishing diversity of substance from identity of
person. Our soul is the very same being now it
was yesterday, last year, twenty years ago. This
is a dictate of common sense, an intuitive truth, which
ail mankind, by the law of their nature, do and must
believe, and the contrary of which is inconceivable.
V/e have perhaps changed many of our principles :
we may have acquired many new ideas and notions,
and lost many of those we once had ; but that the
substance, essence, or personality, of the soul, has
suffered any change, increase, or diminution, we never
have supposed, nor can suppose. New faculties have
perhaps appeared, with which we were formerly un
acquainted ; but these we cannot conceive to have
affected the identity of the soul, any more than lear
ning to write, or to play on a musical instrument, is
conceived to affect the identity of the hand ; or than
the perception of harmony the first time one hears
music, is conceived to affect the identity of the ear*.
* I beg leave to quote a few lines from an excellent
poem, written by an author, whose genius and virtue were
an honour to his country, and to human nature :
* Am I but what I seem, mere flesh and blood ?
" A branching channel, and a mazy flood ?
" The purple stream, that through my vessels glides,
4< Dull and unconscious flows like common tides.
** The pipes, through which the circling juices stray,
" Are not that thinking I, no more than they.
" This frame compacted with transcendent skill,
" Of moving joints, obedient to my will,
" Nursed from the fruitful glebe like yonder tree,
" Waxes and wastes : I call it MINE not ME.
" New matter still the mouldering mass sustains j
" The mansion changed, the tenant still remains,
" And, from the fleeting stream repaired by food,
" Distinct, as is the swimmer from the flood."
ARBUTHNOT. See Dodsley*.s Collection^ vol. 1. />. 1SO
CHAP. IT. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 59
But if we perceive our identity by consciousness,
and if the acts of consciousness by which we perceive
it be interrupted, how can we know that our identity
is not interrupted ? I answer, The law of our na
ture determines us, whether we will or not, to be
lieve that we continue the same thinking beings.
The interruption of consciousness, whether more or
less frequent, makes no change in this belief. My
perception of the visible creation is every moment
interrupted by the winking of my eyes. Am I
therefore to believe, that the visible universe, which
I this moment perceive, is not the same with the
visible universe I perceived last moment ? Then
must I also believe, that the existence of the uni
verse depends on the motion of my eye-lids ; and that
the muscles which move them have the power of
creating and annihilating worlds.
To conclude : That our soul exists, and continues
through life the same individual being, is a dictate
of common sense ; a truth which the law of our na
ture renders it impossible for us to disbelieve; and
in regard to which, we cannot suppose ourselves in
an error, without supposing our faculties fallacious,
and consequently disclaiming all conviction, and all
certainty, and disavowing the distinction between
truth and falsehood.
S E C T I ON IV.
Of tie Evidence of Memory.
PHE evidence of memory commands our belief as
J ~ effectually as that of sense. T cannot possibly
doubt, with regard to any of my transactions of yes
terday which I now remember, whether I perform
ed them or not. That I dined to-day, and was in
bed last night, is as certain to me, as that I at pre
sent see the colour of this paper. If we had no me^
mory, knowledge and experience would be impossi
ble j, and if we had any tendency to distrust our ratfi.
60 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I.
mory, knowledge and experience would be of as lit
tle use in directing our conduct and sentiments, as
our dreams now are. Sometimes we doubt, whe
ther in a particular case we exert memory or ima
gination ; and our belief is suspended accordingly :
but no sooner do we become conscious, that we re-
member, than conviction instantly takes place ; we
say, I am certain it was so, for now I remember I
was an eye-witness.
But who is it that teaches the child to believe,
that yesterday he was punished, because he remem
bers to have been punished yesterday ? Or, by what
argument will you convince him, that, notwithstan
ding his remembrance, he ought not to believe that
he was punished yesterday, because memory is fal
lacious ? The matter depends not on education or
reasoning. We trust to the evidence of memory,
because we cannot help trusting to it. The same
Providence that endued us with memory, with
out any care of ours, endued us also with an instinc
tive propensity to believe in it,, previously to all rea
soning and experience. Nay, all reasoning suppo
ses the testimony of memory to be authentic : for,
without trusting implicitly to this testimony, no
train of reasoning could be prosecuted ; we could ne
ver be convinced, that the conclusion is fair, if we
did not remember the several steps of the argument,
and if we were not certain that this remembrance i s
not fallacious.
The diversities of memory in different men are
very remarkable j and in the same man the remem
brance of some things is more lasting, and more
lively than that of others. Some of the ideas of me
mory seem to decay gradually by length of time j
so that there may be some things which I distinctly
remember seven years age, but which at present I
remember very imperfectly, and which in seven
years more Cif I live so long) I shall have utterly
forgotten. Hence some have been led to think, that
CHAP. II. AN ESSAV ON TRUTH. tfl-
the evidence of memory decays gradually, from ab
solute certainty, through all the degrees of probabi
lity, down to that suspense of judgment uhich we
call doubt. They seem to have imagined, that the
vivacity of the idea is in some sort necessary to the
establishment of belief. Nay, one author * has gone
so far as to say, that belief is nothing else but this
vivacity of ideas j as if we never believed what we
have no lively conception of, nor doubted of any
thing of which we have a lively conception. But
this doctrine is so absurd, that it hardly deserves a
serious confutation. I have a much more lively idea
of Don Quixote than of the present King of Prus
sia ; and yet I believe that the latter does exist, and
that the former never did. When I was a school-
"boy, I read an abridgment of the history of Robin
son Crusoe, and believed every word of it ; since I
grew up, I have read that ingenious work at large,
and consequently have a much livelier conception of
it than before ; yet now I believe the whole to be a
fiction. Some months ago I read the Treatise of
Human Nature, and have at present a pretty clear
remembrance of its contents; but I shall probably
forget the greater part in a short time. When this
happens, I ought not, according to Mr HUME S
theory, to believe that I ever read it. As long s
however, as my faculties remain unimpaired, I fear
I shall hardly be able to bring myself to this pitch of
scepticism. No, no j I shall ever have good reason
to remember my having read that book, however
imperfect my remembrance may be, and however
little ground I may have to congratulate myself up
on my acquaintance with it.
The vivacity of a perception does not seem neees-
sary to our belief of the existence of the thing per
ceived. I see a town afar off; its visible magnitude
is not more than an inch square, and therefore my
* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p, 1,
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH-. PRAT IV
perception of it is neither lively nor distinct ;. and
yet I as certainly believe that town to exist, as if I
were in the centre of it. I see an object in motion
on the top of yonder hill ; I cannot discern whether
it be a man, or a horse, or both ; I therefore exert
no belief in regard to the class or species of objects
to which it belongs, but I believe with as much as
surance that it exists, as if I saw it distinctly in all
its parts and dimensions. We have never any
doubt of the existence of an object so long as we are
sure that we perceive it by our senses, whether the
perception be strong or weak, distinct or confused - r
but whenever we begin to doubt, whether the ob
ject be perceived by our senses, or whether we only
imagine that we perceive it, then we likewise begin
to doubt of its existence.
These observations are applicable to memory. I
saw a certain object some years ago ; my remem
brance of it is less distinct now than it was the day
after I saw it ; but I believe the evidence of my me
mory as much at present as I did then, in regard to
all the parts of it which I now am Conscious that I
remember. Let a past event be ever so remote in
time, if I am conscious that I remember it, I still
believe, with equal assurance, that this event did-
once take place. For what is memory, but a con^
sciousness of our having formerly done or perceived
something ? And if it be true, that something is
perceived or done at this present moment, it will al*
ways be true, that at this moment that thing was
perceived or done. The evidence of memory does
not decay in proportion as the ideas of memory be-
come less lively ; as long as we are conscious that we
remember, so long will the evidence attending that
remembrance produce absolute certainty ; and abso
lute certainty admits not of degrees. Indeed, as was
already observed, when remembrance becomes so ob
scure, that we are at a loss to determine whether
we remembtr or only imagine an event, in this case
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 63
belief will be suspended till we become certain whe
ther we remember or not ; whenever we become
certain that we do remember, conviction instantly
arises.
Some have supposed that the evidence of memory
is liable to become uncertain, because we are not well
enough acquainted with the difference between me
mory and imagination, to be able at all times to de
termine, whether the one or the other be exerted in
regard to the events or facts we may have occasion
to contemplate. " You say, that while you only
" imagine an event, you neither believe nor disbe-
" lieve the existence or reality of it : but that as
soon as you become conscious that you remember
* it, you instantly believe it to have been real.
" You must then know with certainty the difference
" between memory and imagination, and be able to
".tell by what marks you distinguish the operations
44 of the former from those of the latter. If you
" cannot do this, you may mistake the one for the
" other, and think that you imagine when you real-
u ly remember, and that you remember when you
" only imagine. That belief, therefore, must be
" very precarious and uncertain, which is built up-
" on the evidence of memory, since this evidence
" is so apt to be confounded with the visionary ex-
" hibirions of imagination, which, by your own ac-
44 knowledgment, can never constitute a foundation
" for true rational belief." This is an objection,
according to the metaphysical mode, which, without
consulting experience, is satisfied if a few plausible
words can be put together in the form of an argu
ment : but this objection will have no credit with
those who acknowledge ultimate instinctive princi
ples of conviction, and who have more faith in their
own feelings than it: the subtleties of logic.
It is certain the vulgar are not able to give a sa
tisfactory account of the difference between memory
and imagination ; even philosophers have not al~
64 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I,
ways succeeded in their attempts to illustrate this
point. Mr HUME tells us, that ideas of memory
are distinguished from those of imagination by the
superior vivacity of the former *. This may some
times, but cannot always, be true : for ideas of ima
gination are often mistaken for objects of sense ; i-
deas of memory never. The former, therefore,
must often be more lively than the latter ; for, ac
cording to Mr HUME S own account, all ideas are
weaker than impressions, or informations of sensef.
Dreaming persons, lunatics, stage-players, enthusi
asts, and all who are agitated by fear, or other vio
lent passions, are apt to mistake ideas of imagina
tion for real things, and the perception of those ideas
for real sensation. And the same thing is often ex
perienced by persons of strong fancy, and great sen
sibility of temper, at a time when they are not trou
bled with any fits of irrationality or violent pas
sion.
But whatever difficulty we may find in defining
or describing memory, so as to distinguish it from
imagination, we are never at any loss about our own
meaning, when we speak of remembering and of ima
gining. We all know what it is to remember, and
what it is to imagine ; a retrospect to former expe
rience always attends the exertions of memory; but
those of imagination are not attended with any such
retrospect. " I remember to have seen a lion, and
" I can imagine an elephant or centaur, which I have
" never seen i 1 - Every body who uses these words
knows very well what they mean, whether he be a-
ble to explain his meaning by other words or not.
The truth is, that when we remember, we generally
know that we remember ; when we imagine, we ge
nerally know that we imagine | : such is our conbti-
* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 153.
f Ibid. p. 41.
In dreams indeed this is not the case > but the delu*
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 65
tution. We therefore do not suppose the evidence
of memory uncertain, notwithstanding that we may
be at a loss to explain the difference between that fa
culty and imagination : this difference is perfectly
known to every man by experience, though perhaps
no man can fully express it in words. There are
many things very familiar to us, which we have no
words to express. I cannot describe or define,
either a red colour, which I know to be a simple ob
ject, or a white colour, which I know to be a com
position of seven colours : but will any one hence
infer, that I am ignorant of their difference, so as
not to know, when I look on ermine, whether it be
white or red ? Let it not then be said, that because
we cannot define memory and imagination, therefore
we are ignorant of their difference : every person of
a sound mind, knows their difference, and can with
certainty determine, when it is that he exerts the
one, and when it is that he exerts the other.
SECT. V.
Of Reasoning from the Effect to tie Cause.
T LEFT my chamber an hour ago, and now at my
* return find a book on the table, the size, and bind
ing, and contents of which are so remarkable, that
I am certain it was not here when I went out ; and
that I never saw it before. 1 ask, who brought
this book ; and am told, that no body has entered
my apartment since I left it. That, say I, is im
possible. 1 make a more particular inquiry ; and a
servant, in whose veracity I can confide, assures me,
that he has had his eye on my chamber-door the
sions of dreaming, notwithstanding our frequent expe
rience of them, are never supposed to affect in the least
deg ree either the veracity cf ourfaculties, or the certain
ty of our knowledge. See below, Part II. Chap. 2.
Sect.2.
66 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART r,
whole day, and that no person has entered it but
myself only. Then, say i, the person who brought
this book must have come in by the window or the
Chimney ; for it is impossible that this book could
have come hither of itself. The servant bids me
remember, that my chimney is too narrow to admit
any human creature, and that the window is secured
on the inside in such a manner that it cannot be o-
pened from without. I examine the walls ; it is e-
vident no breach has been made ; and there is but
one door to the apartment. What shall I think ? If
the servant s report be true, and if the book have
not been brought by any visible agent, it must have
come in a miraculous manner, by the interposition of
some invisible cause ; for still I must repeat, that
without some cause it could not possibly have come
hither.
Let the reader consider the case, and deliberate
with himself whether I think irrationally on this
occasion, or express myself too strongly, when I
speak of the impossibility of a book appearing in
my chamber without some cause of its appearance,
either visible or invisible. I would not willingly
refer such a phenomenon to a miracle ; but still
a miracle is possible ; whereas it is absolutely im
possible that this could have happened without a
cause ; at least it seems to me to be as real an im
possibility, as that a part should be greater than
the whole, or that things equal to one and the same
thing should be unequal to one another. And I
presume the reader will be of my opinion ; for, in all
my intercourse with others, and after a careful ex
amination of my own mind, I have never found any
reason to think, that it is possible for a human, or
for a rational creature, to conceive a thing beginning
to exist, and proceeding from no cause.
I pronounce it therefore to be an axiom, clear,
certain, and undeniable, That " whatever beginneth
" to exist, proceedeth from some cause." 1 cannot
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 67
bring myself to think, that the reverse of any geo
metrical axiom is more absuid than the reverse of
this ; and therefore I am as certain of the truth of
this, as I can be of the truth of the other ; and
cannot, without contradicting myself, and doing
violence to my nature, even attempt to believe o-
therwise.
Whether this maxim be intuitive or demonstra
ble, may perhaps admit of some dispute ; but the
determination of that point will not in the least af
fect the truth of the maxim. If it be demonstrable,
we can then assign a reason for our belief of it : if
it be intuitive, it is on the same footing with other
intuitive axioms ; that is, we believe it, because
the law of our nature renders it impossible for U3
to disbelieve it.
In proof of this maxim it has been said, that no
thing can produce itself. . But this truth is not more
evident than the truth to be proved, and therefore is
no proof at all. Nay, this last proposition seems to
be only a different, and less proper, way of express
ing the same thing: Nothing can produce itself ;
that is, every thing produced, must be produced by-
some other thing ; that is, every effect must proceed
from a cause ; and that is, (for all effects being pos
terior to their causes, must necessarily have a be
ginning) * every thing beginning to exist proceeds
** from some cause." Other arguments have been
offered in proof of this maxim, which I think are
sufficiently confuted by Mr HUME, in his treatise of
Human Nature *. This maxim therefore he affirms
and I allow, to be not demonstrably certain. But he
further affirms, that it is not intuitively certain ; in
which I cannot agree with him. " All certainty,"
says he, " arises from the comparison of ideas, and
" from the discovery of such relations as are unalter-
" able so long as the ideas continue the same : but
* B:>ok 1. part 3. sect. 3.
*
68 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I.
. " the only relations * of this kind are resemblance,
" proportion in quantity and number, degrees of any
" quality, and contrariety ; none of which is implied
" in the maxim, Whatever begins to exist, proceeds
"from some cause : that maxim therefore is not in-
* tuitively certain." This argument, if it prove
any thing at all, would prove, that the maxim is not
even certain ; for we are here told, that it has not that
character or quality from which all certainty arises.
But, if I mistake not, both the premises of this
syllogism are false. In the first place, I cannot ad
mit, that all certainty arises from a comparison of
ideas. I am certain of the existence of myself and
of the other things that affect my senses ; I am cer
tain, that " whatever is, is ;" and yet I cannot con
ceive, that any comparison of ideas is necessary to
produce these convictions in my mind. Perhaps I
cannot speak of them without using words expres
sive of relation ; but the*simple act or perception of
the understanding by which I am conscious of them,
implies not any comparison that I can discover. If
it did, then the simplest intuitive truth requires
proof, or illustration at least, before it can be ac
knowledged as truth by the mind ; which I presume
will not be found warranted by experience. Whe
ther others are conscious of making such a compari
son, before they yield assent to the simplest intui
tive truth, I know not ; but this I know, that my
mind is often conscious of certainty where no such
comparison has been made by rne. I acknowledge,
* There are, according to Mr HUME, seven different
kinds of philosophical relation, to wit, Resemblance, Iden
tity, Relations of time and place, Proportion in quantity
*>r number, Degrees in any common quality, Contrariety,
and Causation. And by the word Relation he here means
ibat particular circumstance in which we may think pro
per to compare ideas. See Treatise of Human Nature, vof.
I. p. 32.
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 69
indeed, that zao certain truth can become an object of
science, till it be expressed in words ; that, if express
ed in words, it must assume the form of a proposi
tion ; and that every proposition, being either affir
mative or negative, must imply a comparison of the
thing or subject, with that quality or circumstance
which is affirmed or denied, to belong to, or agree
with it: and therefore I acknowledge, that in science
all certainty may be said to arise from a comparison
of ideas. But the generality of mankind believe
many things as certain, which they never thought of
expressing in words. An ordinary man believer,
that himself, his family, his house, and cattle, exist >
but, in order to produce this belief in his mind, is it
necessary, that ha compare those objects with the
general idea of existence or non-existence, so as to
discern their agreement with the one, or disagreement
with the other ? I cannot think it : at least, if he has
ever made such a comparison, it must have been
without his knowledge ; for I am convinced, that, if
we were to ask him the question, he would not un
derstand us.
Secondly, I apprehend, that Mr HUME has not e-
numerated all the relations which, when discovered,
give rise to certainty. T am certain, that I am the
same person to-day I was yesterday. Mr HUME
indeed will not allow that this is possible *. I can
not help it; I arn certain notwithstanding ; and I
flatter mysdf, there are not many persons in the
world who would think this sentiment of mine a
paradox. I s^y, then, I am certain, that I am the
same person to-day I was yesterday. Now, the re
lation expressed in this proposition is net resem
blance, nor proportion in quantity and number, nor
degrees of any common quality, nor contrariety : it
is a relation different from all these ; it is identity
or sameness. That London is contiguous to the
Thames, is a proposition which many of the most
* See Part 2-. chap. 2. sect 1. of this Essay.
F 2.
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I.
sensible people in Europe hold to be certainly true ;
and yet the relation expressed in it is none of those
four which our author supposes to be the sole pro
prietors of certainty. For it is not in respect of re
semblance, of proportion in quantity or number, of
contrariety, or of degrees in any common quality,
that London and the Thames are here compared, but
purely in respect of place or situation.
Again, that the foregoing maxim is neither intui
tively nor demonstrably certain, our author attempts
to prove from this consideration, that we cannot de
monstrate the impossibility of the contrary. Nay,
the contrary, he says, is not inconceivable : " for we
* can conceive an object non-existent this moment,
" and existent the next, without joining it to the i-
" dea of a cause, which is an idea altogether distinct
" and different." But this I presume, is not a fair
state of the case. Can we conceive a thing begin
ning to exist, and yet bring ourselves to think that a
cause is not necessary to the production of such a
thing ? If we cannot, (I am sure I cannot), then is
the contrary of this maxim, when fairly stated, found
to be truly and properly inconceivable.
But whether the contrary of this maxim be incon
ceivable or not, the maxim itself may be intuitively
certain. Of intuitive, as well as of demonstrable
truths, there are different kinds. It is a character of
some, that their contraries are inconceivable : such
are the axioms of geometry. But of many other
intuitive truths, the contraries are conceivable. " I
do feel a hard body ;" " I do not feel a hard body ;"
these propositions are equally conceivable : the first
is true, for I have a pen between my fingers ; but I
cannot prove its truth by argument ; therefore its
truth is perceived intuitively.
Thus far we have argued for the sake of argument,
and opposed metaphysic to metaphysic *, in order to
prove, that our author s reasoning on the present sub-
* See part 3. chap. 2, of this Essay.
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. ?!
ject is not conclusive. It is now time to enter into the
merits of the cause, and consider the matter philoso
phically that is, according to fact and experience. And
in this way we bring it to a very short issue. The
point in dispute is, Whether this maxim, " What-
" ever begins to exist, proceeds from some cause,
be intuitively certain ? That the mind naturally and
necessarily assents to it without any doubt, and con
siders its contrary as impossible, I have already-
shewn ; the maxim, therefore, is certainly true.
That it cannot, by any argument, or medium of
proof, be rendered more evident than it is when first
apprehended by the mind, is also certain ; for it is
of itself as evident as any proposition that can be
urged in proof of it. If, therefore, this maxim be
true, (as every rational being feels, and acknow-
ledgesj, it is a principle of common sense : we be
lieve it, not because we can give a reason, but be
cause, by the law of our nature, we must believe it.
Our opinion of the necessity of a cause to the pro
duction of every thing that has a beginning, is by
Mr HUME supposed to arise from observation and
experience. It is true, that in our experience we
have never found any thing beginning to exist, and
proceeding from no cause ; but I imagine it will not
appear, that our belief of this axiom hath experience
for its foundation. For le"t it be remarked, that seme
children, at a time when their experience is very
scanty, seem to be as sensible of the truth of this
axiom, as -many persons arrived at maturity. I do
not mean, that they ever repeat it in the form of a
proposition ; or that, if they were to hear it repeated
in that form they would instantly declare their as-*
sent to it ; for a proposition can never be rationally
assented to, except by those who understand the
words that compose it : but I mean, that these
children have a natural propensity to inquire aftet
the cause of any effect or event that engages their
attention -, which they would not do ; if the view of
3
7* AN ESSAY ON fRUTH. PART I.
an event or effect did not suggest to them, that a cause
is necessary to its production. Their curiosity in
asking the reasons and causes of every thing they
see and hear, is often very remarkable, and rises even
to impertinence ; at least it is called so when one is
not prepared to give them an answer. I have known
a child to break open his drum, to see if he could
discover the cause of its extraordinary sound ; and
that at the hazard of rendering the play thing unser
viceable, and of being punished for his indiscretion.
If the ardor of this curiosity were always propor
tioned to the extent of a child s experience, or to the
care his teachers have taken to make him attentive
to the dependence of effects on causes, we might then
ascribe it: to the power of education, or to a habit
contracted by experience. But every one who has
had an opportunity of conversing with children, knows
that this is not the case ; and that their curiosity
cannot otherwise be accounted for, than by suppos
ing it instinctive, and, like all other instincts, strong
er in some minds, and weaker in others, independent
ly on experience and education, and in consequence
of the appointment of that Being who had been
pleased to make one man differ from another in his
intellectual accomplishments, as well as in his fea
tures, complexion, and size. Nor let it be imagined,
because some children are in this respect more cu
rious than others, that therefore the belief of this
maxim is instinctive in Some minds only : the maxim
may be equally believed by all, notwithstanding this
diversity. For do we not find a similar diversity
In the genius of different men ? Some men have a
philosophical turn of mind, and love to investigate
causes, and to have a reason ready on every occasion ;
others are indifferent as to these matters, being in-
grossed by studies of another kind. And yet I pre
sume it will be found, that the truth of this maxim
is felt by every man> though perhaps rr.any me..i
, ,, .
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 7J
never thought of putting it in words in the form of
a proposition.
We repeat, therefore, that this axiom is one of the
principles of common sense, which every rational mind
does and must acknowledge to be true ; not because
it can be proved, but because the law of nature de
termines us to believe it without proof, and to look
upon its contrary as perfectly absurd, impossible,
and inconceivable.
The axiom now before us is the foundation of the
most important argument that ever employed human
reason ; I mean that which, from the works that are
created, evinces the eternal power and godhead of
the Creator. That argument, as far as it resolves
itself into this axiom, is properly a demonstration,
being a clear deduction from a self-evident principle ;
and therefore no man can pretend to understand it
without feeling it to be conclusive. So that what
the Psalmist says of the atheist is literally true, He
is a fool ; as really irrational as if he refused to be
convinced by a mathematical demonstration. Nay,
he is. more irrational ; because there is no truth de
monstrated in mathematics which so many powers of
our nature conspire to ratify, and with which the
minds of the whole rational creation are so deeply
impressed. The contemplation of the Divine Na
ture is the most useful and the most ennobling
exercise in which our faculties can be engaged,
and recommends itself to every man of sound
judgment and good taste, as the most durable
and the most perfect enjoyment that can possibly fall
to the share of any created being. Sceptics may
wrangle, and mockers may blaspheme ; but the pious
man knows by evidence too sublime for their com
prehension, that his affections are not misplaced, and
that his hopes shall not be disappointed ; by evidence
which, to every sound mind, is fully satisfactory ;
but which to the humble and tender-hearted, is al
together overwhelming, irresistible, and divine.
74 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART;I-
That many of the objects in nature have had a be
ginning, is obvious to our own senses and memory,
or confirmed by unquestionable testimony : these,
therefore, according to the axiom we are here con
sidering, must be believed to have proceeded from a
cause adequate at least to the efFecrs produced. That
the whole sensible universe hath to us the appearance
of an effect, of something which once was not, and
xvhich exists not by any necessity of nature, but by
the arbitrary appointment of some powerful and in
telligent cause different from and independent on it ;
that the universe, I say, has this appearance,
cannot be denied : and that it is what it appears to
be, an effect ; that it had a beginning, and was not
from eternity, is proved by every sort of evidence
the subject will admit. And if so, we offer violence
to our understanding, when we attempt to believe
that the whole universe does not proceed from some
cause ; and we argue unphilosophically and irration
ally, when we endeavour to disprove this natural and
universal suggestion of the human mind.
It is true, the universe is, as one may say, a work
sui generis, altogether singular, and such as we can
not properly compare to other xvorks ; because in
deed all works are comprehended in it. But that
natural dictate of the mind by which we believe the
universe to have proceeded from a cause, arises from
our considering, it as an effect ; a circumstance in
which it is perfectly similar to all works whatsoever.
The singularity of the effect rather confirms (if that
be possible) than weakens our belief of the necessity
of a cause ; at least it makes us more attentive to
the cause, and interests us more deeply in it. What
is the universe, but a vast system of works or ef
fects, some of them great, and others small; some
more and some less considerable ? If each of these
works, the least as well as the greatest, require a
cause for its production ; is it not in the highest de
gree absurd and unnatural to say, .that the whole is
C.HAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 75
not the effect of a cause ? Each link of a great chain
must -be supported by something, but the whole chain
may be supported by nothing : Nothing less than
an ounce can be a counterpoise to an ounce, nothing
less than a pound to a pound ; but the wing of a gnat,
or nothing at all, may be a sufficient counterpoise to
ten hundred thousand pounds : Are not these as
sertions too absurd to deserve an answer ?
The reader, if he has the misfortune to be ac
quainted with Mr HUME S Essay on a particular
providence and a future state, will see, that these re
marks are intended as an answer to a very strange
argument there advanced against the belief of a Die-
ty. " The universe," we are told, " is an object
" quite singular and unparalleled ; no other object
* ; that has fallen under our observation bears any
41 similarity to it ; neither it nor its cause can be
" comprehended under any known species ; and
* 4 therefore concerning the cause of the universe we
" can form no rational conclusion at all." 1 ap
peal to any man of sound judgment, whether that
suggestion of his understanding, which prompts him
to infer a cause from an effect, has any dependence
upon a prior operation of his mind, by which the
effect in question is referred to its genius or species.
When he pronounces concerning any object which
he conceives to have had a beginning, that it must
have proceeded from some cause, does this judg
ment necessarily imply any comparison of that ob
ject with others of a like kind ? If the new object
were in every respect unlike to other objects, would
this have any influence on his judgment? Would
he not acknowledge a cause to be as necessary fer
tile production of the most uncommon, as of the
most familiar object ? If therefore I believe, that
I myself owe my existence to some cause, because
there is something in my mind which necessarily
determines me to this belief, I must also, for the
very same reason, believe, that the whole universe
j6 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PRAT I.
(supposed to have had a beginning) proceeds from
some cause. The evidence of both is the same. If
I believe the first and not the second, I believe and
disbelieve the same evidence at the same time ; I
believe that the very same suggestion of my under
standing is both true and false.
Though I were to grant, that, when an object is-
reducible to no known genius , no rational inference,
can be made concerning its cause ; yet it will not
follow, that our inferences concerning the cause of.
the universe are irrational, supposing it reasonable
to believe that the universe had a beginning. If there.
be in the universe any thing which is reducible
to no known genius, let it be mentioned : if there be
any presumption for the existence of such a thing,
let the foundation of that presumption be explained.
And, if you please, I shall, for argument s sake, ad
mit, that concerning the cause of that particular thing,
no rational conclusion can be formed* But it has
never been asserted, that the existence of such a thing
is either real or probable. Mr HUME only asserts,,
that the universe itself, not any particular thing in
the universe, is reducible to no known genius. Well
then, let me ask, What is the universe ? A word ?
No ; it is a vast collection of things. Are all these
things reducible to genera ? Mr HUME does not
deny it Each of these things, then, if it had a be
ginning, must also have hadacause ? It must. What
thing in the universe exists uncaused ? Nothing.
Is this a rational conclusion ? So it seems. It seems,
then, that though it be rational to assign a cause to
every thing in the universe,, yet to assign a cause.
to the universe is noc rational ! It is shameful
thus to trifle with words. In fact, this argument
of Mr HUME S,, so highly admired by its Au
thor, is no argument at all. It is founded on a dis
tinction that is perfectly inconceivable. Twenty
shillings laid on a table make a pound : though you.
take up these twenty shillings, yet have you not ta
ken up the pound j you have only taken up twenty;..
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 77
shillings. If the reader cannot enter into this dis
tinction, he u ill never be able to conceive in what
the force of Mr HUME S argument consists.
If the universe had a beginning, it must have had a
cause. This is a self-evident axiom, or at least an
undeniable consequence of one. We necessarily as
sent to it ; such is the law of our nature. If we de
ny it, we cannot, without absurdity, believe any
thing else whatsoever j because we at the same
time deny the authenticity of those instinctive sugges
tions which are the foundation of all truth. The
Atheist will never be able to elude the force of this
argument, till he can prove, that everything in nature
exists necessarily, independently, and from eter
nity.
If Mr HUME S argument be found to turn to so
little account, from the simple consideration of the
universe, as existing, and as having had a beginning,
it will appear (if possible) still more irrational, when
we take a view of the universe, and its parts as of
works curiously adapted to certain ends. Their ex
istence displays the necessity of a powerful cause ;
their frame proves the cause to be intelligent, good,
and wise. The meanest of the works of nature
(if any of Nature s works may be called mean),
the* arrangement necessary for the production of the
smallest plant, requires in the cause a degree of pow
er, intelligence, and wisdom, which infinitely tran
scends the sublimest exertions of human ability.
What then shall we say of the cause that produces
an animal, a rational soul, a world, a system of
worlds, an universe? Shall we say, that infinite pow
er and wisdom are not necessary attributes of that
universal cause, though they be necessary attributes
of the cause that produces a plant ? Shall we
say, that the maker of a plant may be acknowled
ged to be powerful, intelligent, and wise ; because
there are many other things in nature that resemble
a plant j but that we cannot rationally acknowledge
7 8 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I.
the maker of the universe to be wise, powerful, or
intelligent, because there is nothing which the uni
verse resembles, or to which it may be compared ?
Can the man who argues in this manner have any
meaning to his words ?
For an answer to the other cavils thrown out by
Mr HUME, in this flimsy essay against tiic divine attri
butes, the reader is referred to the first part of But-
ler s Analogy of Natural and Revealed Religion.
It needs not be matter of any surprise, that we name,
on this occasion, a book which was published before
Mr HUML S essay was written. With infidel wri
ters it has long been the fashion, (less frequently in
deed with this author than with many others), to
deliver as their own, and as entirely new, objections
against religion, which have been repeatedly and un
answerably confuted. This piece of craft gives no
offence to their disciples ; these gentlemen, if they
read at all, generally causing to confine their inqui
ries to one side of the controversy : to themselves it
is a considerable saving in the articles of time and
invention.
SECT. VI.
Of Probable or Experimental Reasoning.
TN all our reasonings from the cause to the effect,
* we proceed on a supposition, and a belief, that
the course of nature will continue to be in time to
come what we experience it to be at present, and
remember it to have been in time past. This pre
sumption of continuance is the foundation of all our
judgments concerning future events ; and this, in
many cases, determines our conviction as effectually
as any proof or demonstration whatsoever ; al
though the conviction arising from it be different in
kind from what is produced by strict demonstration,
as well as from those kinds of conviction that attend
the evidence of sense, memory, and abstract intui
tion. The highest degree of conviction in reasoning
CH.i.P. II. A\* F..ffSAY OX TUL
from causes to effects, is cxued jworrt/ certain
the inferior degrees result from that specie:; of cv:-
pence which is called probability or vtrutimiliti
That all men will die ; that the sun will rise to-
mo rrovv, and the sea ebb and flow ; that sleep
continue to refresh, and food to nourish- us ; that {.he
same articulate sounds which to-day communicate
the ideas of virtue and vice, meat and drink, man
and beast, will to-morrow communicate the same i-
deas to the same persons ; no man can doubt, with
out being accounted a fool. In these, and in all othes
instances where our experience of the past has bea
equally extensive and uniform, our judgment con
cerning the future amounts to moral certainty ; we
believe, with full assurance, or at least without doubt
that the same laws of nature which have hitherto
operated, will continue to operate as long as we
foresee no cause to interrupt or hinder their oper-
ation.
But no person who attends to his own mind will
say, that, in these cases, our belief, or conviction,
or assurance, is the eifect of a proof, or of any thing
like it. If reasoning be at all employed, it is only
in order to give us a clear view of our past experi
ence with regard to the point in question. When
this view is obtained, reasoning is no longer neces
sary ; the mind, by its own innate force, and in con
sequence of an irresistible and instinctive impulse,
infers the future from the past immediately, and
without the intervention of any argument. The sea
has ebbed and flowed twice every day in time past ;
therefore the sea will continue to ebb and flow twice
every day in the time to come, is by no means a
logical deduction of a conclusion from premises *.
When our experience of the past has not been uniform
* This remark was first made by Mr HUME. See it
illustrated at great length in his Essays, part 2. sect. 4.
See also Dr Campbell * Dissertion on Miracles, p. 13, 14,
8o AN ESS AT ON TRUTH. PART I,
nor extensive, our opinion with regard to the fuf.ire
falls short of moral certainty ; and amounts oiJy to
a greater or less degree or smaller proportion of
favourable instances : we say, such an event will
probably happen, such another is wholly improbable.
If a medicine has proved salutary in one instance,
and failed in five, a physician would not chuse to re.
commend it, except in a desperate case ; and would
then consider its success as a thing rather to be wished
than expected. An equalnumber of favourable and un
favourable instances leave the mind in a state of
suspense, without exciting the smallest degree of as
surance on either side, except, perhaps, what may
arise from our being more interested on the one side
than on the other. A physician influenced by such
evidence would say, * My patient may recover, and
* he may die : I am sorry to say, that the former
"event is not one whit more probable than the lat-
** ter." -When the favourable instances exceed the
unfavourable in number, we begin to think the fu
ture event in some degree probable ; and more or less
so, according to the surplus of favourable instances.
A few favourable instances, without any mixture of
nnfavourable ones, render an event probable in a
pretty high degree : but the favourable experience
must be at once -extensive and uniform, before it
can produce moral certainty.
A man brought into being at maturity, and placed
In a desert island, would abandon himself to despair,
/vhen he first saw the sun set, and the night come
on ; for he could have no expectation that ever the
day would be renewed. But he is transported with
]oy, when he again beholds the glorious orb appear
ing in the east, and the heavens and the earth illumi
nated as before. He again views the declining sun
with apprehension, yet not without hope ; the second
niglit is less dismal than the first, but is still very
uncomfortable on account of the weakness of the
probability produced by one favourable instance. Ae
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 8l
the instances grow more numerous, the probability
becomes stronger and stronger : yet it may be ques
tioned, whether a man in these circumstances would
ever arrive at so high a degree of moral certainty in
this matter, as we experience ; who know, not only
that the sun has risen every day since we began to
exist, but also that the same phenomenon has happen,
ed regularly for more than five thousand years, with
out failing" in a single instance. The judgment of
our great epic poet appears no where to more advan
tage than in his eight book ; where Adam relates to
the atigel what passed in his mind immediately after
his awaking into life. The following passage is at
once trunscendently beautiful, and philosophically
just r
* While thus I call d, and stray d I knew not whither,
" From where I first drew air, and first beheld
fl This happy light, when answer none return M,
* On a green shady bank, profuse of flowers,
" Pensive I sat me down j there gentle sleep
* First found me, and with soft oppression seiz d
" My droused sense 5 untroubled, though I thought
" I then was passing to my former state
4i Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve *."
Paradise Lost, b. 8. 1. 283,
Adam at this time had no experience of sleep, and
therefore could not, with any probability, expect that
he was to recover from it. Irs approaches were at
tended with feelings similar to those he had experien
ced when awaking from non-existence, and would na
turally suggest that idea to his mind ; and as he had
no reason to expect that his life was to continue,
would intimate the probability that he was again
upon the verge of an insensible stale.
Now it is evident, from what has been already said,
that the degree of probability must be intuitively
* The beauty of these lines did not escape the elegant
and judicious Addison j but that author does not assigiTthe
reason of his approbation. Spect. No. 345-.
A!? JCbSAY OU TRUTH . - ? r ; .
r .the, -degree of assurance spontaneous 1 ! v
;-ud instinctively excited in the mind, upon the bare
consideration of the instances on either side ; and that
uTi of argument to connect the fn-
tvrz evirnt with the .past experience. Reasoning may
i)e employed in bringing the instances into view ;
but when ti- it is done, it is no longer necessary. And
>1 you were to argue with a man,, in order to convince
him th;:t a terrain future event is not so im
probable as he seems to think, you would only make
him take notice of same favourable instance which
lie had overlooked, or endeavour to render him sus
picious of the reality of some of the unfavourable in
stances ; leaving it to himself to estimate the degree
of probability. If he continue refractory, notwith
standing that his view of the subject is the same with
yours, he can be reasoned with in no other way, than
by your appealing to the common sense of mankind.
SECT. VII.
Of Analogical Reasoning.
REASONING from analogy, when traced up to
its source, will be found in like manner to ter
minate in a certain instinctive propensity, implanted
in us by our Maker, which leads us to expect, that
similar causes in similar circumstances, do probably
produce, or will probably produce, similar effects.
The probability which this kind of evidence is fit
ted to illustrate, does, like the former, admit of a
vast variety of degrees, from absolute doubting up
to moral certainty. When the ancient philosopher
who was shipwrecked in a strange country, disco
vered certain geometrical figures drawn upon the
sand by the sea-shore, he was naturally led to be
lieve, with a degree of assurance not inferior to mo
ral certainty, that the country was inhabited by
men, some of whom were men of study and science,
like himself. Had these figures been less regular,
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 83
and liker the appearance of chance-work, the pre
sumption from analogy, of the country being inha
bited, would have been weaker ; and had they been
of such a nature as left it altogether dubious, whe
ther they were the work of accident cr of design,
the evidence would have been too ambiguous to
serve as a foundation for any opinion.
In reasoning from analog} , w e argue from a fact
or thing experienced to something similar not expe
rienced ; and from our view of the former arises an
opinion with regard to the latter ; which opinion will
be found to imply a greater or less degree of assur
ance, according as the instance yro/ra which we argue
is more or less similar to the instance to which we ar
gue. Why the degree of our assurance is determined
by the degree of likeness, we cannot tell ; but we
know by experience, that this is the case : and by ex
perience also we know, that our assurance, such as it-
is, arises immediately in the mind, whenever we fix our
attention on the circumstances in which the probable-
event is expected, so as to trace their resemblance to
those circumstances in which we have known a simi
lar event to take place. A child who has been
burnt with a red-hot coal, is careful to- avoid touch
ing the flame of a candle j for aa, the visible quali
ties of the latter are like to those of the former, he
expects, with a very high degree of assurance, that
the effects produced by the candle, operating on
his fingers, will be similar to those produced by
the burning coal. And it deserves to be remar
ked, that the judgment a child forms- oa these
occasions may arise, and often doth arise, previ
ous to education and reasoning, and while expe
rience is very limited. Knowing that a lighted-
candle is a dangerous object, he will be shy of touch
ing a glow-worm, or a piece of wet fish shining in
the dark, because of their resemblance to the flame
of a candle : but as this resemblance is but imper
fect, his judgment, with regard to the consequences
G 3
84 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I.
of touching these objects, will probably be more in
clined to doubt, than in the former case, where the
instances were more similar.
Those who are acquainted with astronomy, think
U extremely probable, that the planets are inhabi
ted by living creatures, on account of their being in
all other respects so like to our earth. A man who
thinks them not much bigger than they appear to
the eye, never dreams of such a notion ; for to him
they seem in every respect unlike to our earth : and
there is no other way of bringing him over to the
astronomer s opinion, than by explaining to him
those particulars in which the planets and our earth
resemble one another. As soon as he comprehends
these particulars, and this resemblance, his mind of
its own accord admits the probability of the new o-
i>inion, without being led to it by any medium of
proof, connecting the facts he hath experienced with
other similar and probable facts lying beyond the
reach of his experience. Such a proof indeed could
not be given. If he were not convinced of the pro
bability by the bare view of the facts, you would
impute his perseverance in his old opinion, either to
obstinacy, or to w T ant of common sense ; two men
ial disorders for which logic provides no remedy.
SECT. VIII.
Of Faith in Testimony.
r ~PHERE are in the world many men, whose de-
-*- claration concerning any fact which they have
^een, and of which they are competent judges,
would engage my belief as effectually as the evi
dence of my own senses. A metaphysician may tell
-me, that this implicit confidence in testimony is un-
xvorthy of a philosopher and a logician, and that my
faith ought to be more rational. It may be so ; but
I believe as before notwithstanding. And I find,
that all men have the same confidence in the testi
mony of certain persons j and that if a man should
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 85
refuse to think as other men do in this matter, he
would be called obstinate, whimsical, narrow-min
ded, and a fool. If, after the experience of so many
ages, men are still disposed to believe the word of
an honest man, and find no inconvenience in doing
so, I must conclude, that it is not only natural, but
rational, expedient, and manly, to credit such tes
timony : and though I were to peruse volumes of
metaphysic written in proof of the fallability of tes
timony, I should still, like the rest of the world,
believe credible testimony without fear of inconve
nience. I know very well, that testimony is not
admitted in proof of any doctrine in mathematics,
because the evidence of that science is quite of a dif--
ferent kind. But is truth to be found in mathema
tics only ? is the geometrician the only person who
exerts a rational belief? do we never find conviction
arise in our minds, except when we contemplate an
intuitive axiom, or run over a mathematical demon
stration ? In natural philosophy, a science not in
ferior to pure mathematics in the certainty of its
conclusions, testimony is admitted as a sufficient
proof of many facts. To believe testimony, there
fore, is agreeable to nature, to reason, and to sound
philosophy.
When we believe the declaration of an honest
man, in regard to facts of which he has had expe
rience, we suppose, that by the view or percep
tion of these facts, his senses have been affected in
the same manner as ours would have been if we had
been in his place. So that faith in testimony is m
part resolvable into that conviction which is produ
ced by the evidence oi sense : at least, if we did not
believe our senses, we could not, without absurdi
ty, believe testimony ; if we have any tendency to
doubt the evidence of sense, we must, in regard to
testimony, be equally sceptical. Those philoso
phers, therefore, who would persuade us to reject
the evidence of sense, among whom are to be rec-
86 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I.
koned all who deny the existence of matter, are not
to be considered as mere theorists, whose specula
tions are of too abstract a nature to do any harm, but
as men of the most dangerous principles. Not ta
mention the bad effects of such doctrine upon science
in general *, I would only at present call upon the
reader to attend to its influence upon OUT religious
opinions and historical knowledge. Testimony is
the grand external evidence of Christianity. All
the- miracles wrought by our Saviour, and particu
larly that great decisive miracle, his resurrection
from the dead, were &o many appeals to the senses
of men, in proof of his divine mission : and what
ever some unthinking cavillers may object, this we
affirm to be not only the most proper, but the only
proper, kind of external evidence, that can be em
ployed, consistently with man s free agency and mo
ral probation, for establishing a popular and univer
sal religion among mankind. Now, if matter has no
existence but in our mind, our senses are deceit
ful : and if so, St Thomas must have been deceived
when he felt, and the rest of the apostles when they
saw, the body of their Lard after his resurrection ;
and all the facts recorded in history, both sacred and
civil, were no better than dreams or delusions, with
which perhaps St Matthew, St John, and St Luke,
Thucydides, Xenophon, and Cesar were affected,
but which they had no more ground of believing to
be real, than I have of believing, in consequence of my
having dreamed it, that I was last night in Constanti
nople. Nay, if I admit BERKELEY S and HUME S
theory, of the non-existence of matter, I must be
lieve, that what my senses declare to be true, is not
only not truth, but directly contrary to it. For does
not this philosophy teach, that what seems to human
sense to exist, does not exist ; and that what seems
corporeal is incorporeal ? and are not existence and
* See below, part 2. chap. 2. sect, 2>
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 87
non-existence, materiality and immateriality, con
traries ? Now,, if men ought to believe the contrary
of what their senses declare to be true, the evidence
of all hi story, of all testimony, and indeed of all ex
ternal perception, is no longer any .evidence of the
reality of the facts warranted by it ; but becomes,
on the contrary, a proof that those facts did never
happen. If it be urged, as an objection to this rea
soning, that BERKELEY was a Christian, notwith
standing his scepticism (or paradoxical belief) in o-
ther matters; I answer, that though he maintained
the doctrine of the non-existence of body, there is
no evidence that he either believed or understood
it : nay, there is positive evidence that he did nei
ther ; as I shall have occasion to show afterwards*.
Again, when we believe a man s word, because
we know him to be honest, or, in other words, have
had experience of his veracity, all reasoning on such
testimony is supported by the evidence of expe
rience, and by our presumption of the continuance
of the laws of nature :, the first evidence resolves
itself into instinctive conviction, and the second is
itself an instinctive presumption. The principles of
common sense, therefore, are the foundation of all
true reasoning concerning testimony of this kind.
It is said by MrHfc?M,in his Essay an Miracles,
that our belief of any fact from the report of eye
witnesses is derived from no other principle than ex
perience ; that is, from our observation of the vera
city of human testimony, and of the usual conformi
ty of facts to the report of witnesses. This doctrine
is confuted with great elegance and precision, and
with invincible force of argument, in Dr Campbell s
Dissertation on Miracles. It is, indeed, like most
of Mr HUME S capital doctrines, directly repugnant
to matter of fact : for our credulity is greatest when
our experience is least: that is, when we are
* See part 2. chap. 2. sect, 2, of tnis Essay.
$8 Atf ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I.
dren ; and generally grows less and less, in propor
tion as our experience becomes more and more ex
tensive : the very contrary of which must happen, if
Mr HUME S doctrine were true.
There is then m a man a propensity to believe
testimony antecedent to that experience, which Mr
HUME supposes, of the conformity of facts to the re
port of witnesses. But there is another sort of ex
perience, which may perhaps have soirre influence in
determining children to believe in testimony. Man
is naturally disposed to speak as he thinks j and most
men do so : for the most egregious liars speak truth
a hundred times * for once that they utter falsehood.
It is unnatural for human creatures to falsify ; and
they never think of departing from the truth, except
they have some end to answer by it. Accordingly
children, white their native simplicity remains un-
corruptcd, while they have no vice to disguise, no
punishment to fear, and no artificial scheme to pro
mote, do for the most part, if not always, speak as
they think : and so generally is their veracity ac
knowledged, that it has passed into a proverb, That
children and fools tell truth. Now I am not cer
tain, but this their innate propensity to speak truth,
may in part account for their readiness to believe
what others speak. They do not suspect the vera-
eity of others, because they are conscious and con
fident of their own. However, there is nothing ab
surd or unphilosophtcal in supposing, that they be
lieve testimony by one law of their nature, and
speak truth by another. I seek not therefore to re
solve the former principle into the latter ; I mention
them for the sake only of observing, that whether
they be allowed to be different principles, or differ
ent effects of the same principle, our general doc
trine remains equally clear, namely, That all rea
soning concerning the evidence of testimony does fi-
* See Dr Reid s Inquiry into the Human Miad, p. 474,
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, %
nally terminate in the principles of common sense.
This is true, as far as our faith in testimony is re
solvable iato experi mental conviction ; because we
have already shown, that all reasoning from expe
rience is resolvable into intuitive principles, either
of certain or of probable evidence : and surely it is
no less true, as far as jour faith in testimony is itself
instinctive, and such as cannot be resolved into any
liigher principle.
Our frith in testimony does often, but not always,
amount to absolute certainty. That there is such a
city as Constantinople, such a country as Lapland^
and such a mountain as the peak of TeneriiFe ; that
there were such men as Hannibal and Julius Cesar;
that England was conquered by Vv illiam the Norman ;
that Charles I. was beheaded ; of these, and such
like truths, every person acquainted with his
tory and geography accounts himself absolutely cer
tain. When a number of persons, not acting in con
cert, having no interest. to disguise the truth, and suf
ficient judges of that to which they bear testimony,
concur in making the same report, it would be ac
counted madness not to believe them. Nay, when
a number of witnesses, separately examined, and
having had no opportunity to concert a plan before
hand, do all agree in their declarations, we make no
scruple of yielding full faith to their testimony, even
though we have no evidence of their honesty or
skill ; nay, though they be notorious both for kna
very and folly : because the fictions of the human
mind being infinite, it is impossible that each of
these witnesses should, by mere accident, devise the
very same circumstances ; if therefore their declara
tions concur, this is a certain proof, that there is no
fiction in the case, and that they all speak from real
experience and knowledge. The inference we form
on these occasions is supported by arguments drawn
from our experience ; and all arguments of this sor
are resolvable into the principles of common sense,,
90 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART r.
In general, it will be found true of all our reasonings
concerning testimony, that they are founded, either
mediately or immediately, upon instinctive convic
tion or instinctive assent ; so that he who has re
solved to believe nothing but what he can give a
reason for, can never, consistently with this resolu
tion, believe any thing, either as certain or as pro
bable, upon the testimony of other men*
SECT. IX.
Conclusion of this Chapter.
HP HE conclusion to which we are led by the above
* induction, would perhaps be admitted by some
to be self-evident, or at least to stand in no great-
need of illustration ; to others it might have been
proved a prioriin very few words ; but to the greater
part of readers, a detail of particulars may be ne
cessary, in order to produce that steady and ivelt-
gronnded conviction which it is our ambition to es
tablish.
The argument a priori might be comprehended in
the following words. If there be any creatures in
human shape, who deny the distinction bet ween truth
and falsehood, or who are unconscious of that dis
tinction, they are far beyond the reaeh, and below
the notice, of philosophy, and therefore have no con
cern in this inquiry. Whoever is sensible of that
distinction, and is willing to acknowledge it, must
confess, that truth is something fixed and determinate,
depending not upon man, but upon the Author of
nature. The fundamental principles of truth must
therefore rest upon their own evidence, perceived in
tuitively by the understanding. If they did not, if
reasoning were necessary to enforce them, they must
be exposed to perpetual vicissitude, and appear inider
a different form in every individual, according to the
peculiar turn and character of his reasoning powers.
Were this the case, no man could know, of any pro-
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 79
position, whether it were true or false, till after he
had heard all the arguments that had been urged for
and against it ; and, even then, he could not know
with certainty, whether he had heard all that could
be urged : future disputants might overturn the for
mer arguments, and produce new ones, to continue
unanswered for a while, and then submit, in their
turn, to their successors. Were this the case, there
could be no such thing as an appeal to the common
sense of mankind, even as in a state of nature there
can be no appeal to the law ; every man would be
" a law unto himself, * not in morals only, but in
science of every kind.
We sometimes repine at the narrow limits pre
scribed to human capacity. Hitherto shalt thou
come, and no further, seems a hard prohibition, when
applied to the operations of mind. But as, in the
material world, it is to this prohibition man owes his
security and existence ; so, in the immaterial system,
it is to this we owe our dignity, our virtue, and our
happiness. A beacon blazing from a well-known
promontory is a welcome object to the bewildered
mariner ; who is so far from repining that he has
not the beneficial light in his own keeping, that he is
sensible its utility depends on its being placed on the
firm land, and commirted to the care of others.
We have now proved, that " except we believe
" many things without proof, we never can believe
" any thing at all ; for that all sound reasoning must
" ultimately rest on the principles of common sense,
" that is, on principles intuitively certain, or intui-
" tively probable ; and, consequently, that common
" sense is the ultimate judge of truth, to which reason
" must continually act in subordination *." To
common sense, therefore, all truth must be conform
able ; this is its fixed and invariable standard. And
whatever contradicts common sense, or is inconsis-
* See part 1. chap. J. sub, fin.
H
8o AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART r.
f-ent with that standard, though supported by argu-
guments that are deemed unanswerable, and by names
that are celebrated by all the oritics, academies, and
potentates on earth, is not truth, but falsehood. In
a word, the dictates of common sense are, in respect
to human knowledge in general, what the axioms of
geometry are in respect to mathematics : on the sup
position that those axioms are false or dubious, all
mathematical reasoning falls to the ground ; and on
the supposition that the dictates of common sense
are erroneous or deceitful, all science, truth, and vir
tue are vain.
I know not but it may be urged as an objection to
this doctrine, that, if we grant common sense to be
the ultimate judge in all disputes, a great part of
ancient and modern philosophy becomes useless. I
J dmit the objection with all my heart, in its full force,
and with all its consequences ; and yet I must repeat,
that if common sense be supposed fallacious, all
knowledge is at an end ; and that even a demonstra
tion of the fallacy would itself be fallacious and fri
volous. For if the dictates of, my nature deceive me
in one case, how shall I know that they do not de
ceive me in another? When a philosopher demon
strates to me, that matter exists not but in my mind,
and, independent on me and my faculties, has no ex
istence at all ; before I admit his demonstration, I
must disbelieve all my. senses, and distrust every
principle .of belief within -me : * before I admit his
demonstration, I must be convinced, that I and all
mankind arc fools ; that our Maker made us such,
and from the beginning intended to impose on us ;
and that it was not till about the six-thousandth year
of the world when this imposture was discovered ;
and then discovered, not by a divine revelation, not
by any rational investigation of the laws of nature,
not by any inference from previous truths of acknow
ledged authority, but by a pretty play of English
and French words, to which the learned have given
CKAF. II. AI7 ESSAY ON TRUTH. 8 1
the name of metaphysical reasoning. Before I admit
this pretended demonstration, I must bring myself
to believe what I find to be incredible ; which seems
to me not a whit less difficult than to perform what
is impossible. And when all this is done, if it were
possible that all this could be done, pray what is
science, or truth, or falsehood ? Shall I believe no
thing ? or shall I believe every thing ? Or am I ca
pable either of belief, of of disbelief? or do I ex
ist ? or is there such a thing as existence ?
The end of all science, and indeed of every useful
pursuit, is to make men happier, by improving them
in wisdom and virtue. I beg leave to ask, whether
the present race of men owe any part of their virtue,
wisdom, or happiness, to what metaphysicians have
written in proof of the non-existence of matter, and
the necessity of human actions ? If it be answered/
That cur happiness, wisdom, and virtue, are not at.
all affected by such controversies, then I must af-
fi-m, that all such controversies are useless. And
if it be true, that they have a tendency to promote
wrangling, which of all kinds of conversation is the
most unpleasant, and the most unprofitable ; or vain
polemical disquisition,, which cannot be carried oa
without waste of time, and prostitution of talents ;
or scepticism, which tends to make a man uncomfor
table in himself, and unserviceable to others : then"
I must affirm, that all such controversies are both use
less and mischievous ; and that the world would be
more wise, more virtuous, and more happy, without
them. But it is said, that they improve the under
standing, and render it more capable of discovering
truth, and detecting error. Be it so : but though
bars and loeks render our houses secure ; and though,
accuteness of hearing and feeling be. a valuable en-
dowment ; it will not follow, that thieves are a public
blessing ; or that the man is intitled to my gratitude*
who quickens my touch and hearing, by putting out
my eyes.
H-2.
94 A ^ ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I.
It is further said, that such controversies make
us sensible of the weakness of human reason, and the
imperfection of human knowledge ; and for the san
guinary principles of bigotry and enthusiasm, sub-
stitute the milky ones of scepticism and moderation.
And this is conceived to be of prodigious emolument
to mankind ; because a firm attachment to religion,
which a man may call bigotry if he pleases, doth
often give rise to a persecuting spirit ; whereas a
perfect indifference about it, which some men are
good-natured enough to call moderation, is a princi
ple of great good-breeding, and gives no sort of dis
turbance, either in private or public life. This is a
plea on which our modern sceptics plume themselves
not a little. And who will venture to arraign the
% 7 irtue or the sagacity of these projectors ? To ac
complish so great effects by means so simple j to pre
vent such dreadful calamities by so innocent an arti
fice, does it not display the perfection of benevolence
and wisdom ? Truly I can hardly imagine such a-
nother scheme, except perhaps the following. Sup
pose a physician ofc the Sangrado school, out of zeal
for the interest of the faculty, and the public good,
to prepare a bill to be laid before the parliament, in
these words : " That whereas good health, especially
" when of long standing, has a tendency to prepare
" the human frame for acute and inflammatory dis-
" tempers, which have been known to give extreme
" pain to the unhappy patient, and sometimes even
** bring him to the grave ; and whereas the said
** health, by making us brisk, and hearty, and happy,
(t is apt also, on, some occasions, to make us disbr-
" derly and licentious, to the great detriment of glass
" windows, lanthorns, and watchmen : Be it there-
" fore enacted, That all the inhabitants of these re-
" alms, for the peace of government, and the repose
" of the subject, be compelled, on pain of death, to
" bring their bodies down to a consumptive habit ;
w and that henceforth no person presume to walk a-
CHAFi-H. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 95
" broad with a cane, on pain of having his head broke
** with it, and being set in the stocks for six months j
" nor to walk at all, except with crutches, to be de-
" livered at the public charge to each person who
" makes affidavit, that he is no longer able to walk
" without them," &c. He who can eradicate con
viction from the human heart, may doubtless prevent
all the fatal effects of enthusiasm and bigotry ; and
if all human bodies were thrown into a consumption,
I believe there would be an end of riot, as well as
of inflammatory diseases. Whether the inconveni
ences, or the remedies, be the greater grievance, might
perhaps bear a question. Bigotry, enthusiam, and
a persecuting spirit, are very dangerous and destruc
tive ; universal scepticism, would, I am sure, be
equally so, if it were to infect the generality of man
kind. But what has religion and rational conviction
to do with either ? Nothing more than good health
has to do with acute distempers, and rebellious in
surrections ; or than the peace of government, and
tranquillity of the subject, have to do with a gradual
decay of our muscular flesh. True religion tends
to make men great, and good, and happy ; and if so,
its doctrines can never be too firmly believed, nor
held in too high veneration, And if truth be at all
attainable in philosophy, I cannot see why we should
scruple to receive it as such, when we have attained
it; nor how it can promote candour, good-bteediog,
and humanity, to pretend to doubt whit we do and
must believe, to profess to maintain doctrines of
which we are conscious- that they shock -our under
standing, to differ in judgment from all the world ex
cept a few metaphysical pedants, and to question the
evidence of those principles which all other men think
the most unquestionable, and most, sacred, Con vie-
tion and steadiness of principle, is that which gives
dignity, uniformity, and spirit, to human conduct, ,
and without which our happiness can neither be las
ting nor sincere. It constitutes, as it were, the vital
96 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I.
stamina of a great and manly character ; whereas
scepticism betrays a weak and sickly understanding,
and a levity of mind, from which nothing can be ex
pected but inconsistence and folly. In conjunction
ivith ill-nature, bad taste, and a hard heart, steadiness
and strong conviction will doubtless make a bad man,
and scepticism will make a worse : but good-nature,
elegant taste, and sensibility of heart, when united
with firmness of mind, become doubly respectable
and lovely ; whereas no man can act on the princi
ples of scepticism, without incurring universal con
tempt. But to return :
Mathematicians, and natural philosophers, do in
effect admit the distinction between common sense
and reason, as illustrated above ; for they are content
to rest their sciences either on self-evident axioms,
or on experiments warranted by the evidence of ex
ternal sense. The philosophers who treat of the
mind, do also sometimes profess to found their doc
trines on the evidence of sense : but this profession
23 merely verbal ; for whenever experience contra
dicts the system, they question the authenticity of.
that experience, and show you, by a most elaborate
investigation, that it is all a cheat. For it is easy to
write plausibly on any subject, and in vindication of
any doctrine, when either the indolence of the reader,
or the nature of the composition, gives the writer an
opportunity to avail himself of the ambiguity of
language. It is not often that men attend to the o-
pe ions of the mind ; and when they do, it is per
haps with some metaphysical book in their hands,,
which they read with a resolution to admire or des
pise, according as the fashion or their humour directs
them. In this situation, or even when they are dis
posed to judge impartially of the Writer, their atten
tion to what passes in their own mind is but super
ficial, and is very apt to be swayed by a secret bias
in favour of some theory. And then, it is sometimes
difficult to distinguish b^tvfeen a natural feeling and
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 97
a prejudice of education ; and our deference to the
opinion of a favourite author makes us think it more
difficult than it really is, and very often leads us to
mistake the one for the other. Nay, the very act of
studying discomposes our minds a little, and prevents
that free play of the faculties from which alone we
can judge with accuracy of their real nature. Be
sides, language, being originally intended to answer
the obvious exigencies of life, and express the qua
lities of matter, becomes metaphorical when applied
to the operations of mind. Thus we talk metapho
rically, when we speak of a warm imagination, a
sound judgment, a tenacious memory, an enlarged
understanding ; these epithets being originally and
properly expressive of material qualities. This
circumstance, however obvious, is not always attend
ed to 5 and hence we are apt to mistake verbal ana
logies for real ones, and to apply the laws of matter
to the operations of mmd ; and thus, by the mere
delusion of words, are led into error before we are a-
ware, and while our premises seem to be altogether
unexceptionable. It is a favourite maxim with
LOCKE, as it was with some ancient philosophers,
that the human soul, previous to education, is like a
piece of white paper, or tabula rasa ; and this simile,
harmless as it may appear, betrays our great modern
into several important mistakes. It is indeed one of
the most unlucky allusions that could have been
chosen. The human soul, when it begins to think,
is not extended, nor inert, nor of a white colour, nor
incapable of energy, nor wholly unfurnished with
ideas, ( for, if it think at all, it must have some ideas,
according to LOCKE S definition of the word*), nor as
susceptable of any one impression or character as of
*- The word idea serves best to stand for whatsoever is
tae object of the understanding when a man thinks. I
have used it to express whatever it is which the mind can
be employed about in thinking.
Introduction to Essay on Human Understanding, sect. 8,
9 AN ESSAY ON TRUIH, PART t,
any other. In what respect then does the human
soul resemble a piece of white paper ? To this philo
sophical conundrum I confess I can give no serious
answer. Even when the terms we u^e are not meta
phorical, the natural abstruseness of the subject
makes them appear somewhat mysterious ; and we
are apt to consider them as of more significancy than
they really are. Had Mr HUME told the world in
plain terms, that virtue is a species of vice, darkness
a sort of light, and existence a kind of non existence,
I know not what .metaphysicians might- have thought
of the discovery ; but sure I am, no reader of toler
able understanding would have paid him any compli
ments upon it*. But when he says, that contrariety
is a mixture of causation and resemblance ; and, still
more, when he brings a formal proof of" this most
* Mr HUME bad said, that the only principles of corr-
nexion among ideas are. three, to wit, resemblance, conti
guity in time or place, and cause or effect : Inquiry CM*
cerning Human Understanding , sect. 3* It afterwards oc
curred to him, that contrary ideas have a tendency to intrcr-
duce one another. into the mind. But instead of adding
contrariety to the list of connecting principles, .which he
ought to have done, and which would have been- philoscv
phical, he assumes the metaphysician, and endeavours to
prove his enumeration right, by resolving contrariety, as a
species, into resemblance -and causation, as genera, * con
trariety," says he, " is a connexion among ideas, which may
" perhaps be considered as a mixture of causation and re-
** semblance. Where, two objects are contrary, the one
** destroys the other, i. e. is the cause of its annihilation j
44 and tke idea of the annihilation of an object implies the
** idea of its former existence." Is impossible to make
any sense of this ? Darkness and light are contrary j the
one destroys the other, or is the cause of its annihilation j
and the idea of the annihilation of darkness implies the idea
of its former existence. This is given as a proof, that
darkness partly resembles light, and partly is the r puse of
light. Indeed! But, O st sic omnia dixissei! .This" is a
harmless absurdity.
t HAP. II. AN ESSAY OF TRUTH. 99
sage remark, he imposes on us by the solemnity of
the expression ; we conclude, that " more is meant
" than meets the ear ;" and begin to fancy, not that
the author is absurd or unintelligible, but that we
have not sagacity enough to discover his meaning.
It were tedious to reckon up one half of the impro
prieties and errors which have been introduced into
the philosophy of human nature, by the indefinite
application of the words, idea, impression., perception,
sensation, &c. Nay, it is well known, that BER
KELEY S pretended proof of the non-existence of mat
ter, at which common sense stood aghast for many
years, has no better foundation, than the ambiguous
use of a word. He who considers these things, will
not be much disposed to overvalue metaphysical truth,
(as it is called) when it happens to contradict any of
the natural sentiments of mankind.
la the laws of nature, when thoroughly understood,
there appear no contradictions : It is only in the sys
tems of philosophers that reason and common sense
are at variance. No man of common sense ever did
or could believe, that the horse he saw coming to
wards him at full gallop, was an idea in his mind, and
nothing else ; no thief was ever such a fool as to
plead in his own defence, that his crime was necessary
and unavoidable, for that man is born to pick pockets
as the sparks fly upward. When Reason invades
the Rights of Common Sense, and presumes to. arraign
that authority by which she herself acts, nonsense
and confusion must of necessity ensue ; science will
soon come to have neither head nor tail, beginning
nor end ; philosophy will grow contemptible ; and its
adherents, far from being treated, as in former times,
upon the footing of conjurors, will be thought by the
vulgar, and by every man of sense, to be little better
than downright fools.
ico AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART u.
PART II.
ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE PRECEDING DOC
TRINE, WITH INFERENCES.
BUT now a difficulty occurs,,., which it is not per
haps easy to solve. Granting what is said above-
to be true ;, that all legitimate reasoning, whether
of certain or of probable evidence., does finally re.
solve itself into principles of common sense, which
we must admit as certain, or as probable, upon their
own authority ; that therefore common sense is the
foundation and the standard of all just reasoning;
and that the genuine sentiments of nature are never
erroneous : yet, by what criterion shall we know
a sentiment of nature from a prejudice of education,
a dictate of common sense from the fallacy of an in
veterate opinion ? Must every principle be admitted
as true, which we believe without being able to as
sign a reason ? then where is our security against
prejudice and implicit faith ! Or must every princi
ple that seems intuitively certain, or intuitively pro
bable, be reasoned upon, that we may know whe
ther it be really what it seems ? then where our se
curity against the abuse so much insisting on, of
subjecting common sense to the test of reasoning !
At what point must reason stop in its investiga-
dons, and the dictates of common sense be admitted
as decisive and final ?
It is much to be regretted, that this matter has.
been so little attended to : for a full and satisfactory,
discussion of it would do more real service to the
philosophy of human nature, than all the system. -a
of logic in the world ; would at once exalt pneuma
tology. to the dignity of science, by settling, it on a-
firm and unchangeable foundation ; and would go a.
great way to banish sophistry from science, and rid
the world of scepticism. This is indeed the grand
desideratum in logic j of no less importance to tha.;-
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 10 t
moral sciences, than the discovery of the longitude
to navigation. That I shall fully solve this difficul
ty, I am not so vain, nor so ignorant, as to imagine.
But I humbly hope I shall be able to throw some
light on the subject, and contribute a little to facili
tate the progress of those who may hereafter engage
in the same pursuit. If I can accomplish even this,
I shall do a service to truth, philosophy, ?.nd man-,
kind : if I should be thought to fail, there is yet
something meritorious in the attempt. To have set
the example, may be of consequence.
I shall endeavour to conduct the reader to the
conclusion J have come to on this subject, by the
same steps that led me thither ; a method which I
presume will be more perspicuous, and more satis
fying, than if I were first to lay down a theory, and
then assign the reasons. By the way, I cannot help
expressing a wish, that this method of investiga
tion were less uncommon, and that philosophers
would sometimes explain to us, not only their dis
coveries, but also the process of thought and expe
riment, whether accidental or intentional, by which
they were led to them.
If the boundary of Reason and Common Sense
had never been settled in ar- science, I would aban
don my present scheme as altogether desperate. But
when I reflect, that in some of the sciences it has
been long settled, with the utmost accuracy, and to
universal satisfaction, I conceive better hopes; and
flatter myself, that it may perhaps be possible to fix
it even in the philosophy of the mind. The sciences
in which this boundary has been long settled and ac
knowledged, are, mathematics, and natural philoso
phy ; and it is remarkable, that more truth .has been
discovered in those sciences than in any other. Now,
there is not a more effectual way of learning the
rules of any art, than by attending to the practice of
those who have performed in it most successfully :
a maxim which, I suppose, h no less applicable to
102 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
the art of investigating truth, than to the mechani
cal and the fine arts. Let us see, then, whether, by-
attending to the practice of mathematicians and na
tural philosophers, as contrasted with the practice
of those who have treated of the human mind, we
can make any discoveries preparatory to the solution
of this difficulty.
CHAP. I.
Confirmation of this Theory from the Practice of
Mathematicians and Natural Philosophers.
SECT. I.
r lpHAT the distinction between Reason and Com-
* mon Sense, as here explained, is acknowledged
by mathematicians, we have already shown *. They
have been wise enough to trust to the dictates of
common sense, and to take that for truth which
they were tinder a necessity of believing, even tho
it was not in their power to prove it by argument.
When a mathematician arrives, in the course of his
reasoning, at a principle which he must believe, and
which is of itself so evident, that no arguments
could either illustrate or-enforce it, he then knows,
that his reason can carry him no further, and he sits
down contented : and if he can satisfy himself, that
the whole investigation is fairly conducted, and does
indeed terminate in this self-evident principle, he is
persuaded, that his conclusion is true, and cannot
possibly be false. Whereas the modern sceptics,
from a strange conceit, that the dictates of their un
derstanding are fallacious, and that nature has her
roguish emissaries in every corner, commissioned
and sworn to play tricks with poor mortals, cannot
find in their heart to admit any thing as truth, upon
the bare authority of their common sense. It is
* See part 1. chap. 2. sect. 1.
CHAP. 1. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 103
doubtless a great advantage to geometry, that its
first principles are so few, its ideas so distinct, and
its language so definite. Yet a captious and para
doxical wrangler might, by dint of sophistry, in
volve the principles even of this science in confusion,
provided he thought it worth his while *. But geo
metrical paradoxes would not rouse the attention of
the public ; whereas moral paradoxes, when men
begin to look about for arguments in vindication of
impiety, debauchery, and injustice, become wonder
fully interesting, and can hardly fail of a powerful
and numerous patronage. The corrupt judge ; the
prostituted courtier ; the statesman who enriches
himself by the plunder and blood of his country ;
the pettifogger, who fattens on the spoils of the fa
therless and widow; the oppressor, who, to pamper
his own beastly appetite, abandons the deserving 1
peasant to beggary and despair ; the hypocrite, the
debauchee, the gamester, the blasphemer, prick up
their ears when they are told, that a celebrated
author has written a book full of such comfortable
doctrines as the following : That justice is not a
natural, but an artificial virtue, depending wholly
on the arbitrary institutions of menf, and, previous
to the establishment of civil society, not at all in
cumbent ; That moral, intellectual, and corporeal
virtues, are all of the same kind J ; in other words,
That to want honesty, to want understanding, and to
want a leg, are equally the objects of moral disap
probation ; and therefore that it is no more a man s
duty to be grateful or pious, than to have the genius
of Homer, or the strength and beauty of Achilles :
* The author of the Treatise of Human Nature has ac~
tually attempted this in his first volume : but finding, no
doubt, that the public would not tsike any concern in that
part of his system, he has not republished it in his ES
SAYS.
f Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 3. p. 37.
t Ibid. vol. 3. part 3. sect. 4,
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART If.
That every human action is necessary, and could
not have been different from what it is t : That
when we speak of power as an attribute of any be
ing, God himself not excepted, we use words with
out meaning : That we can form no idea of power,
nor of any being endued with any power, much less
of one endued with infinite power ; and that we can
never have reason to believe, that any object, or qua
lity of an object, exists, of which we cannot form an
idea * : That it is unreasonable to believe God to
be infinitely wise and good, while there is any e-
vil or disorder in the universe ; and that we have no
good reason to think, that the universe proceeds
from a cause f : That the external material world
does not. exist ,J ; and that if the exteinal world be
once called in doubt as to its existence, we shall be
at a loss to find arguments by which we may prove
the Being of God, or any of his attributes || :
That those who believe any thing certainly are
fools ** : That adultery must be practised, if men
would obtain all the advantages of life ; that, if ge
nerally practised, it would soon cease to be scanda
lous ; and that, if practised secretly and frequently,
it would by degrees come to be thought no crime at
all * : That the question concerning the substance
of the soul is unintelligible f : That matter and mo
tion may often be regarded as the cause of thought;): :
J Hume s Essays, vol. 2. p. 91. edit. 1767.
Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 284. 302.
432. &c.
f Hume s Essay on a Particular Providence and Fu
ture State.
| Berkeley s and Hume s Works passim.
|| Hume s Essay on the Academical or Sceptical Phi
losophy, part 1.
** Treatise on Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 468.
* Hume s Essays, vol. 2. p. 409. edit. 1767.
f Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 434.
t Id. ibid.
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 105
That the soul of man becomes every different mo
ment a different being |l : so that the actions I per
formed last year, or yesterday, or this morning,
whether virtuous or vicious, are no more imputable
to me, than the virtues of Aristides are imputable
to Nero, or the crimes of Nero to the MAN of
Ross.
I know no geometrical axiom, more perspicuous,
more evident, more generally acknowledged, than
this proposition, (which every man believes of him
self,) " My body exists ; yet this has been denied,
and volumes written to prove it false. Who will
pretend to set bounds to this spirit of scv Q pticism
and sophistry ? Where are the principles that can
stop its progress, when it has already attacked the
existence, both of the human bodv, and of the hu
man soul ? When it denies, and attempts to disprove
this, I cannot see why it may not as well deny a
whole to be greater than a part^ the radii of the
same circle to be equal to one another ; ?;nd affirm,
that two right lines do contain a space, and that it is
possible for the same thing to be and not to be.
Had our sceptics been consulted when trie first
geometrical institutions were compiled, they would
have given a strange turn to the face of affairs.
They would have demanded reasons for the belief of
every axiom ; and as none could have been given,,
would have suspected a fallacy ; and probably (for
the art of metaphysical book-making is not of diffi
cult attainment) have made books to prove a pri
ori, that an axiom, from its very nature cannot be
true ; or at least that we cannot with certainty pro
nounce whether it is so or not. " Take heed to
" yourselves, gentlemen ; you are going to lay the
< foundations of a science ; be careful to lay them as
" deep as possible. Let the love of doubt and dis-
" putation animate you to invincible perseverance.
* You must go deeper ; truth (if there be any such
II Id. vol. 1. p. 48..
IC6 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. TART II.
<f thing) loves profundity and darkness. Hitherto
(t I see you quite distinctly ; and, Jet me tell you,
" that is a strong presumption against your method
<( of operation. I would not give twopence for that
* philosophy which is obvious and intelligible.*
" Tear up that prejudice, that I may see what sup-
" ports it. 1 see you cannot move it, and therefore
" am violently disposed to question its stability ; you
" cannot pierce it, therefore who knows but it may
" be made of unsound materials ? There is no trus-
" ting to appearances. It is the glory of a philosopher
" to doubt ; yea, he must doubt, both when he is
" doubtful, and when he is not doubtful f. Some-
" times, indeed, we philosophers are absolutely
" and necessarily determined to live, and talk, and
** act, like ether people, and to believe the exist-
* ence both of ourselves and of others : but to this
" absolute and necessary determination we ought
" not to submit, but in every incident of life still to
" preserve cur scepticism. Yes, friend, I tell you,
4< we ought still to do what is contrary to that to
" which we are absolutely and necessarily determin-
* ed J. I sec you preparing to speak, but I tell
" you once for all, that if you reason or believe any
* See Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 3, 4.
f * A true sceptic will be diffident of his philosopbi-
* cal doubts, as well as cf his philosophical conviction."
Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 414.
t " I dine, I play a game at hack-gammon, I converse
" and am merry with my friends ; and when, after three
* 4 or four hours amusement, I would return to these spec-
* ulations, they appear so cold, so strained, and so ridicu-
" lous that I cannot find in my heart to, enter into them
** ny further. Here then I find myself absolutely and
* necessarily determined to live, and talk, and set like
4< other pecple in the common affairs of life." Trea
tise of Human Nature, vo/. 1. /. 467.
44 In all the incidents of life we ought still to preserve
44 cur scepticism. If we believe that fire warms, or water
* refreshes tis only because it costs us too much pains to
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 107
" thing certainly you are a fool*. Good Sir, hoxv
** deep must we dig ? Is not this a sure foundation ?
I have no reason to think so, as I cannot see
* what is under it. Then we must dig downward
** in infinitum ! And why not ? You think you are
" arrived at certainty. This very conceit of yours
** is a proof that you have not gone deep enough ;
" for you must know, that the understanding, when
" it acts alone, and according to its most general
principles, entirely subverts itself, and leaves not
* the lowest degree of evidence in any proposition,
iV either in philosophy or common lifef; This to
" the illiterate vulgar may seem as great a contra-
** diction or paradox, as if we were to talk of a
" man s jumping down his own throat : but we
* c whose brains are heated with metaphysic, are not
* startled at paradoxes or contradictions, because we
** are ready to reject aril belief and reasoning, and
" can look upon no opinion even as more probable or
" more likely than another $, You are no true phi-
I 3^ iosopher
" think otherwise. Nay, if we are philosophers, it ought
" only to be upon sceptical principles."
Id. p. 469.
* " If I must be a fool, as all those who reason or believe
" any thing certainly are, my follies shall at least be na-
" tural and agreeable." Id. p. 468;
The inaccuracy of the expression makes- it difficult to
guess, whether Mr HUME means, that all who believe
any thing are certainly fools, or that all are fools who be
lieve any thing to be certain. But whether we suppose it
to have the former meaning, or the latter, is a thing ef
small concern.
f Verbatim from Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1 p
464, 465.
J ^ The intense view of these manifold contradictions
" and imperfections inhuman reason, has so wrought up-
" on me^ and heated my brain, that I am ready to reject .
" all belief and reasoning, and can look upon no opinion
" even as more probable or likely than another.
Treatise of Human Nature, i>c/, I, /. 466,
JOS AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. FRAT If.
* losopher if you either begin or end your inquiries
* with the belief of any thing. Well, Sir, you may
* doubt and dispute as long as you please ; but I
" believe that 1 am come to a sure foundation : here
" therefore will I begin to build, for I am certain
" there can be no danger in trusting to the stability
" of that which is immoveable. Certain ! Poor
" credulous fool ! Hark ye, sirrah ! you may be
** what the vulgar call an honest man, and a good
* workman ; but I am certain (I mean I am in
* doubt whether I may not be certain J that you are
* no philosopher. Philosopher indeed ! to take a
w< thing of such consequence for granted, without
*- proof, without examination ! I hold you four to
** one, that I shall demonstrate a priori, that this
** same edifice of yours will be good for nothing.
f< I am inclined to think, that we live in too early a
*< period to discover ANY PRINCIPLES that will bear
** the examination of the latest posterity pthe world,
" Sir, is not yet arrived at the years of discretion :
"* it will be time enough, two or three thousand
" years hence, for men to begin to dogmatize, and af-
* firm, that two and two are four, that a triangle is
** not a square, that the radii of the same circle are
** equal, that a whole is greater than one of its parts ;
that ingratitude and murder are crimes, that bene-
*" volence, justice, and fortitude, are virtues ; that
" fire burns, that the sun shines, that human crea-
** tures exist, or that there is such a thing as exis-
" tence. These are points which our posterity, if
4i they be wise, will very probably reject *. These
* " Perhaps we are still in too early an age of the
li world, to discover any principles \vhich will bear the
c< examination of the latest posterity."
Treatise of Human Nature, voL 1. p. 473.
Some perhaps may blame me for laying any stress on
detached sentences, and for understanding these strong ex
pressions in a strict signification. But it is not my inten-
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, 109
" are points, which if they do not reject, they will
" be arrant fools. This is my judgment, and I am
te certain it is right. I maintain, indeed, that man-
tl kind are certain of nothing : but 1 maintain, not-
" withstanding, that my own opinions are true. And
" if any body is ill-natured enough to call this a c n-
" tradiction, I protest against his judgment, and -- nee
" for all declare, that I mean not either to contradict
" myself, or to acknowledge myself guilty of self-
" contradiction."
I am well aware, that mathematical certainty is
not to be expected in any science but mathematics.
But I suppose that in every science, some kind of
certainty is attainable, or something at least sufficient
to command belief : and whether this r^st on self-
evident axioms, or on the evidence of sense, memory
or testimony, it is still certain to me, if I feel that
I must believe it. And in every science, as well as
in geometry, I presume it would be inconsistent both
with
tion to take any unfair advantages. I should willingly im
pute these absurd sentences and expressions to the author s
inadvertency : but then I must impute the whole system to
the same cause i-for they imply nothing that is not again and
again inculcated, either directly or indirectly, in Mr HUME S
writings. It is true some of them are self contradictory,
and all of them strongly display the futility cf this pre
tended science. But who is to blame for this ? They who
allow themselves to contradict matter cf fact, either in
conversation or writing, will find it no easy matter to a-
void contradicting themselves. Again, if this science be
so useless, and if its inutility be sometimes acknowledged
even by Mr HUME himself, why, it may be said, so much
zeal in confuting it ? For this plain reason, Because it is
immoral and pernicious, as well as unprofitable and absurd ;
and because, with all its absurdity, it has been approved
and admired by sciolists, fops, and profligates , and been
the occasion of much evil to individuals, and of much de
triment as well as danger to society.
AW ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
with logic and good sense, to take that for an ulti
mate principle, which forces our belief by its own in
trinsic evidence, and which cannot by any reasoning
be rendered more evident.
SECT. II.
TN natural philosophy, the evidence of sense and
^ mathematical evidence go hand in hand ; and the
one produces conviction as effectually as the other.
A natural philosopher would make a poor figure,
should he take it in his head to disbelieve or distrust
the evidence of his senses. The time was, indeed,
when matters were on a different footing ; when phy
sical truths \vere made out, not by experiment and
observation, but by dint of syllogism, or in the more
compendious way of ipse -dixit. But natural philo
sophy W-as then, what the philosophy of the mind in
the hands of our sceptics is now, a system of sophisms,
contrived for the vindication of false theories.
That natural philosophers never question the evi
dence of sense,, nor seek either to disprove or to cor
rect it by reasoning, is a position, which to many
may at first sight seem disputable. I foresee several
objections, but shall content myself with examining
two of the most important. And these I shall set
in such a light, as will, I hope, show them to be in
conclusive, and at the same time preclude all other
objections.
i. Do we not, (it will be said), both in our phy
sical observations, and in the common affairs of life,
reject the evidence of sight in regard to the magni
tude, extension, figure and distance of visible objects,
and trust to that of touch,, which we know to be less
fallacious ? 1 see two buildings on the top of yonder
mountain j they seem to my eyes to be only three or
four feet asunder, of a round shape, and not larger
than my two thumbs : but I have been at the place,
and haying ascertained their distance, size ; and figure,
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. Itl
by touch or mensuration, I know, that they are
square towers, forty yards asunder, and fifty feet high.
Do I not in this case reject the evidence of my sight
as fallacious, and trust to that of touch ? And what
is it but reason that induces me to do so ? How then
can it be said, that from the evidence of sense there
is no appeal to reason ? It will, however, be easy to
show, that in this instance we distrust neither sight;
nor touch, but believe implicitly in both ; not because
we can coniirm their evidence by reasoning, but be
cause the law of our nature will not permit us to
disbelieve their evidence.
Do you perceive these two objects when you shut
your eyes ? No. It is, then, by your sight only that
you perceive them ? It is. Does your sight per
ceive any thing in these two objects, but a certain
visible magnitude, extension and figure ? No. Do
you believe that these towers really appear to your
eyes round, three feet asunder, and of the size of
your thumbs? Yes, I believe they have that ap
pearance to my eyes And do you not also believe
that, to the eyes, of all men who see as you do,
and look at these objects from the place in which
you now stand, they have the very same appearance ?
I have no reason to think otherwise. You believe,
then, that the visible magnitude, distance and shape,
of these towers, is what it appears to be ? or do you
think that your eyes see wrong ? Be sure, the visible
magnitude, figure and distance, are not different from
what I perceive them to be. But how do you know
that what you perceive by sight either exists, or is
what it appears to be? Not by reasoning, but by
instinct.
Of the visible magnitude, extension, and figure,,
our eyes give us a true perception. It is a law of
nature, That while visible objects retire from the
eye, the visible magnitude becomes less as the distance
becomes greater : and the proportion between the in
creasing distance and the decreasing visible magnitude
n.2 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. ?ART u.
is so well known, that the visible magnitude of any
given object placed at a given distance, may be as
certained with geometrical exactness. The true visi
ble magnitude of objects is therefore a fixed and de
terminate thing ; that is, the visible magnitude of the
same object, at the same distance, is always the same :
we believe, that if is what our eyes perceive it to
be ; if we did not, the art of perspective would be im
possible ; at least we could not acknowledge, that
there is any truth in that art.
But the object (you reply) seems no bigger than
your thumb ; and you believe it to be fifty feet high ;
how is that sensation reconcileable with this belief ?
You may easily reconcile them, by recollecting,
("what is obvious enough,) that the object of your
belief is the tangible magnitude ; that of your sensa
tion, the visible. The visible magnitude is a per
ception of sense ; and we have seen already, that it
is conceived to be a true, and not a fallacious percep
tion : the tangible magnitude you do not at present
perceive by sense ; you only remember it j or perhaps
you infer it from the visible, in consequence of your
knowledge of the laws of perspective. When we
see a lump of salt at a little distance, we may per
haps take it for sugar. Is this a false sensation ? it
is a proof, either that our taste, or that our sight,
is fallacious ? No: this is only an erroneous opinion
formed upon a true sensation. A false sensation wer
cannot suppose it to be, without supposing that tastes-
are perceived by the eyes. And you cannot believe
your opinion of the magnitude of these towers to be
a false sensation* except you believe that tangible
qualities are perceived by sight. When we speak
of the magnitude of objects, we generally mean the
tangible magnitude, which is no more an object of
sight than of hearing. For it is demonstrated in op
tics, that a person endued with sight, but so fettered
from his birth as to have no opportunity ot gaining
experience by touch, could never form any distinct-
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH,
notion of the distance, extension, magnitude, or figure
of any thing. ,These are perceptions, not of sight,
but of touch. We judge of them indeed from the
.visible .appearance ; but it is only in consequence of
our having found, that certain changes in the visible
appearance do always accompany, and intimate, cer
tain changes in the tangible distance, magnitude, and
figure. Visible magnitude, and tangible magnitude
are quite .different things ; the former changes with
.every change of distance, the .latter .is always the
same ; the one is perceived by one sense, the other
by another. So that when you say, I see. a tower
two miles off, which appears no bigger .than my
thumb, and yet I believe it to be a thousand times
bigger than my whole body ; your sensation is per.
fectly consistent with your belief : the contrariety is
merely verbal ; for the word bigger, in the first clause
refers to visible, in -the second, to tangible magni
tude. There is here no more real inconsistency than
if you were to say, I see a conical body of a white
colour, acd I believe it to have a sweet taste. If
there be any difficulty in conceiving this, it must a-
rise from our being more apt to confound the objects
of sight and touch, than those of any other two
senses. As the knowledge of tangible qualities is
of more consequence to our happiness and preserva
tion, than the knowledge of visible appearances which
in themselves can do neither good nor harm ; \\e fix
our principal attention on the tangible magnitude,
the visible appearance serving only as a sign by
which we judge of it : the mind makes an instantane
ous transition from the visible appearance, which it
overlooks, to the tangible quality, on which it fixeth
its attention j and the sign is as little attended to, in
comparison of the thing signified, as the shape of
written characters, or the sound of articulate voices,
in comparison of the ideas which the writer qr speaker
means to communicate.
-114 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART IT.
But all men Cit may be said) do not thus distin
guish between visible and tangible magnitude. Many
philosophers have affirmed, and the vulgar still be
lieve, that magnitude is a sensation both of sight
and touch : those people, therefore, when sensible of
the diminished visible appearance of the distant ob
ject, must suppose, that the perception they receive
by sight of the magnitude of that object, is really a
false perception ; because different from what they
should receive by touch, or even by sight if the
object were within three yards of their eyes. At
any rate, they must suppose, that what their sight
perceives concerning magnitudes is not always to be
-depended on.; and therefore that their sight is a fal
lacious faculty.
Let this objection have as much weight as you
please ; yet will it not prove, that the evidence of
sense may be either confirmed or confuted by rea
son. Suppose then I perceive real magnitude, both
by sight and touch. I observe, that what my sight
perceives of magnitude is not always consistent,
either vith Jtself, or with the sensations received by
touch from the same object. The same man, with
in the same hour, appears six feet high, and not one
foot high, according as I view him at the distance
of two yards or of two miles. What is to be done
;in this case ? both sensations I cannot believe ? for
-that the man really changes his stature, is altogether
incredible. I believe his stature to be always the
same ; and I find, that to my touch it always ap
pears the same ; and that, when I look at the man
at the distance of a few feet, my visible perception
of his magnitude coincides with my tangible per
ception. I must therefore believe, that what my
sight intimates concerning the magnitude of distant
objects is not to be depended on. But whence a-
rises this belief? Can I prove, by argument, that
the man does not change his stature ? that the sense,
whose perceptions are all consistent, is a true, and
CHAP. i. AN ESSAY o>7 TRUTH. 115
not a fallacious faculty ? or that a sense is not falla
cious, when its perceptions coincide with the percep
tions of another sense ? No, I can prove none of
these points. It is instinct, and not reason, that de
termines me to believe my touch ; it is instinct, and
not reason, that determines me to believe, that visi
ble sensations, when consistent with tangible, are not
fallacious ; and it is either instinct, or reasoning
founded on experience, (that is, on the evidence of
sense), that determines rne to believe the man s sta
ture a permanent, and not a changeable thing. The
evidence of sense is therefore decisive ; from it there
is no appeal to reason : and if I were to become
sceptical in regard to it, I should believe neither the
one sense nor the other ; and of all experience, and
experimental reasoning, I should become equally dis
trustful.
As the experience of an undiscerning or careless
spectator may be confirmed, or corrected, by that of
one who is more attentive, or more sagacious, so the
evidence of au imperfect sense may be corrected by
that of another sense which we conceive to be more
perfect. But the evidence of sense can never be
corrected by any reasoning, except by that which
proceeds on a supposition, that our senses are not
fallacious. And all our notions concerning the per
fection or imperfection of sense are either instinc
tive, and therefore principles of common sense ; or
founded in experience, and therefore ultimately re.
solvable into this maxim, That things are what our
senses represent them.
Lucretius is much puzzled (as his master Epicu
rus had been before him) about the degree of credit
due to our visible perceptions of magnitude. He
justly enough observes, that no pi inciple can be con
futed, except by another more evident principle ;
and, therefore, that the testimony of sense, thaa
which nothing is more evident, cannot be confuted
K
Il6 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
at all * : that the testimony of the nostrils concern
ing odour cannot be corrected or refuted by that of
the eye, nor the eye by the ear, nor the ear by the
touch, nor the touch by the taste ; because each of
these senses hath a set of objects peculiar to itself,
of which the other senses cannot judge, because in
deed they cannot perceive them. All this is ve-ry
well; but there is one thing wanting, which I should
think obvious enough, even to one of Epicurean
principles. Of tastes we judge by the palate only ;
of smell, by the nostrils only ; of sound, by the
earsonly; of colours, by the sight only; of hard
ness, softness, heat, cold, &c. by the touch only ;
but of magnitude we judge both by sight and
* See Diogenes Laertius, book 10. Lucretius de re-
rum natura, lib. 4. ver. 480. This author had sagacity
enough to perceive the absurdity of Pyrrhonism, and to
make several judicious remarks on the nature of evidence.
But in applying these to his own theory, every one knows
that he is by no means consistent. The poem of Lucre
tius is a melancholy spectacle j it is the picture of a gieat
genius in the state of lunacy. Except when the whim of
his sect comes across his imagination, "he argues with pro
priety, perspicuity, and elegance. Pathos of sentiment,
sw r eetness of style, harmony of numbers, and a beauty,
and sometimes a majesty of description, not unworthy of
Virgil, render his poem highly amusir-g, in spite of its ab
surd philosophy. A talent for extensive observation he
seems to have possessed in an -extraordinary degree 5 but
\vherever the peculiar tenets .of Epicureanism are con
cerned, he sees every thing through a false medium. So
fatal is the admission of wrong principles. Persons of the
most exalted undsrstanding have as much need to guard
against them, as those of the meanest capacity. If they
are so imprudent, or so unfortunate as to adopt them,
their superior genius, like the strength of a madman, will
serve no other purpose than to involve them in greater dif-
f>rH es, and give them the power of doing more mis
chief.
CHAP. I. Atf ESSAY ON TRUTH. 1 1 7
touch. In regard to magnitude, we must therefore
believe either our sight, or our touch, or both, or
neither. To believe neither is impossible : if we be
lieve both, we shall contradict ourselves : if we trust
our sight, and not our touch, our belief at one time
will be inconsistent with our belief at another ; we
shall think the same man six feet high, and not one
foot high : we must therefore believe our touch, if
we would exert any consistent belief in regard to
magnitude.
a-. But do we not, in physical experiments ac
knowledge the deceitfulness of sense, when we have
recourse to the telescope and microscope ; and when,
in order to analyse light, which, to our unassisted
sight, appears one uniform uncompounded thing,
we transmit the rays of it through a prism ? I an
swer, this implies the imperfection, not the deceitful*
nvss, of sense. For if I suppose my sight fallacious,
I can no more trust it, when assisted by a- telescope
or microscope, than when unassisted* I cannot
prove, that things are as they appear to- my unas
sisted sight; and lean as little prove, that the things
are as they appear to my sight assisted by glasses.
But is it not agreeable to common sense to be
lieve, that light is one uniform uncompounded thing?
and if so, is not common sense in an error ? and what
can rectify this error but reasoning ? 1 answer, it
is undeniable, that light to the unassisted eye appears
uncompoundeJ and uniform. If from this I infer,
that light is precisely what it appears to be, I form
a. wrong judgment, which I may afterwards rectify,
upon; the evidence of sense,, when I see a ray of light
transmitted through a prism. Here an error of
judgment, or a false inference of reason, is rectified
by my trusting to the evidence of sense ; to which
evidence, instinct, or common sense determines me to
trust.
Bat is it not common sense that leads me to form
this wrong judgment ? Do not all mankind naturally,
K 2
Il8 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
and previously to all influence from education, judge
in the same manner? Did not all philosophers be
fore Newton, and do not all the unlearned to this
day, believe that light is a simple fluid : I answer,
Common Sense teacheth me, and all mankind, to
trust to experience : Experience tells us, that our
unassisted sight, though sufficiently acute for the or
dinary purposes of life, is not acute enough to dis
cern the minute texture of visible objects. If, not
withstanding this experience, we believe, that the
minute texture of light, or of any other visible sub-
stance, is nothing different from that appearance
which we perceive by the naked eye ; then our be
lief contradicts our experience, and consequently is
inconsistent with common sense.
But what if you have had no experience sufficient
to convince you, that your senses are not acute e-
nough to discern the texture of the minute parts of
bodies ? Then it is certain, that I can never attain
this conviction by mere reasoning. If a man were to
reason a priori about the nature of light, he might
chop logic till doomsday, before he convinced me,
that light is compounded of rays of seven different
colours. But if he tell me of experiments which he
has made, or which he knows to have been made,
this is quite another matter. I believe his testimony,
and it makes up for my own want of experience.
When I confide in his veracity, I conceive, and be
lieve, that his senses communicated a true percep
tion ; and that, if I had been in his place, I should
also have been convinced, by the evidence of my sense,
that light is truly compounded of rays of seven dif
ferent colours. But I must repeat, that a supposi
tion of my senses being fallacious, would render me
wholly inaccessible to conviction, both on the one
^ide and on the other.
Suppose a man, on seeing the coloured rays thrown
off from the prism, should think the whole a delusion,
and owing to the nature of the medium through
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. lip
which the light is transmitted, not to the nature of
the light itself ; and should tell me, that he could as
easily believe my face to be of a green colour, be
cause it has that appearance when viewed through a
pair of green spectacles, as that every ray of light
consists of seven distinct colours, because it has that
appearance when transmitted through a prism :-
would it be possible to get the better of this prejudice,
without reasoning ? I answer, it would not : but the
reasoning used must all depend upon experiments ;.
every one of which must be rejected, if the testimony
of sense be not admitted as decisive. I could thinlc
of several expedients, in the way of appeals to sense,
by which it might be possible to reconcile him to the.
Newtonian theory of light; but, in the way of ar
gument, I cannot devise a single one.
On an imperfect view of nature, false opinions may
be formed : but these may be rectified by a more per
fect view ; or, which in many cases will amount to
the same thing, by the testimony of those who have
obtained a more perfect view. The powers of man
operate only within a certain sphere ; and till an ob
ject be brought within that sphere, it is impossible
for them to perceive it. T see a smallx object, which
I know to be a man at the distance of half a mile ;
but cannot discern his complection, whether it be-
black or fair ; nor the colour of his clothes, whether
it be brown, or black, or blue , nor his nose, whether,
it be long or short : I cannot even discern, whether he-
have any nose at all : and his whole body seems to be
of one uniform black colour, Perhaps I am so foolish
as to infer, that therefore the man has no nose ; that
his clothes are black,, and his face of the colour of his
clothes. On going up to him, I discover that he is a
handsome man, of a fair complexion, dressed in blue* .
Surely it is not reasoning that sets me right in this,
instance ; but it is a perfect view of an object that,
rectifies a wrong opinion formed upon an imperfect
view.
K-3
120 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART If,
I hear the sound of a musical instrument at a dis
tance ; but hear it so faintly, that 1 cannot determine
whether it be that of a trumpet, a hautboy, a Ger
man flute, a French horn, or a common flute. I want
to know from what instrument the sound proceeds; and
I have no opportunity of knowing from the infor
mation of others. Shall I stand still where I am,
and reason about it ? no ; that would make me no
wiser. I go forward to the place from whence the
sound seems to come ; and by and by I can perceive,
that the sound is different from that of a French horn
and of a trumpet : but as yet I cannot determine whe
ther it be the sound .of a hautboy or of aiilute. I
go on a little further, and now I plainly distinguish
the sound of a flute ; but perhaps I shall not be able
to know whether it be a German or common flute,
except by means of my other senses, that is, by hand
ling or looking at it.
It is needless to multiply instances for illustrating
the difference between a perfect and an imperfect view
of an object, and for shewing, that the mind trusts
to the former, but distrusts the latter. For obtain
ing a perfect view, (or perfect perception), we some
times employ the same sense in a nearer situation ;
sometimes we make use of instruments, as ear-trum
pets, spectacles, microscopes, telescopes ; sometimes
we have recourse to the testimony of our other senses,
or of the senses of other men : in a word, we rectify or
ascertain the evidence of sense by the evidence of
sense : but we never subject the evidence of sense to
the cognisance of reason ; for in sensations that are
imperfect or indistinct, reasoning could neither supply
what is deficient, nor ascertain what is indefinite.
Oar internal, as well as external senses, may be,
and often are, imposed upon, by inaccurate views
cf their objects. We may in sincerity of heart ap
plaud, and afterwards condemn the same perso-i for
the same action, according to the different lights in
which that action is presented to our moral faculty.
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH.
Just now I hear a report, that a human body is found
dead in the neighbouring fields, with marks of vio
lence upon it. Here a confused suspicion arises in
my mind of murder committed ; but my conscience
suspends its judgment till the true state of the case
be better known : I am not as yet in a condition to
perceive those qualities of this event which ascertain
the morality of the action ; no more than I can per
ceive the beauty or deformity of a face while it is
veiled, or at too great distance. A passenger informs
me, that a person has been apprehended who con
fesses himself the murderer ; my moral faculty in
stantly suggests, that this person has committed a
crime worthy of a most severe and exemplary punish
ment. By and by I learn, from what I think good
authority, that my former information is false, for
that the man now dead had made an unprovoked as
sault on the other, who was thus driven to the ne
cessity of killing him in self-defence ; my con
science immediatci^ acquits the man-slayer. I send
a messenger to make particular enquiry into this
affair ; who brings word that the man was acciden
tally killed by a fowler shooting at a bird,, who, be
fore he fired, had been at all possible pains to dis
cover whether any human creature was in the way ;
but that the deceased was in such a situation that he
could not be discovered. I regret the accident ; but
I blame neither party. Afterwards I learn, that
this fowler was a careless fellow, and though he had
no b?;d intention, was not at due pains to observe
whether any human creature would be hurt by his
firing. I blame his negligence with great severity,,
but I cannot charge him with guilt so enormous as
that of murder. Here my moral faculty passes se
veral different judgments on tie same action ; and each
of them is right, and will be in its turn believed to
be right, and trusted to accordingly, as long as the
information which gave rise to it is believed to be
true. I say tbe saf?2e action, not the same intention ,
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART ir.
a different intentjon appears in the man-slayer from
each information ; and it is only the intention and af
fections that the moral faculty condemns or approves-.
To discover the intention wherewith actions are per
formed, reasoning is often necessary ; but the design
of such reasoning, is not to sway or inform the con
science, but only to ascertain those circumstances or
qualities of the action from which the intention of
the agent may appear. When this becomes manifest
the conscience of mankind immediately and intui
tively declares it to be virtuous, or vitious, or inno^-
cent. These different judgments of the moral facul
ty are so far from proving it fallacious, that they
prove the contrary ; at least this faculty would bs
extremely fallacious, and absolutely useless, if, in
the case now supposed, it did not form different judg
ments. While the intention of the agent is wholly
unknown, an action is upon the same footing in re
gard to its morality, as a human face, in regard to
its beauty, while it is veiled, or at too great distance,
By removing the veil, or walking up to the object,
we perceive its beauty and features ; and by reason
ing, or by information concerning the circumstances
of the action, we are enabled to discover or infer the
intention of the agent. The act of removing the
veil, or of walking up to the object, has no effect en
the eye ; nor has the reasoning any effect on the con*
science. While we view an object through an im
pure or unequal medium, through a pair of green
spectacles, or an uneven pane of glass, we see it dis
coloured or distorted ; just so, when misrepresented,
a good action may seem evil, and an evil action good.
If we be suspicious of the representation, if we be
aware of the improper medium, we distrust the ap
pearance accordingly ;. if not, we do, and must believe
it genuine. It is by reasoning from our experience
of human actions and their causes, or by the testi
mony of credible witnesses, that we detect misrepre
sentations concerning moral conduct 5 and it is also
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 12$
by the experience of our own senses, or by our be
lief in those who have had such experience, that we
become sensible of inequalities or obscurities in the
medium through which we contemplate visible ob
jects. In either case the evidence of sense is admit
ted as finally decisive. A distempered sense,,as well
as an^ impure or unequal medium, may doubtless
communicate false sensations ; but we are never im
posed upon by them in matters of consequence. A
person in a fever may think honey bitter, and the
smell of a rose offensive ; but the delusion is of so
short continuance, and of so singular a kind, that it
can do no harm, either to him, or to the cause of
truth. To a jaundiced eye, the whole creation may
seem tinctured with yellow ; but the patient s former
experience, and his belief in the testimony of others,
who assure him, that they perceive no alteration in
the colour of bodies, and that the alteration he per
ceives is a common attendant on his disease, \vill suf
ficiently guard him against mistakes. If he were to
distrust the evidence of sense, he could believe
neither his own experience nor their testimony.
He corrects, or at least becomes sensible of the false
sensation, by means of sensations formerly received
ivhen he was in health ; that is, he corrects the evi
dence of an ill-informed sense by that of a well-in
formed sense, or by the declaration of those whose
senses he believes to be better informed than his
own. Still it is plain, that from the evidence of
sense there can be no appeal to reason.
We conclude, therefore, that in natural philosophy
our sensations are not supposed fallacious, and that
reasoning is not carried beyond the principles of com
mon sense. And yet in this science full scope is
given to impartial investigation. If, after the first
experimental process, you suspect that the object
may be set in a still fairer light, I know no law in
logic, or in good sense, that can or ought to hinder
you from making a new trial : but if this new trial
124 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. FART II.
turn to account ; if the object still appear the same,
or if it appear less distinct than before, it wer - folly
not to remain satisfied with the first trial. Newton
transmitted one of the refracted primitive colours
through a second prism, thinking it not impost,, u : e
that tljus colour might resolve itself into other still
more simple, but finding it remain unaltered, he was
satisfied that the primitive colours are not com pound
ed, but simple, and that the experimental process had
already been carried far enough. I take in my hand
a perspective glass, whose tube may be lengthened
and shortened at pleasure ; and I am to find out by
my own industry, that precise length at which the
maker designed it should be used in looking at dis
tant objects. I make several trials to no purpose ;
the distant object appears not at all, or but very con
fusedly. I hold one end of the perspective at my
eye with one hand, and with the other I gradually
shorten the tube, having first drawn it out to its
greatest length. At first all is confusion ; now I can
discern the inequalities of the mountains in the hori
zon ; now the object I am in quest of begins to ap
pear ; it becomes less and less confused ; I see it dis
tinctly. I continue to shorten the tube ; the object
loses its distinct appearance, and begins to relapse
into its former obscurity. After many trials, I find
that my perspective exhibits no distinct appearance
except when it is of one particular length. Here
then I fix ; I have adjusted, the glasses according to
the intentio i of the maker ; and I believe that the
distinct appearance is an accurate representation of
the distant obj-ect, or at least more accurate than any
of the confused appearances ; of which I believe, that
they come the nearer to truth the more they ap
proach to distinctness, and that the most confused
representations are the most false.
It was not by reasoning about the fallacy of the
senses, and prosecuting a train of argument beyond
the principles of common sense, that. men discovered
CHAP. F. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 1.2$
the tru svstetn of the world. In the earlier ages,
when they imagined the sun to be little bigger than
the mountain beyond which he disappeared, it was
absurd to think of the earth revolving round him.
Bat in process of time, ingenious men, who applied
themselves to the observation of the heavenly bo
dies, not with a view to confute popular errors, for
they could not as yet even suspect the vulgar opi
nion to be erroneous, bu-t merejy to. gratify their own
laudihle curiosity, began to conceive more exalted
notions of the mundane system. They soon distin
guished the planets from the fixed stars, by observ
ing the former to be more variable in their appear
ances. After a long succession of years, employed,
not in reasoning, but attentive observation, they
came at last to understand the motions of the sun
and moon so well, that, to the utter astonishment of
the vulgar, they began to calculate eclipses: a de
gree of knowledge they could not attain, without be
ing convinced, that the sun and moon are very large
bodies, placed at very gjreat distances from the earth,
the former much larger, and more remote, than the
latter. Thus far it is impossible to shew, that any
reasoning had been employed by those ancient as
tronomers, either to prove, or to disprove, the evi
dence of the senses. On the contrary, they must all
along have taken it for granted, that . the senses are
not fallacious ; supposing only, (what it is certainly-
agreeable to common sense to suppose), that the ex
perience of a diligent observer is more to be depen
ded on than that of the inattentive .multitude. As
men grew more and more acquainted with the motions
and appearances of the heavenly bodies, they became
more and more sensible, that the sun, earth, and
planets, bear some very peculiar relation to one a-
nother : and having learned from the phenomena of
eclipses, and some other natural appearances, that
the sun is bigger than the earth *, they might,
* Heraclitus maintained, that the sun is but a foot
broad 5 Anaxagoras, that he is much. larger than the
J26 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
without absurdity, begin to suspect, that possibly
the sun might be the centre round which the earth
and other planets revolve ^especially considering the
magnificence ot that glorious luminary, and the won
derful and delightful effects produced by the influ
ence of his beams, while at the same time he seems
not to derive any advantage from the earth, or other
planets. But if the matter had been carried no fur
ther, no reasoning from these circumstances could
ever have amounted to a proof of the point in ques
tion, tnough it might breed a faint presumption in
its favour. For still the evidence of sense seemed
to contradict it ; an evidence which nothing can dis
prove, but the evidence of sense placed in circum
stances more favourable to accurate observation.
The invention of optical glasses did at last furnish
the means of making experiments with regard to
this matter, and of putting man in circumstances
more favourable to accurate observation ; and thus
the point was brought to the test of common sense.
And r.ow, we not only know:, that the Copernican
theory is true, for every person who understands it
is convinced of its truth ; but we also know to what
causes the universal belief of the contrary doctrine
is to be ascribed. We know that men, considering
the remote situation of our earth, and the imperfec
tion of our senses, could not have judged otherwise
than they did, till that imperfection was remedied,
either by accuracy of observation, or by the inven
tion of optical instruments. We speak not of reve
lation 5 which has indeed been vouchsafed to man
country of Peloponnesus ^ and Epicurus, that he is no
bigger than he appears to the eye. But the astronomers p
antiquity maintained, that he is bigger than the earth j
eight times, according to the Egyptians , eighteen times,
according to Eratosthenes j three hundred times, accord
ing to Cleomedfes j one thousand and fifty times, accord
ing to Hi^parchus - ? and fifty -nine thousand three hundred
add nineteen times, according to Possidonius.
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 127
fol* the regulation of his moral conduct ; but which
it would be presumption to expect or desire, mere
ly for the gratification of curiosity.
It is evident, from what has been said, that in
natural philosophy, as well as in mathematics, no
argumentation is prosecuted beyond self-evident
principles ; that as in the latter all reasoning termi
nates in intuition, so in the former all reasoning ter
minates in the evidence of sense. And as, in ma~
thematics, that is accounted an intuitive axiom, which
is of itself so clear and evident, that it cannot be il
lustrated or inforced by any medium of proof, and
which must be believed, and is in fact believed by
all on its own authority ; so, in natural philosophy,
that is accounted an ultimate principle, undeniable
and unquestionable, which is supported by the evi
dence of a well-informed sense, placed so as to per
ceive its object. In mathematics, that is accounted
false doctrine which is inconsistent with any self-
evident principle ; in natural philosophy, that is re
jected which contradicts matter of fact, or, in other
words, which is repugnant to the appearances of
things as perceived by external sense.
Regulated by this criterion of truth, mathematics
and natural philosophy have become of all sciences
the most respectable in point of certainty. Hence
I am encouraged to hope, that if the same criterion
were universally adopted in the philosophy of the ,
mind, the science of human nature, instead of being,
as at present, a chaos of uncertainty and contradiction,
would acquire a considerable degree of certainty, per
spicuity, and order. If truth be at all attainable in
this science, ("and if it is not attainable, why should
we trouble our heads about it?) surely it must be at
tained by the same means as in those other sciences.
For of the eternal relations and fitnesses of things,
we know nothing : all that we know of truth and
falsehood is, that our constitution determines us in
spine cases to believe, in others to disbelieve j and
L
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART u.
that to us is truth which we feel that we must be
lieve ; and that to us is falsehood which we feel that
we must disbelieve*. There are innumerable truths
with which we are wholly unacquainted ; there are
perhaps some truths which we reject as falsehood :
but, surely, we must both know and believe a truth
before we can acknowledge it as such : and belief is
nothing but a perception, or, if you please, an action
of the mind, the peculiar nature of which we all know
by internal feeling or consciousness, and cannot pos
sibly know in any other way.
I therefore would propose, " That in the philo-
** sophy of, human nature, as well as in physics and
* mathematics., principles be examined according to
" the standard of common sense, and be admitted or
" rejected as they are found to agree or disagree with
" it :" more explicitly, " That those doctrines be
" rejected which contradict matter of fact, that is,
** which are repugnant to the appearances of things,
66 as perceived by external and internal sense ; and that
- e those principles be accounted ultimate, undeniable,
** and unquestionable, which are warranted by the
* evidence of a well-informed sense, placed in cir-
** cumstauces favourable to a distinct perception of
* f its object."
But what do you mean by a well informed sense ?
How shall I know, that any particular faculty of
mine is not defective, depraved, or fallacious ?
Perhaps it is not easy, at least it would furnish mat
ter for too long a digression, to give a full answer
to this question. Nor is it at present necessary;
because it will appear in the sequel, that, however
difficult it may be in some .cases to distinguish a
first principle, yet there are certain marks, by which
those reasonings that tend to the subversion of a
first principle, may be detected, at least in all cases
of importance. However, we shall o^er a remark
* See the next section,.
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 129
or two in answer to the question ; which, though
they should not appear perfectly unexceptionable,
may yet throw light on the subject, and serve to pre
pare the mind of the reader for some things that are
to follow. o
First, then, if I wanted to certify myself concern- o
ing any particular sense or percipient faculty, that
k is neither depraved nor defective, I should attend
to the feelings or sensations communicated by it j
and observe, whether they be clear and definite, and
such as I am, of my own accord, disposed to confide
in without hesitation, as true, genuine, and natural.
If they are such, I should certainly act upon them
till I had some positive reason to think them falla
cious. Secondly, I consider, whether the sensations
received by this faculty be uniformly similar in similar
Circumstances : if they are not, I should suspect,
either that it is now depraved, or was formerly so ;
and if I had no other criterion to direct me, should
be much at a loss to know whether I ought to trust
the former or the latter experience ; perhaps I should
distrust both. If they are uniform, if my present
and my past experience do exactly coincide, t shall
then b? disposed to think them both right Thirdly,
I consider, whether, in acting upon the supposition
that the facalty in question is well-informed, I have
ever been miskd to rny hurt or inconvenience ; if
not, then have I good reason to think, that I was
not mistaken when I formed that supposition, and
that this faculty is really what I supposed^ to be.
Fourthly, If the sensations communicated by this
faculty be incompatible with one another, or irrecon-
cileable to the perceptions of my other faculties, I
should suspect a depravation of the former : for the
laws of nature, as far as my experience goes, are con
sistent ; and I have a natural tendency to believe that
they are universally so. It is therefore a presump
tion, that my faculties are well informed, when the
perceptions of one. are quite consistent witli those of
L 2
130 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II*
the rest, and with one another. In a state of soli
tude 1 must satisfy myself with these criteria ; but
in society I have access to another criterion, which,
in many cases, will be reckoned more decisive than
any o^f these, and which, in concurrence with these,
will be sufficient to banish doubt from every ra
tional mind. 1 compare my sensations and notions
with those of other men ; and if I find a perfect coin
cidence, I shajl then be satisfied that my sensations
are according to the law of human nature, and there
fore right. To illustrate all this by an example :
r>I want to know whether my sense of seeing be a
well-in forTned faculty. First, I have reason to think
that it is ; because my eyes communicatfe to me such
sensations as I, of my own accord, am disposed to
confide in. There is something in my perceptions
of sight ,so distinct, and so definite, that I do not
find myself in the least disposed to doubt whether
things be what my eyes represent tbem. Even the
obscurer informations of this faculty carry along with
them their own evidence, and my belief. I am con
fident, that the sun and moon are round, as they ap
pear to be, that the rainbow is arched, that grass is
green,, snow white and the heavens azure ; and this I
should have believed, though I had passed ail my
days in solitude, and never known any thing of other
animals, or their senses. Secondly, I find that my
notions of the visible qualities of bodies are the same
now they have always been. If this were riot the
case ; if $here I saw greenness yesterday I were to
see yellow to-day, I should, be apt to suppose, that
my sight had suffered some depravation, except I
had reason to think, that the object had really chang
ed colour. Rut indeed we have so strong a tendency
to believe our senses, that I doubt riot but fn such a
case I should be more disposed to suspect a change
in the object than in my eye-sight : much would de
pend on the circumstances of the case. We rub our
eyes when we want to look at any thing with acc.u-
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH.
racy ; for we know by experience, that motes, and
cloudy specks, which may be removed by rubbing,
do sometimes float in the eye, and hurt the sight.
But if the alteration of the visible qualities in the
external object be such as we have never experienced
from a depravation of the organ, we should be in
clined to trust our eye-sight, rather than to suppose
that the external object has remained unaltered
Thirdly, no evil consequence has ever happened to
me when acting upon the supposition, that my fa
culty of seeing is a well informed sense : whereas, if
if I were to act on the contrary supposition,
I should soon have cause to regret my scepticism. I
see a post in my way ; by turning a little aside, I
pass it unhurt : but if I had supposed my sight falla
cious, and gone straight forward, a bloody nose, or
something worse, might have been the consequence.
If, when I bend my course obliquely, in order to
avoid the post that seems to stand directly before
me, I were to run my head full against it, I should
instantly suspect a depravation in my eye-sight : but
as I never experience any misfortune of this kind, I
believe that my sense of seeing is a well-informed
faculty. Fourthly, the perceptions received by this-
sense are perfectly consistent with one another, anJ
with the perceptions received by my other faculties.
When I see the appearance of a solid body in rny
way, my touch always confirms the testimony of my
sight ; if it did not, 1 should suspect a fallacy in one
or other of those senses, perhaps in both. When I
look on a line of soldiers, they all seem standing per
pendicular, as I my s; If stand j but if the men at the
extremities of the line, without leaning against any
thing, were to appear as if they formed an angle of
forty-five degrees with the earth s surface, I should,
suspec^some unaccountable obliquity in my vision.
Lastly, after the experience of several years, after
all the knowledge I hax^e been able to gather, concern-
ing the sensations of other men, from reading, dis-*
k 3
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, PART IIw
course, and observation, I have no reason to think
their sensations of sight different from mine. Every
body who uses the English language calls snow white y
and grass green ; and it would be in the highest de
gree absurd to suppose, that what they call the sen.
sation. of whiteness, is not the same sensation which
I call by that name. Some few, perhaps, see differ
ently from me. A man in the jaundice sees that rose
yellow which I see red - y a short sighted man sees
that picture confusedly at the distance of three yards,,
which I see distinctly. But far the greater part of
mankind see as I do, and differently from those few
individuals ; whose sense of seeing I therefore con
sider as less perfect than mine. Nay, tho the gene
rality of mankind were short-sighted, still it would
be true, that we, who are not so, have the most per
fect sight ; for our sight is more accurate in its per
ceptions, qualifies us better for the business of life, and
coincides more exactly, or at least more immediately,
with the sensations received by the other senses*
Yet the short-sighted, as well as they who have ihe
acutest sight, trust to this sense, as soon as they are
placed in a situation favourable to accurate observa
tion: all the difference is, that it is more difficult,
and often more inconvenient, for short sighted per
sons to place themselves in such a situation. Still it
should be remembered thjat a perfect sense and a well-
informed sense are not synonymous terms. We call
a sense welt-informed,, in opposition to one that is de
praved or fallacious. Perfection and imperfection
of sense are relative terms ; implying a comparison,
either between different men, in respect of the acute-
ness of their senses and faculties ; or between any
sense, as it appears in a particular man, and the de
gree of acuteness which is found to belong to that
sense as it appears in the generality of m^pkind.
There are two telescopes, one of which gives a di
stinct view of an object at two, and the other at four
miles distance ; both are equally well-informed, (if
CHAP. T. AN ESSA.Y ON TRUTJI. 133;
I may so speak) ; that is, equally true in their re*
presentations j but the one is much more imperfect
than the other.
I do not, at present, offer any further illustrations
of these criteria of a well-informed sense. The
reader who examines them by the rules of common
prudence, will perhaps be satisfied with them : at
least I arn apt to think, that few will suspect the
veracity of their faculties when they stand this test.
But let it not be supposed, that 1 mean to insinuate,
that a man never trusts his faculties till he first ex
amine them after this manner : we believe our senses
previously to all reflection or examination ; and ws
never disbelieve them, but upon the authority of our
senses placed in circumstances more favourable ta
accurate observation.
If the reader is not satisfied with these criteria,
it is no great matter. The question concerning a
well-informed sense it 1*3 not perhaps easy to answer.
I offer these remarks rather as hints to be attended
to by other adventurers in (his part of science, than
as a complete solution of the difficulty. If it were.
not that I presume some advantage may be derived
from them in this way, I should have omitted them
altogether ; for on them dees not depend the doctrine
I mean, to establish.
SECT. III.
Tie subject continued. Intuitive truths distinguish
able into classes.
the notions attending the perception of certain
^ truth, we formerly mentioned this as one,,
That iryegaru to such truth, we suppose we should
" entertain the same sentiments and belief if we
were perfectly acquainted with all nature*." Lest
it should be thought that we mean to extend this no<*
* See part 1, chap, 1.
f 34 AN ESSA? ON TRUTH. PRAT II.
tion too far, it seems proper to introduce here the
following remarks.
1. The axioms and demonstrated conclusions of
geometry are certainly true, and certainly agreeable
to the nature of things. Thus we judge of them at
present ; and thus we necessarily believe, that we
should judge of them, even if we were endued with
omniscience and infallibility. It is a natural dictate
of human understanding, that the contrary of these
truths must for ever remain absurd and impossible,
and that omnipotence itself cannot change their na
ture ; though it might so deprave our judgment as
to make us disbelieve or not perceive them *.
2. That my body exists, and is endued with a
thinking, active, and permanent principle, which I
* Some authors are of opinion, that all mathematical
truth is resoiveable into identical propositions. The fol
lowing remark to this purpose is taken from a Dissertation
on Evidence, printed at Berlin in the year 1764. " Omnes
" mathematicorum propositions sunt iclenticae, et rcpraesen
" tantur hac formula, a=a Sunt veritates identicas, sub
* varia forma expressae, imo ipsum, quod dicitur, contra-
" dictionis principium, vario modo enunciatum et involu-
" turn j siquidem omnes hujus generis propositiones revera
" in eo contineantur. Secundum nostram autem intelli-
" gendi facultatem ea est propositionum differentia, quod
* quaedam longa ratiociniorum serie, alia autem breviori
" via, ad primum omnium principium reducantur, et in
44 illud resolvantur. Sic. v. g. propositio 2 -f 2=4, statim
" hue cedit 1+1+1+1=1+1+1 + 1, i. e. idem 5 et,
" proprie loquendo, hoc modo enunciari debet. Si con-
44 tingat, adessevel existere quatuor entia j turn existunt qua-
" tucr entia ? namdeexistentianonaguntgeometraE, sedeahy-
" pothetice tan turn subinteliigitur. Inde summa oritur certi-
* tudo ratiocinia perspicienti \ observat nempe idearum identi-
** tatemjet hxc est evidentia, assensum immediate cogens,
" quam mathematicam aut geometricam vocamus. Mathesi
" tamen sua natura priva non est et propria ; oritur etenim
" ex identitatis perceptione, quae locum habere potest, e-
" tiamsi idess non repr^sentent extensum."
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 135
call my soul ; That the material world hath such
an existence as the vulgar ascribe to it, that is, a real
separate existence, to which its being perceived is in
no wise necessary : That the men, beasts, houses^
and mountains, we see and feel around us, are not
imaginary, but real and material beings, and such r
in respect of shape and tangible magnitude, as they
appear to our senses ; I am not only conscious that
I believe, but also certain, that such is the nature of
these things j and that, thus far at least, in regard toths
nature of these things,an omniscient and infallible being
cannot think me mistaken. Of these truths I am so
certain, that I scruple not to pronounce every being in
an error who is of a contrary sentiment concerning
them. For suppose an intelligent creature, an angel
for instance, to believe that there are not in the uni
verse any such things as this solar system, this earth r
these mountains, houses, animals, this being whom
I call myself ; could I, by any effort, bring myself
to believe, that his opinion is a true one, and implies
a proposition expressive of something agreeable to
the nature of things ? It is impossible and inconcei
vable. My understanding intimates, that such an
opinion would as certainly be false, as it is false that
two and two are equal to ten, or that things equal to
one and the, same thing are unequal to one another.
Yet this is an opinion which, omnipotence could ren
der true,, by annihilating the whole of this solar sys
tem ; or make me admit as true, by depiiving me of
understanding. But so long as this solar system re
mains unannihilated, and my intellect undepraved,
there is not a geometrical axiom more true, or more
evident tome,. than that this solar system, and all the
objects above-mentioned, do exist ; there is not a geo
metrical axiom that has any better title to be ac^
counted a principle of human knowledge ^ there is
not a geometrical axiom against which it is more ab*
surd, moie unreasonable, more iinphilosophica]^ to:
a.rgue,.
136 Ay ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
3. That snow is white, fire hot, gold yellow, and
su.^ar sweet, we believe to be certainly truer These
bodies affect our eyes, touch, and palate, in a pecu
liar manner ;-^ind we have no reason to think, that
they affect the organs of different men in a different
manner : on the contrary, we believe, wkh full as
surance, founded on sufficient reason, that they af
fect the senses of all men in the same manner. The
peculiar sensation we receive from them depends on
three things ; on the nature of the object perceived,
on the nature of the organ of perception, and on the
nature of the percipient being. Of each of these
things the Deity could change the nature ; and make
sugar bitter, fire cold, snow black, and gold green.
But till this be done ; in other words, while things
continue as they are, it is as certainly true, that snow
is white, fire hot, &:e. as that two and two are equal
to four, or a whole greater than a part. If we sup
pose, that snow, notwithstanding its appearance, is
black, or not white, we must also suppose, that our
senses and intellect are fallacious faculties ; and there
fore cannot admit any thing as true which has no bet
ter evidence than that of sense and intellect. If a
creature of a different nature from man were to say,
that snow is black, and hot, I should reply, (suppos
ing him to use these words in the same sense in
which I use them), It may possibly have that ap
pearance to your senses, but it has not that appear
ance to mine : it may therefore, in regard to your facul
ties be tjjue ; and if so, it ought to constitute a part of
your philosophy : but of my philosophy it cannot
constitute a part, because, in respect of my faculties,
it is a false, being contrary to fact and experience.
If the same being were to affirm, that a part is equal
to a whole, I should answer, it is impossible ; none
can think so but those who are destitute of under
standing. If he were to say, the solar system ex-
plained by Newton does not exist, I should answer,.
CHAP. I. AN ESS \Y ON TRUTH, 1 37
you are mistaken ; if your knowledge were not im
perfect, you would think, otherwise ; I am certain
that it does exist. We see, by thus stating the case,
what is the difference between these three sorts of
ce r tainty. But still^ in respect to man, these three
sorts are all equally evident, equally certain, at. d e-
qually unsusceptible of confutation : and none of
them can be disbelieved or doubted by us, except
we disavow the distinction between truth and false
hood, by supposing our faculties fallacious.
4. Of moral truth, we cannot bring ourselves to
think that the Deity s notions (pardon the expres-
sion) are contrary to ours. If we believe Him om
niscient and infallible, can we also believe, that, in
his sight, cruelty, injustice, and ingratitude, are
worthy of reward and praise, and the opposite vir
tues of blame and punishment? It is absolutely im
possible. The one belief destroys the other. Com
mon sense declares, that a being possessed of per
fect knowledge can no mere entertain such a senti
ment, than I with my eyes open can just now avoid
seeing the li^ht. If a created being were, in all cases
to think that virtue which we think vice, and that
vice w 7 hich we think virtue, what would be our no
tions of his intelligence ? Should we not, without
hesitation, pronounce him irrational, and his opinion
an absurdity? The absurdity indeed is conceivable
and may be expressed in words that imply no contra--
diction : but that any being should think in this man
ner, and yet not think wrong, is to us as perfectly-
inconceivable as that the same thing should be both
.true and false*.
* Locke says that Moral Truth is susceptible of de
monstration. If by this he means, that it admits of evi
dence sufficient to satisfy every rational mind, he is cer
tainly in the right. Eut if by the word demonstration be
meant, what Geometric ians mean by it, a proof that may
be resolved into one or more self-evident axioms whcse
13$ AN -ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
We speak here of the great and leading principles
of moral duty. Many subordinate duties there are,
which result from the form of particular govern
ments, and from particular modes of education ; and
there are some, which, though admirably adapted to
the improvement and perfection of our nature, are
yet so sublime, that the natural conscience of man
kind, unassisted by revelation, can hardly be sup
posed capable of discovering them : but in regard to
justice, gratitude, and those other virtues, of which
no rational beings CSQ far as we know) are or can be
ignorant, it is impossible for us to believe that our
sentiments are wrong. I say, there are duties of
which no rational beings can be ignorant : for if
moral sentiments be the result of a bias, or vis insita,
communicated to the rational soul by its Creator,
then must they be as universal as rational nature,
and as permanent as the effects of any other natural
law ; and it is as absurd to argue against their trutli
or authenticity, as against the reality of any other
matter of fact, But several authors of note have
denied this inference, as well as the principle whence
it proceeds ; or at least, by calling the one in ques
tion, have endeavoured to make us sceptical in re
gard to the other. They have endeavoured to prove,
that moral sentiment is different in different coun
tries, and under different forms of religion, govern
ment, and manners ; that therefore, in respect of it,
there is no vis insita in the mind ; for that, previous
to education, we are in a state of perfect indifference
as to virtue and vice ; and that an opposite course of
contraries are inconceivable, we confess that neither moral
nor historical truth is susceptible of demonstration, nor
many other truths of the most unquestionable certainty.
However it is not to be supposed, that Locke intended to
use this word in any stricter sense than what is fixed by
general practice j according to which, every proof that
brings indubitable ; evidence to the reason or senses may
properly be called a demonstration.
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH.
education v/ould have made us think that virtue
which now we think vice, and that vice which now
we think virtue : in a word, that moral sentiments
are as much the effect of custom and human artifice,
as our taste in dress, furniture, and the modes of
conversation. In proof of this doctrine, a multi
tude of facts have been brought together, to show
the prodigious diversity, and even contrariety, that
takes place in the moral opinions of different ages,
nations, and climates. Of all our modern sceptical
notions, this seemed to me one of the most danger
ous. For my own satisfaction, and for the sake of
those whom it is my duty to instruct, I have been at
great pains to examine it ; and the examination has
turned out to my entire satisfaction. But the mate
rials I have collected on this subject are far too
bulky to be inserted here. The sceptical arguments
are founded, not only on mistakes concerning the na
ture of virtue, but also on some historical facts mis
represented, and on others so equivocal, and bare of
circumstances, that they really have no meaning.
From the number of historical, as well as philoso
phical disquisitions, which I found it necessary to
introduce, the inquiry concerning the universality
and immutability of moral truth, which I thought
to have comprised in a few pages, soon swelled into
a treatise. I meant to have finished it some years
ago ; but have hitherto been prevented by a number
of unforeseen accidents.
5. Of probable truth, a superior being may think
differently from us, and yet be in the right. For
every proposition is either true or false ; and everj-
probable past event has either happened, or not hap
pened, as every probable future event will either
happen or not happen. From the imperfection of
our faculties, and from the narrowness of our expe
rience, we may judge wrong, when we think that a
certain event has happened, or will happen : and a
being of more extensive experience, and more per*
M
143 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART ir.
feet understanding, may see that we judge wrong ;
for that the event in question never did happen, nor
ever will. Yet it does not follow, that a man may
either prudently or rationally distrust his probable
notions as fallacious. That which man, by the con
stitution of his nature, is determined to admit as pro
bable, he ought to admit as probable ; for, in regard
to man, that is probable truth. Not to admit it
probable, when at the same time he must believe it
to be so, is mere obstinacy : and not to believe that
probable, which all other men who have the* same
view of all the circumstances, believe probable,
would be ascribed to caprice, or want of under
standing. If one in such a case were refractory, we
should naturally ask, How comes it, that you think
differently from us in this matter ? have you any
reason to think us in a mistake ? is your knowledge
of the circumstances from which we infer the pro
bability of this event, different from ours ? do you
know any thing about it, of which we are ignorant?
If he reply in the negative, and yet persist in con
tradicting our opinion, we should certainly think
him an unreasonable man. Every thing, therefore,
which to huraan creatures seems intuitively proba
ble, is to .be accounted one of the first principles of
probable Iranian knowledge. A human creature acts
an irrational part when he argues against it ; and if
he refuse to acknowledge it probable, he cannot,
without contradicting himself, acquiesce in any other
human probability whatsoever.
It appears from what has been said, that there are
various kinds of intuitive certainty ; and that those
who will not allow any truth to be self-evident, ex
cept what has all the characteristics of a geometrical
axiom, are much mistaken. From the view we have
given of this subject, it would be easy to reduce
ihese intuitive certainties into classes; but this is
not necessary on the present occasion. We are here
treating of the nature and immutability of truth as
GHAP. II. AN ESSA5T ON TRUTH. 14!
perceived by human faculties. Whatever intuitive
proposition man, by the law of his nature, must be
lieve as certain, or as probable, is, in regard to
him, certain or probable truth ; and must constitute
a part of human knowledge, and remain unalterably
the same, as long as the human constitution remains
vmajtered. And we must often repeat, that he who
attempts to disprove such intuitive truth, or to make
men sceptical in regard to it, acts apart as inconsist
ent with sound reasoning, and as effectually subver
sive of all human knowledge, as if he attempted to
disprove truths which he knew to be agreeable to the
eternal and necessary relations of things. Whether
the Deity can or cannot change these truths into
falsehoods, we need not seek to determine, because
it is of no consequence to us to know. It becomes
us better to inquire, with humility and rtver^iice,
into what he has done, than vainly, and perhaps pre
sumptuously, into what he can do. Whatever he
has been pleased to establish in the universe, is as
certainly established, as if it were in itself unchange
able and from eternity ; and, while he wills it to re-
mam what he made it, is as permanent as his own
nature,
CHAP. II.
The preceding theory rejected by sceptical writers .
TXTE have seen, that mathematicians and natural
philosophers do, in etTect, acknowledge the
distinction between common sense and reason, as a-
bove explained ; admitting the dictates of the former
as ultimate and unquestionable principles, and never
attempting either to prove or to disprove them by
reasoning. If we inquire a little into the genius of
modern scepticism, we shall see, that, there, a very
difterent plan of investigation lias been adopted.
Tiiis will best appear by instances taken from that
M 2
14 2 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
pretended philosophy. But first let us offer a few
general remarks.
SECTION I.
General Observations. PJse and Progress of Mo
dern Scepticisfti.
i . r ~F HE Cartesian philosophy is to be considered
*- as the ground- work of modern scepticism.
The source of LOCKE S reasoning against the separate
existence of the secondary qualities of matter, of
BERKELEY S reasoning against the existence of a
material world, and of HUME S reasoning against the
existence both of soul and body, may be found in
the first part of the Principia of DES CARTES. Yet
nothing seems to have been farther from the inten
tion of -this worthy and. most ingenious philosopher,
than to give countenance to error, irreligion, or li
centiousness. He begins with doubting ; but it is
with a view to arrive at conviction : his successors
(some of them at least) the further they advance in
their systems, become more and more sceptical ; and
at length the reader is told, to his infinite pleasure
and emolument, that the understanding, acting alone,
does intirely subvert itself, and leaves not ,the
lowest degree of evidence in any proposition what
soever *.
The first thing a philosopher ought to do, accord
ing to DES CARTES, is to divest himself of all pre
judices, and all his former opinions ; to reject the
evidence of sense, of intuition, and of mathematical
demonstration ; to suppose that there is no God, nor
heaven, nor earth ; and that man has neither hands,
nor feet, nor body ; in a word, he is to doubt of
every thing of which it is possible to doubt, and to
be persuaded, that every thing is false which can
possibly be conceived to be doubtful. Now there ^is
* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. I, p. 464.
GHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 143
only one point of which it is possible to doubt,
namely, That I, the person who doubts, am think
ing. This proposition, therefore, / think, and this
only, may be taken for granted \ and nothing else
whatsoever is to be believed without proof.
What is to be expected from this strange intro
duction ? One or other of these two things must neces
sarily follow. This author will eithar believe nothing
at all, or if he believe any thing, it must be upon the
recommendation of false and sophistical reasoning.*
But DES CARTES is no sceptic in his moral reason
ings, therefore in his moral reasonings he must be a
sophister. Let us see, whether we can make good
this charge against him by facts.
Taking it for granted, that he thinks, he thence
infers, that he exists : Ego cogito, ergo sum : I
think ; therefore I exist. Now there cannot be
thought where there is no existence ; before he take-
it for granted that he thinks, he must also take it for
granted that he exists. This argument, therefore,
proceeds on a supposition, that the thing to be prov
ed is true ; in other words, it is a sophism, a peti-
tio principii. Even supposing it possible to con
ceive thinking without at the same time conceiving
existence, still this is no conclusive argument, ex
cept it could be shown, that it is more evident to a
man that he thinks, than that he exists ; for in eve
ry true proof a less evident proposition is inferred
from one that is more evident. But, / think and /
exist, are equally evident. Therefore this is no
true proof.- To set an example of false reasonincr
in the very foundation of a. system, can hardly fail
to have bad consequences. .
Having in this manner established his own exis
tence, our author next proceeds to prove the vera
city of his faculties; that is ? to show by reasoning
that what he thinks true, is really true, and that
what bethinks false is really false. He would have*
* See the first part of this Essay,,.
M 3
J44 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART ir.
done better to have taken this also for granted : the
argument by which he attempts to prove it, does
more honour to his heart than to his understanding.
It is indeed a sophism of the same kind with the for
mer, in which he takes that for granted which he
means to prove. It runs thus : We aj e conscious,
that we have in our minds the idea of a being infi
nitely perfect, intelligent, and powerful, necessarily
existent and eternal. This idea differs from all our
ether ideas in two respects : It implies the notions
of eternal and necessary existence, and of infinite per
fection ; it neither is, nor can be, a fiction of the
imagination ; and therefore exhibits no chimera or
imaginary being, but a true and immutable nature,
-which must of necessity exist, because necessary exis
tence is comprehended in the idea of it. Therefore
there is a God, necessarily existent, infinitely wise,
powerful and true, and possessed of all perfection. This
Being is the maker of us and of all our faculties. ; he
cannot deceive, because he is infinitely perfect ;
therefore our faculties are true, and not fallacious*.
.. The same argument has*been adopted by others,
particularly by Dr Barrow. " Cartesius", says
that pious and learned author, " hath well observed,
* ( that, to make us absolutely certain of our having
*< attained the truth, it is required to be known,
* whether our faculties of apprehending and judging
* the truth, be true ; which can only be known from
** the power, goodness and truth of our Creator f .
I object not to this argument for the divine exis
tence, drawn from the idea of an all-perfect being, of
which the human mind is conscious; though perhaps
th s is not the most unexceptionable method of evin
cing that great truth. I allow, that when a man be-
.i ves a God, he cannot, without absurdity and impiety,
deny or question the veracity of his own faculties ;
end that to acknowledge a distinction between truth
i.nd falsehood, implies a persuasion, that certain laws
* Cartesii Princip. Philos. part 1. . 14. 15. 18.
t Lect, Gee-met. 7.
CHAP. Hi AN ESSAY OU TRUTH. 145
are established in the universe, on which the nature.?
of all created things depend, which (to me at leastj),
is incomprehensible, except on the supposition of a
supreme, intelligent, . directing cause. But I ac
quiesce in these principles, because I take the vera
city of my faculties for granted ; and this I feel my
self necessitated to do, because I feel it to be the law
of my nature which I 1 cannot possibly counteract.
Proceeding then upon this innate and irresistible no
tion, that my faculties are true, I infer, by the just-
est reasoning, that God exists ; and the evidence for
this great truth is so clear and convincing, that lean,
not withstand its force, if I believe any thing else
whatsoever.
DKS CARTES argues in a different manner. Be
cause God exists, (says he), and is perfect, therefore
my faculties are true. Right. But how do you
know that God exists ? I infer it from the second
principle of my philosophy,, already established;
Cogito ergo 3um. How do you know that your in
ference is just ? It satisfies my reason. Your argu*
ment proceeds on a supposition, that what satisfies
your reason is true ? It does, -Do you not then take
it for granted, that your reason is not a fallacious j
but a true faculty ? This must be taken for granted,
o-thervvise the argument is good for nothing. And
if so, your argument proceeds on a supposition, that
the point to be proved is true. In a woid,. you pre
tend to prove the truth of our faculties, by an argu
ment which evidently and necessarily supposes their
truth. Your philosophy is built on sophisms ; how
then can it be according to common sense ?
As this philosopher doubted where he ought to
have been confident, so he is often confident where
he ought to doubt. He admits not his own existence,
till he thinks he has proved it ; yet his system is
replete with hypotheses taken for granted, without
proof, almost without examination. He sets out
with the profession of universal scepticism ; but
fc 4-6 AN ESSAY ox TRUTH. FARTH;
many of his theories are founded in the most unphi-
losophical credulity. Had he taken a little more for
granted, he would have proved a great deal more :
he takes almost nothing for granted, ("I speak of what
lie professes, not of what he performs) ; and there
fore he proves nothing. In geometry, however, he
is rational and ingenius 5 there are some curious re
marks in his discourse on the passions ; his physics
are fanciful and plausible ;. his treatise on music per
spicuous, though superficial : a lively imagination
seems to- have been his chief talent ; want of know-
ledge in the grounds of evidence his principal defect.
We are informed by Father MALEBRANCHE, that
the senses were at first as honest faculties as one
could desire to be endued with, till after they were
debauched by original sin ; an adventure, from which
they contracted such an invincible propensity to
cheating, that they are now continually lying in wait
to deceive us. But there is in man, it seemsj a cer
tain clear-sighted, stout, old faculty, called reason,
which, without being deceived by appearances, keeps
an eye upon the rogues, and often proves too cun
ning for them. MALEBRANCHE therefore adviseth
us to doubt with all our might. " If a man has
* only learned to doubt," says he, " let him not i-
" magine that he has made an inconsiderable pro-
" gress *." Progress ! in what ? in science ? Is
it not a contradiction, or at least an inconsistency, in
terms, to say that a man makes progress in science
By doubting f ? If one were to ask the way to
Dublin, and- to receive for answer, that he ought
first of all to sit down ; for that if he had only learned
to sit still, he might be assured, that he had made no
inconsiderable progress in his journey , I suppose
* Qu on ne s imagine pas, que 1 on ait peu avarice, si
on a seuiement appris a dcuter.
La Recherche de la Ferite, Iw. \.ch. 20.
t Est contrarietss inter verba scivi, et dubia sunt*
JDes Cartes, Object, et Respons*
CflAF. IP. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 147
he would hardly trouble his informer with a second
question.
It is true, this author makes a distinction between
the doubts of passion, brutality, and blindness, and
those of prudence, distrust, and penetration : the
former, says he, are the doubts of Academics and
Atheists ; the latter are the doubts of the true phi
losopher * It is true also, that he allows us to give:
an entire consent to the things that appear entirely
evident f. But he adopts, notwithstanding, th&
principles of DES CARTES first philosophy, That
we ought to begin our inquiries with universal doubt^
taking only our own consciousness for granted, and
thence inferring our existence,, and the existence o
God, and proving,- from the divine veracity, that our
faculties are not fallacious. Wherever it is pos
sible that a deluding spirit may deceive us, there,
says MALEBRANCHE, we ought to doubt J ; but a
deluding spirit may deceive us wherever our me
mory is employed in reasoning ; therefore, in all-
such reasonings, there may be error. And if so,,
there may be error in reasoning of every kind ; for-
without memory there can be no reasoning : but in
the truths discovered by a single glance, (connois*
sauces de simple < v.u /) 9 . such as this, That two and
two make four, it is not possible, for a deluding god r
(dieu trompeur), however powerful, to deceive him.-
It is easy to see, that such doctrines must lead-
either to sophistry or to universal scepticism, or ra
ther to, both. For if a demonstrated conclusion may
be false for any thing I know to the contrary, arr
axiom may be so too ; my belief of the first is not*
* Recherche de la Verite, liv. 1. eh. 20. sect. 3.
t Qu oa ne doit jamais- dormer un consentement entier,
qu, a des choses qui paroissent entierement evidentes.
Rechereke de la Verite^ /iv. 1. ch. 20. sect. 3. This is in
deed a rational scepticism, such as Aristotle recommends,
and every friend to truth must approve*
Id. iiv, 6, ch> 6,
148 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
less necessary, than my belief of the last. Intuition
is, of all evidence, the clearest, and most immediately
convincing ; but demonstration produces absolute
certainty, and full conviction^in the mind of him who
understands it *. MALEB-RANCIJE, indeed, acknow
ledges, th*it we may reason when once we know that
God is no deceiver : but this, he says, must be known
at one glance, (that is, I suppose, intuitively), or it
cannot be known at all ; for all reasoning en this/
subject may be fallacious f.
But I do not pretend to unfold all the false and
sceptical principles of this author s philosophy. To
confess the truth, I do not well understand it. He
is generally mystical ; often, if I mistake not, self-
contradictory ; and his genius is strangely warped
by a superstitious veneration for the absurdities of
Popery. He rejects the evidence of sense, because-
it seems repugnant to his reason , he admits transub-
stantiation, though certainly repugnant both to rea
son and sense. Of Aristotle, and Seneca, and the o-
ther ancient philosophers, he says that their lights
are nothing but thick darkness, and their most illus
trious virtues, nothing but intolerable pride . Fy,
M. MALEBRANCHE ! Popery with all its absurdities,,
requires not from its adherents so un candid, and so
illiberal a declaration. An Aristotelian, of your
own religion and country, and nearly of your own
age, delivers a very different doctrine ; " Aristotle,
" supported by philosophy, hath ascended by the
" steps of motion even to the knowledge of one first
" mover, who is God. In order to arrive at the
" knowledge of divine things, we must learn science
* See the second chapter of the first book of the latter
Analytics of Aristotle. The great philosopher holds, that
iiituii-ion and demonstration are equally productive of know
ledge ; though the former be the first, the clearest, and
most immediate evidence.
f Recherche de la Verite, liv. 6. ch. 6.
J. Recherche de la Verite, liv, 6. ch. G.
CHAP. n. A:; ESSAY ON TRUTH. 149
t otherwise we shall fall into error. Philosophy
" and theology bear testimony to, and mutually con-
" firm each other, and produce a more perfect kriow-
" ledge of the truth ; the latter teaches what we
u ought to believe, and reason makes us believe it
" more easily, and with greater steadiness. They
are two lights, which, by their union, yield a more
" brilliant lustre than either of them could yield
** singly, or both if separated. Moses learned the
* philosophy of the Egyptians, and Daniel in Ba-
" bylon that of the Chaldeans *." This learned
and judicious Peripatetic goes on to show, that Je
rome, Augustine, Gregory of Nice, and Clemens
Alexandrinus, entertained the same honourable opinion
of the ancient Philosophers. If DES CARTKS. and
his disciple MALEBRANCHE, had studied the ancients
more, and indulged their own imagination less, they
would have made a better figure in philosophy, and
done much more service to mankind. But it was
their aim to decry the ancients as much as possible ;
and ever since their time, it has been too much the
fashion to overlook the discoveries of former ages,
as altogether unnecessary to the improvement of the
present. MALI/BRANCHE often inveighs against Ari
stotle in particular, with the most virulent bitter-
ness ; and atFects, 0:1 all occasions, to treat him with
supreme contempt f. Had this great ancient em
ployed his genius in the subversion of virtue, or in
establishing tenets incompatible with the principles
of natural religion, he would have deserved the se
verest censure. But MALE-BLANCHE lays nothing
of this kind to his charge ; he only finds him guilty
of some .speculative errors in natural philosophy.
Aristotle was not exempted from that fallibility
which is incident to human nature ; yet it would not
be amiss, jf our mcdern wits would study him a little
* Bouju. Introduction a la Philosophic, chap. 9. Paris
1614. folio.
I Sec Recherche de la Verite, iiv. 6, ch. 5.
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II,
Before they venture to decide so positively on his
abilities and character. It is observable, that he is
most admired by those who best understand him.
jNow, the contrary is true of our modern sceptics :
they are most admired by those who read them least,
and who take their characters upon trust, as they find
them delivered in coffee-houses, and drawing-rooms,
and other places of fashionable conversation, whose
doctrines tilo so much honour to the virtue and good
-sense of this enlightened age.
: I have sometimes heard the principles of the So-
cratic school urged as a precedent to justify our mo
dern Sceptics. Modern scepticism is of two kinds,
.unlike in -. their nature, though the one be the foun
dation of . the other. BES CARTES begins with uni
versal doubt, that in the end he may arrive at-con-
viction ; HUME begins xvith hypothesis, and ends
with, universal doubt. Now, does not Aristotle pro
pose, that all -investigation should begin with doubt ?
And does not Socrates affirm, that he knows nothing
certainly except his own ignorance ?
All this is true, Aristotle proposes, that inves
tigation should begin with doubt *. He compares
doubting to a knot, which it is the end of investiga
tion to disintangle ; and there can be no solution,
where there is no knot or difficulty to be solved.
But Aristotle s doubt is quite of a different nature
from that of DES CARTES. The former admits as
true whatever is self-evident, without seeking to
prove it ; nay, he affirms, that those men who at
tempt to prove self-evident principles, or who think
that such principles may be proved, are ignorant of
the nature of proof f. It differs also most essential
ly from the scepticism of Mr HUME. The reason
ings of this author all terminate in doubt ; whereas
Aristotle s constant aim is, to discover truth, and es-
.*, Aristot. Metaphys. lib. 3. cap. 1. At^x S vx fV/v
<x y K ouyroc rev oe<r^c0?, &c.
f Arktot. Metaphys, lib. 4. cap. 4,
CHAP. ir. AN ESSAY o>r TRUTH. 151
tablish conviction. He defines philosophy the Science
of Truth ; divides it into speculative and practical ;
and expressly declares that truth is the end of the
former, and action of the latter *.
Cicero, in order to compliment a sect, of which,
however, he was not a consistent discinje, ascribes
to Socrates a very high degree of scepticism f ;
making his principles nearly the same with those of
the New Academy, who professed to believe, that
all things are so involved in darkness, that nothing
can be known with certainty. The only difference
between them, according to Cicero in this place, is,
that Socrates affirmed, that he knew nothing "but his
own ignorance : whereas Arcesilas and the rest of
the New Academy, held, that man could know noth
ing, not even his own ignorance, with certainty j
and therefore, that affirmation of every kind is ab
surd and unphilosophical. But we need not take
this on the authority of Cicero ; as we have access
to the same original authors from whom he received
his information. And if we consult them, particu
larly Xenophon, the most unexceptionable of them
all in point of veracity, we shall find, that the rea
sonings, the sentiments, and the conduct of Socrates,
are altogether incompatible with scepticism. The
first science that engaged his attention was natural
philosophy ; which, as it was taught in those days
by Zeno, Anaxagoras, and Xenophanes, had very
little to recommend it to a man of sense and can
dour. Socrates soon relinquished it, from a per
suasion that it was at once unprofitable, and founded
in uncertainty ; and employed the rest of his life in.
O^G&C rpU TO KCiKWCt.
TVC -a\jj9fc/af. S-wfyriMt; plv yap
., .
Metapbys. lib. 2. cap. 1.
t Cic. Academ. lib. 1. cap. 12.
N
15 2 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
the cultivation of moral philosophy, a science which
to him seemed more satisfactory in its evidence, and
more useful in its application*. So far was he
from being sceptical in regard to the principles of
moral duty, that he inculcated them with earnest
ness wherever he found opportunity, and thought
it incumbent on every man to make himself acquaint
ed with them. In his reasonings, indeed, he did
not formerly lay down any principle, because it was
his method to deduce his conclusions from what was
acknowledged by his antagonist: but is this any
proof, that he himself did not believe his own conclu
sions? Read the story of hislifej his conduct never be
lied his principles: observe the manners of our sceptics ;
their conduct and principles do mutually and invari
ably bely one another. Do you seek still more
convincing evidence, that Socrates felt, believed, and
avowed the truth ? Read the defence he made be
fore his judges. See you there any signs of doubt,
hesitation, or fear ? any suspicion of the possibility
.of his being in the wrong? any dissimulation, soph
istry, or art ? See you not, on the contrary, the ut
most plainness and simplicity, the calmest and most
deliberate fortitude, and that noble assurance which
so well becomes the cause of truth and virtue? Few
men have shewn so firm an attachment to truth,
as to lay down their life for its sake : yet this did
Socrates. He made no external profession of any
Dhilosophical creed ; but in his death, and through
the whole of his life, he shewed the steadiest adher
ence to principle ; and his principles were all con
sistent. Xenophon has recorded many of these;
and tells us, in regard to some of them, that Socrates
scrupled not to call those men fools who differed
from his opinionf. The sophists of his age were
not solicitous to discover truth, but only to confute
* Xenoph. Memorab. lib. 1. cap. 1. et lib. 4. cap. 7.
i Xenoph. Memorab. lib. 1. cap. 1. passim.
CHAP. ir. . AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 153-
an adversary, and reason plausibly in behalf of
their theories. That they might have the ampler field
for this sort of speculation, they confined them
selves, like our modern metaphysicians, to general
topics, such as the nature of good, of beauty, and the
like j on which one may say a great many things
with little meaning, and offer a variety of argu
ments without one word of truth. Socrates did
much to discredit this abuse of science. In his
conversation he did not trouble himself with the
niceties of artificial logic. His aim was, not to ?
confute an adversary, nor to guard against that
verbal confutation which the sophists were per
petually attempting, but to do good to those with
whom he conversed, by laying their duty befere
them in a striking and persuasive manner*. He
was not fond of reasoning on abstract subjects, espe
cially when he had to do with a sophist ; well know
ing, that this could answer no other purpose than to
furnish matter for endless and unprofitable logoma
chy. When, therefore, Aristippus asked him con-
cerning the nature of good f, with a view to confute,
or at least to tease him, with quibbling evasions, So
crates declined to answer in general terms ; and De
sired the sophist to limit his question, by confining
the word good to some particular thing. Do you
ask me, says he, what is good for a fever, for sore
-eyes, or for hunger ? No, says the sophist. If, re
plies he, you ask me concerning the nature of a good
which is good for no particular purpose, 1 tell you-
once for all, that I know of none such, and have no
desires after it. In like manner, he answers to the
"
TVJ ffwvTxe 0$tXt* o Z
01 puxarra^ctrofj (A.YI TTV o Koyoq
Xenopk. Memorab. lib. 3. cap. 8,
t Id. Ibid.
N2
154 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
general question concerning beauty, by desiring his
adversary to confine himself to some particular kind
of beauty. What would the great moralibt have
thought of those modern metaphysical treatises,
which seem to have nothing ehe in view, but to con
trive vain and questionable definitions of general i-
deas ! Simple, certain, and useful truth, was the
constant, and the only object of this philosopher s
iaquiry.
True it is, he sometimes said, that he knew no
thing but his own ignorance. And surely the high
est attainments in human knowledge are imperfect
and unsatisfying. Yet man knows something : So
crates was consciovis that he knew something; other
wise Xenophon would not have asserted, that his o-
pimons concerning God, and Providence, and Reli
gion, and Moral Duty, were well known to nil the
Athenians *. But Socrates was humble, and made
n pretensions to any thing extraordinary, either in
virtue or in knowledge. He professed no science ;
he instructed others, without pedantry, and without
parade ; exemplifying the beauty and the practica
bility of virtue, by the innocence and integrity of
his life, and by the charms of an instructive, though
most insinuating, conversation f. I shall allow our
modern sceptics to avail themselves all they can of
the authority of DES CARTES and MALEBRANCHE,
of Pyrrho and Anaxarchus ; but let them not pre
sume to sanctify their trash with the venerable names
of Socrates and Aristotle.
Cicero seems to have been an Academic rather in
name than in reality. And I am apt to think, from
several passages in his works t, that he made choice
of this denomination, in order to have a pretence for
reasoning on either side of every question, and conse
quently an ampler field for a display of his rhetori-
* Xenoph. Memcrab. lib. 1. cap. 1.
t Ibid. cap. 2.
J See particularly DeOJkiis, lib. 3. cap. 4. De Fato,cap.2.
CHAP. rr. AN ESSAY ON IRUTH. 155
cal talents ||. To Pyrrho, Herillus, Aristo, and ci
ther sceptics,. who, by asserting that all things are
indifferent, destroy the distinction of virtue and vice,
he will not allow even the name of philosopher : nay,
he insinuates that it is impudence in such persons to
pretend to it *. " I wish, , says he in another
place, " that they who suppose me a sceptic were
* sufficiently acquainted with my sentiments. For
" I am not one of those whose mind wanders in er-
" ror, without any fixed principle. For what sort
" of understanding must that man possess, what sort
* of life must that man lead, who, by divesting him-
" self of principle,, divests himself of the means,
" both of reasoning and of living f !" Let it be ob
served also, that when the subject of his inquiry is
of high importance, . as in his books on moral duties,
and on the nature of the gods, he follows the doc
trine of the Dogmatists, particularly the Stoics ; and
ssserts his moral and religious principles with a
warmth and energy which prove him to have been in
earnest.
2. Nothing was further from the intention of
LOCKE, than to encourage verbal controversy, or
advance doctrines favourable to scepticism. To do
good to mankind, by inforcing virtue, illustrating
truth, and vindicating liberty, was his sincere pur
pose : and lie did not labour in vain. His writings
are to be reckoned among the few books that have
been productive of real utility to mankind. But
candour obliges me to remark, that some of his te
ll See this point illustrated in REMARKS UPON A
COURSE OF FREKTH INKING, &c. By Phileleutherus Lip"
siensis (Dr Bent/ey),.E,dh. 7th, page 262.
* De officiis, lib. 1. cap. 2,
-f Quibus vellern satis cognita esset nostra sententia,,
Non enim sumus ii, quorum vagetur animus errore, nee
habeat unquam quid sequatur. Quae enim esset ista mens,
vel quoe vita potius, non modo di sputandi, sed vivendi nu
ticne sublata ! Cic. de Officiis^ lib. 2. cap. g,
^ 3
Ij6 ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
nets seem to be too rashly admitted, for the sake of
a favourite hypothesis. That some of them have
promoted scepticism, is undeniable. He seems in
deed to have been sensible, that there were inaccu
racies in his work ; and candidly owns, that " some
* hasty and indigested thoughts on a subject never
" before considered, gave the first entrance to his
" * Essay ; which, being begun by chance, was con-
" tinued by intrtaty, written by incoherent parcels,
* and after long intervals of neglect resumed again,
* as humour or occasion permitted *."
The first book of his Essay, which, with submis
sion, I think the worst, tends to establish this dan
gerous doctrine, That the human mind, previous to
education and habit, is as susceptible of any one im
pression as of any other : a doctrine which, if true,,
would go near to prove, that truth and virtue are
no better than human contrivances , or, at least, that:
they have nothing permanent in their nature, but
may be as changeable as the inclinations and capaci
ties of men ; and that, as we understand the term,
there is no such thing as common sense in the world.
Surely this is not the doctrine that LOCKE meant to
establish j but his zeal against innate ideas, and in
nate principles, put him off his guard, and made him
allow too little to instinct, for fear of allowing too
much. This controversy, so far as it regards moral
sentiment, we have examined in another place. At
present we would only observe, that if truth be any
thing permanent, which it must be if it be any thing
at all, those perceptions or impulses of understand
ing, by which we become conscious of it, must be
equally permanent ; which they could not be, if they
depended on education, and if there were not a law
of nature, independent on man, which determines
the understanding in some cases to believe, in others
to disbelieve. Is it possible to imagine, that any
* Preface to the Essay on Human Understanding.
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. Ttf;
course of education could ever bring a rational crea
ture to believe, that two and two are equal to three,,
and that he is not the same person to-day he was yes
terday,, that the ground he stands on does not exist ?
could make him disbelieve the testimony of his own
senses, or that of other men ? could make him ex
pect unlike events in like circumstances ? or that
the course of nature, of which he has hitherto had
experience, will be changed, even when he foresees
no cause to hinder its continuance ? I can no more,
believe, that education could produce such a depra
vity of judgment, than that education could make,
me see all human bodies in an inverted position, or
hear with my nostrils, or take pleasure in burning,
or cutting my flesh. Why should not our judgments
concerning truth be acknowledged to result from a.
bias impressed upon the mind by its Creator, as well
as our desire of self-preservation, our love of so
ciety, our resentment of injury, our joy in the pos
session of good ? If those judgments be not instinc
tive, I should be glad to know how they come to be
universal : the modes of sentiment and behaviour
produced by education are uniform only where edu
cation is uniform ; but there are many truths which,
have obtained universal acknowledgment in all ages
and nations. If those judgments be not instinctive,
I should be glad to know how men find it so diffi
cult, or rather impossible, to lay them aside : the false-
opinions we imbibe from habit and education, may
be, and often are, relinquished by those who make a
proper use of their reason ; and the msn who thus,
renounces former prejudices, upon conviction of their
falsity ? is applauded by all as a man of candour^
sense, and spirit j but if one were to suffer himself
to be argued out of his common sensej the whole,
world would pronounce him a fool.
The substance, or at least the foundation, of
BERKELEY S argument against the existence of mat-*
ter, may be found in LOCKE S Essay, and in the.
58 AW ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
Prlncipia of DES CARTES. And if this argument
be conclusive, it proves that to be false which every
man must necessarily believe every moment of his
life to be true, and that to be true which no man
since the foundation of the world was ever capable
of believing for a single moment. BERKELEY S doc
trine attacks the most incontestable dictates of com
mon sense ; and pretends to demonstrate, that the
clearest principles of human conviction, and those
which have determined the judgment of all men in
all ages, and by which the judgment of all rational
men must be determined, are certainly fallacious.
Mr HUME, more subtle, and less reserved, than
any of his predecessors, hath gone still greater
lengths in the demolition of common sense ; and
reared in its place a most tremendous fabric of doc
trine ; upon which, if it were not for the flimsiness
of its materials, engines might easily be erected, suf
ficient to overturn all belief, science, religion, virtue,
and society, from the very foundation. He calls this
work, " A Treatise of Human Nature; being an at-
" tempt to introduce the experimental method of
** reasoning into moral subjects. 7 This is, in the
style of Edmund Curl, a taking title page ; but, a-
]as ; " Fronti nulla fides !" The whole of this
author s system is founded on a false hypothesis ta
ken for granted ; and whenever a fact contradictory
to that false hypothesis occur? to his observation, he
either denies it, or labours hard to explain it away.
This, it seems, in his judgment, is experimental rea
soning : in mine, it is just the reverse.
He begins his book with affirming, That all the
perceptions of the human mind resolve themselves
into two classes, impressions and ideas ; that the
latter are all copied from the former ; and that ?.n i-
dea differs from its correspondent impression only in
being n weaker perception. Thus, when I sit by
the fire, I have an impression of heat, and I can form
sn idea of heat when I am shivering with cold j in
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON 1RUTH.
the one ca:>e I have a stronger perception of heat, in
the other a weaker. Is there any warmth in this
idea of heat ? There must, according to Mr HUME S
doctrine j only the warmth of the idea is not quite
so strong as that of the impression. For this pro
found author repeats it again and again, that an idea
is by its nature weaker and fainter than an impres
sion, but is in every other respect (not only similar,
but) the same*. Nay, he goes further, and says,
that whatever is true of the one must be acknowledg
ed concerning the other f ; and he is so confident of
the truth of this maxim, that he makes it one of the
pillars of his philosophy. To those who may be in
clined to admit this maxim on his authority, I would
propose a few plain questions. Do you feel any,
even the least, warmth, in the idea of a bonefire, a
burning mountain, or the general conflagration ? Do
you feel more real cold ia VirgiPs Scythian winter,
than in Milton s description of the flames of hell ?
Do you acknowledge that to be true of the idea of
eating, which is certainly true of the impression of
it, that it alleviates hunger, fills the belly, and contri
butes to the support of human life ? If you answer
these questions in the negative, you deny one of the
fundamental principles of Mr HUME S philosophy.
We have, it is true, a livelier perception of a friend
when we see him than when ave think of him in his
absence. But this is not all : every person of a sound
mind knows, that in the one case we believe, and are
certain, that the object exists, and is present with us ;
in the other we believe, and are certain, that the ob
ject is not present : which, however, Mr HUME must
deny j for he maintains, that an idea differs from an
impression only in being weaker, and in no other re
spect whatsoever.
That every idea should be a copy and resemblance
* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 131.
* Ibid. p. 41.
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
of the impression whence it is derived ; that, for
example, the idea of red should be a red idea ; the
idea of a roaring lion a roaring idea ; the idea of an ass,
a hairy, long-eared, sluggish idea, patient of labour,
and much addicted to thistles ; that the idea of exten
sion should be extended, and that of solidity solid ,
that a thought of the mind should be endued with all,
or any, of the oualities of matter, is, in my judg
ment, inconceivable and impossible. Yet Mr
HUME takes it for granted; and it is another of his
fundamental maxims. Such is the credulity of Scep
ticism !
If every idea be an exact resemblance of its corres
pondent impression, (or object ; for these terms ac
cording to this author, amount to the same thing*) ;
if the Idea of whiteness be white, of solidity solid,
and of extenbion extended, as the same author al
lows]- ; then the idea of a line, the shortest that
sense can perceive, must be equal in length to the
line itself ; for if shorter, it would be imperceptible ;
and it will not be said, either that an imperceptible
idea can be perceived, or that the idea of an imper
ceptible object can be formed : consequently
the idea of a line a hundred times as long, must be
a hundred times as long as the former idea j for if
shorter, it would be the idea, not of this, but of some
other shorter line. And so it clearly follows, nay it
admits of mathematical demonstration, that the idea
of an inch is really an inch long ; and that of a mile, a
mile long. In a word, every idea of any particular ex
tension is equal in length to the extended object. The
same reasoning holds good in regard to the other di
mensions of breadth and thickness. All ideas, there
fore, of solid objects,must beCaccording to MrHuME s
philosophy)equal in magnitude and solidity to the ob
jects themselves. Now mark the consequence. lam just
now in an apartment containing a thousand cubic feet,,
* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 1, 2, 362.
t Ibid, p. 416, 417-
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. l6l
being ten feet square, and ten high ; the door and win
dows are shut, as well as my eyes and ears. Mr HUME
will allow, that,in this situation, I may form ideas, not
only of the visible appearance, but also of the real
tangible magnitude of the whole house, of a first-rate
man of war, of St Paul s cathedral, or even of a
much larger object. But the solid magnitude of
these ideas is equal to the solid magnitude of the ob
jects from which they are copied : therefore I have
now present with me an idea, that is, a solid extend
ed thing, whose dimensions extend to a million of
cubic feet at least. The question now is, where is
this thing placed ? for a place it certainly must have,
and a pretty large one too. I should answer, in my
mind ; for I know not where else the ideas of my
mind can be so conveniently deposited. Now my
mind is lodged in a body of no extraordinary dimen
sions, and my body is contained in a room ten feet
square and ten feet high. It seems then, that, into
this room, I have it in my power at pleasure to in
troduce a solid object a thousand, or ten thousand,
times larger than the room itself. I contemplate it
a while, and then, by another volition, send it a pack
ing, to make way for another object of equal or su
perior magnitude. Nay, in no larger vehicle than a
common post-chaise, I can transport from one end of
the kingdom to the other, a building equal to the
largest Egyptian pyramid, and a mountain as big as
the peak of Teneriff. Take care, ye disciples of
HUME, and be very well advised before ye reject this
mystery as impossible and incomprehensible. It is
geometrically deduced from the principles, nay from
the first principles, of your master. By denying
this, you give his system such a stab as it cannot
survive.
Say, ye candid and intelligent, what are we to ex
pect from a logical and systematic treatise founded
on a supposition, that a part may be ten or a hundred
thousand times greater than the whole ? Shall we
l62 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART It,
expect truth ? Then it must be inferred by false
reasoning. Shall we expect sound reasoning ? Then
surely the inferences must be false. Indeed, though
I cannot much admire this author s sagacity on the
present occasion, I must confess myself not a little
astonished at his courage. A witch going to sea in
an egg-shell, or preparing to take a trip through the
air on a broom-stick, would be a surprising phe
nomenon ; but it is nothing to Mr HUME, on such a
bottom, "launching out ( as he somewhere expresses
" it) into the immense depths of philosophy."
To multiply examples for the confutation of so
glaring an absurdity, is really ridiculous. I there
fore leave it to the reader to determine, whether, if
this doctrine of solid and extended ideas be true, ic
will not follow, that the idea of a roaring lion must
emit audible sound, almost, if not altogether, as loud
and as terrible, as the royal beast in person could ex
hibit ; that two ideal bottles of brandy will intox
icate as far at least as two genuine bottles of wine ;
and that I must be greatly hurt, if not dashed to
pieces, if I am so imprudent, as to form only the idea
of a bomb bursting under my feet. For has not our
author said, that " impressions and ideas comprehend
" all the perceptions (or objects) of the human mind;
" that whatsoever, is true of the one must be ac-
" knowledged concerning the other ; nay, that they
" are in every respect the same, except that the for-
" mer strike with more force than the latter ?"
The absurdity and inconceivableness of the dis
tinction between objects and perceptions is another
of our author s capital doctrines. " Philosophers,"
says he, "have distinguished between objects, and
" perception, of the senses; but this distinction is
" not comprehended by the generality of mankind."*
Now how are we to know, whether this distinction,
* See Treatise of Human Nature, vol. L p. 353. 365.
The word perception (and the same is true of the words
sensation, smelly taste, and many others) has, in common
CHAP. II. Air ESSAY ON TRUTH. 163
be conceived and acknowledged by the generality S
If we put the question to any of them, we shall find
it no easy matter to make ourselves understood, and,
after all, perhaps be laughed at for our pains. Shall
we reason a. priori about their sentiments and com
prehensions ? this is often Mr HUME S method ; but
it is neither philosophical nor fair. Will you allow
me to reckon myself one of the generality $ Then
I declare, for my own part, that I do comprehend
and acknowledge this distinction, and have done so
ever since I was capable of reflection. I remember
when a child, to have had my fingers scorched with
burning coals, and stung by bees : but I never con
founded the object with the perception ; I never
thought that the pain I felt could either make honey
or melt lead The instance, you say, is somewhat
equivocal Then, I hope the following is explicit
enough.
language, two, and sometimes three, distinct significations.
It means, 1. The thing perceived. Thus v/e speak of the
taste of a fig, the smell vl a rose. 2. The power or faculty
perceiving j as when we say, " I have lost my smell by a
" severe cold, and therefore my taste is not so quick as
" usual." 3. It sometimes denotes that impulse or impres
sion which is communicated to the mind by the external
object operating upon it through the organ of sensation.
Thus we speak of a sweet or bitter taste, a distinct or con
fused, a clear or obscure, sensation or perception. Most of
our sceptical philosophers have either been ignorant of, or
inattentive to this distinction : MALEBRANCHE, indeed,
(liv. 1. ch. 10.) seeiris to have had some notion of it j but
either I do not understand this author, or there is a strange
obscurity and want of precision in almost every thing he
says. Mr HUME S philosophy does not allow this to be a
rational distinction 5 so that it is impossible to know pre
cisely what he means by the word perception in this and
many other places. I have proved, however, that his as
sertion is false, whatever sense (consistent with coimnon
use) we aiTix to the word.
O
164 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
Suppose me to address the common people in these
words : " I see a strange sight a little way off; but
" my sight is weak, so that I see it imperfectly ; let
" me go nearer, that I may have a more distinct
" sight of it." If the generality of mankind be
at all incapable of distinguishing between the object
and the perception, this incapacity wil) doubtless dis
cover itself most, when ambiguous words are used
on purpose to confound their ideas ; but if their ideas
on this subject are not confounded even by ambiguous
language, there is reason to think, that they are ex
tremely clear, distinct, and accurate. Now I have
here proposed a sentence, in which there is a studied
ambiguity of language ; and yet I maintain, that
every person of common sense, who understands
English, will instantly, on hearing these words, per
ceive that by the word sight I mean, in the first >
clause, the thing seen ; in the second the power, or
perhaps the organ, of seeing ; in the third, the per
ception itself, as distinguished both from the per
cipient faculty, and from the visible object*. If one
* To every person of common sense this distinction is
In reality and practice quite familiar. But as the words
we use in expressing it are of ambiguous signification, it is
not easy to write about it so as to be immediately under
stood by every reader. The thing seen or perceived is
something permanent and extern?!, and is believed to exist,
whether perceived or not *, the faculty of seeing or per
ceiving is also something permanent in the mind, and is
believed to exist whether exerted or not ; but what I here
call the perception itself v& temporary, and is conceived to
have no existence but in the mind that perceives it, and to
exist no longer than while it is perceived j for in being
perceived, its very essence does consist j so that to be, and
to be perceived, when predicated of it, do mean precisely
the same thing. Thus, I just now see this paper, which I
call the external object : I turn away, or shut my eyes,
and then I see it no longer, but I still" believe it to exist 5
though buried an hundred fathom deep in. the earth, or
iiHA?. If. AN E5SAT ON TRUTH. l6$
of the multitude, on hearing me pronounce this sen
tence, were to reply as follows ; " The sight is not
w at all strange ; it is a man on horseback : but your
" sight must needs be weak, as you are lately reco-
" vered from sickness : however, if you wait a little
" till the man and horse, which are aow in the shade,
(< come into the sunshine, you will then have a much
" more distinct sight of them :" 1 would ask, is
the study of any part of philosophy necessary to
make a man comprehend the meaning of these two
sentences ? Is there any thing absurd or unintelligible
either in the former or in the latter ? Js there any
thing in the reply, that seems to exceed the capacity
of the vulgar, and supposes them to be more acute
than they really are ? If there be not, and i am cer
tain there is not, here is an unquestionable proof,
that the vulgar, and indeed all men whom metaphy-
iic has not deprived of their senses, do distinguish
O 2
left in an uninhabitable island, its existence would be as
real, as if it were eazed at by ten thousand men. Again,
when I shut ray eyes or tie a bandage over them, or go in
to a dark place, I see no longer , that is, my faculty of
seeing acts, or is acted upon, no longer j but I still believe
it to remain in my mind, ready to act, or to be acted upon,
whenever it is again placed in the proper circumstances ;
for nobody supposes, that by shutting our eyes, or going
into a d-^rk place, we annihilate our faculty of seeing. But
thirdly, m.y perception of this paper is no permanent thing -.
tier has it any existence, but while it is perceived : nor
cces it at all exist but in the mind that perceives it ; I can
put an, end to, or annihilate it, whenever 1 please, by shut
ting my eyes $ and I can at pleasure renexv it again by o-
petiing them. It is really astonishing, that so many of
our modern philosophers should have overlooked a distinc-
ticn, which is of so great importance, that if we were un
acquainted with it, a great part of human language would
seem to be perfect nonsense. Such ?.n oversight would be
unpardonable in a dictionary -maker ; but, I know not ho\v
it is, some of our philosophers have been admired and cele
brated for their acumen in committing it.
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH* PART II.
between the object perceived, the faculty perceiving
and the perception or impulse communicated by the
external object to the mind through the organ of sen-
sation. What though all the three are sometimes
expressed by the same name ? This only shows,
that accuracy of language is not always necessary for
answering the common purposes of life. If the ideas
of the vulgar are sufficiently distinct, notwithstand
ing, what shall we say of that philosopher, whose
ideas are really confounded by this inaccuracy, and
who, because there is no difference in the signs, i-
inagines that there is none in the things signified !
That the understanding of such a philosopher is not a
vulgar one, will be readily allowed ; whether it ex
ceeds, or falls short, let the reader determine.*
* Mr HUME is not always consistent with himself in
affirming, that the vulgar do not comprehend the distinc
tion between perceptions and objects. " It is not," he
says, vol. 1. p. 337, " by arguments, that children, pea-
" sants, and the greatest part of mankind, are induced to
44 attribute objects to some impressions, and deny them to
" others." So ! it seems the greatest part of mankind do
acknowledge a distinction between objects and perceptions,
* accordingly we find, that all the conclusions which the
" vulgar form on this head, are directly contrary to those
" which are confirmed by philosophy." The more shame
to that philosophy ! say I. " For philosophy informs us,
" that every thing which appears to the mind, is nothing
" but a perception, and is interrupted, and dependent on the
** mind - ? whereas the vulgar confound perceptions and ob-
* jects," that is, I suppose, do not distinguish the former
from the latter. How ! in the last sentence it was said,
that the greatest part of mankind do distinguish between
impressions (which are a species of perceptions) and ob
jects, " and attribute a distinct continued existence to
44 the very things they feel or see." So, now again the
objects have a distinct continued existence j that is, are
something different from perceptions, which every body
knows have no continued existence. Here Mr HUME,
within the compass of half a page, contradicts himself, and
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH.
This author s method of investigation is no less
extraordinary than his fundamental principles. There
are many notions in the human mind, of which it is
not easy perhaps to explain the origin. If you can
describe in words what were the circumstances in
which you received an impression of any particular
notion, it is well ; Mr HUME will allow that you
may form an idea of it. But if you cannot do this,
then says he, there is no such notion in your minds,
for all perceptions are either impressions or ideas ;
and it is not possible for us so much as to conceive
any thing specifically different from ideas and im
pressions * : now all ideas are copied from impres
sions : therefore you can have no idea nor concep
tion of any thing of which you have not received an
impression. All mankind have a notion of power
of energy. No says Mr HUME ; an impression of
power or energy was never received by any man, and
therefore an idea of it can never be formed in the
human mind. If you insist on your experience and
consciousness of power, it is all a mistake : his hy
pothesis
contradicts that contradiction, and finally acquiesces in the
first contradiction. To hunt such a writer through so
many shiftings and doublings, is not worth the reader s
while nor mine. I hope we both know how to employ
our time to better purpose. How often our author may
affirm and deny, and deny and affirm, this doctrine, in the
coarse of his work, I neither know nor care : it is cer
tain, that, upon the whole, he holds the distinction between
objects and perceptions to be unreasonable ("p. 338.) mi~
philosophical, (ibid.), and unsupported by the evidence of
sense, (p. 330. 337.) And indeed, when this distinc
tion, as we have explained it, is acknowledged, and attend
ed to, all BERKELEY S pretended demonstration of the non-
existence of matter, and all HUME S reasonings against the
existence both of matter and spirit, appear to be no better,
than a play upon words. For this key unlocks that whole
mystery of sophism and quibble.
Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1, p. 123,
3
168 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART ir.
pothesis admits not the idea of power, and therefore
there is no such idea *. AH mankind have an idea,
of self. That I deny, says Mr HUME ; I maintain-,
that no man ever had, or can have, an impression of
self ; and therefore no man can form any idea of it f.
If you persist, and say, that certainly you have some
notion or idea of yourself: My dear Sir, he would
say, you do not consider, that this assertion contra
dicts my hypothesis of impressions and ideas ; how
then is it possible it should be true ! This, it seems,
is experimental reasoning !
But though Mr HUME denj^, that I have any no
tion of self, surely he does not mean to affirm, that
I do not exist, or that I have no notion of myself as
an existent being. In truth, it is not easy to say
what he means on this subject. Most philosophical
subjects become obscure in the hands of this author ;
for he has a notable talent at puzzling his readers and
himself: but when he treats of consciousness, of per
sonal identity, and of the nature of the soul, he ex
presses himself so strangely, that his words either
have no meaning, or imply a contradiction. " The
" question," says he, " concerning the substance of
" the soul is unintelligible J." Well, Sir, if you
think so, you may let it alone. No ; that must not
be neither. " What we call a mind, is nothing but
* a heap or collection of different perceptions (or
4< objects) united together by certain relations, and
" supposed, though falsely, to be endowed with per-
u feet simplicity and identity || . If any one, upon
ci serious and unprejudiced reflection, thinks he has
Ci a different notion of himself, I must confess 1 can
* ( reason with him no longer. All 1 can allow him
* is that he may be in the right as well as I, and that
" we are essentially different in this particular. He
* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 282.
t Ibid. p. 437. 4S8. J Ibid. p. 434. 435.
!i Ibid. p. 361, 362,
CHAP. IT. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH,
i( may perhaps perceive something simple and con-
" tinued, which he calls himself \ though I am cer-
" tain there is no such principle in me. But setting
" aside some metaphysicians of this kind," that is,
who feel and believe, that they have a soul,
" I may venture to affirm of the rest of mankind,
" that they are nothing but a bundle or collection of
" different perceptions, which succeed each other with
* inconceivable rapidity, and are in a perpetual flux
* and movement There is properly no simplici-
" ty in the mind at one time, nor identity in different
" (times^), whatever natural propension we may have
" to imagine that simplicity and identity. They are
" the successive perceptions only that constitute the
" mind *."
If these words have any meaning,, it is this : My
soul (or rather that which I call my soul) is not one
simple thing, ncr is it the same thing to-day it was
yesterday^ nay, it is not the same this moment it
was the last ; it is nothing but a mass, collection,,
heap, or bundle, of different perceptions, or objects,
-that fleet away in succession,, with inconceivable ra
pidity, perpetually changing,, and perpetually in me-
tion. There may be some metaphysicians to whose
souls this description cannot be applied ; but I (Mr
HUME) am certain, that this is a true and complete
description of my soul, and of the soul of every other
individual of the human race, those few metaphysi
cians excepted.
4 That body has no existence, but as a bundle of
perceptions, whose existence consists in their being
perceived, our author all along maintains. He now
affirms, that the soul, in like manner, is a bundle of,
perceptions, and nothing else. It follows, then, that
there is nothing in the universe but impressions and
ideas ; all possible perceptions being by our author
comprehended in those two classes. This philosophy
* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p, 438, 439, 440.
AN ESSAt ON TRUTH* PART II.
admits of no other existence whatsoever, nor even of
a percipient being to perceive these perceptions. So
that we arc now arrived at the height of human
wisdom ; at that intellectual eminence, from whence
there is a full prospect of all that we can reasonably
believe to exist, and of all that can possibly become
the object of our knowledge. Alas I what is be
come of the magnificence of external nature, and the
wonders of intellectual energy, the immortal beauties
of truth and virtue, and the triumphs of a good con
science ! Where now the warmth of benevolence,
the fire of generosity, the exultations of hope, the
tranquil ecstasy of devotion, and the pang of sympa
thetic delight ! All, around, above, and beneath, is one
vast vacuit}^, or rather an enormous chaos, encom
passed with darkness universally and eternally im
penetrable. Body and spirit are utterly annihilated ;
and there remains nothing (for we must again descend
into the gibberish of metaphysic) but a vast collec
tion, bundle, mass, or heap, of unperceived percep
tions.
Such, if Mr HUME S words have any meaning, is
the result of his system. And what is this result ?
If he, or his admirers, can prove, that there is a pos
sibility of expressing it in words which do not imply
a contradiction, I will not call it nonsense. If he or
they can prove, that it is compatible with any one
acknowledged truth in philosophy, in morals, in re
ligion natural or revealed, I will not call it impious.
If he or they can prove, that it does not arise from
common facts misrepresented, and common words mis
understood, I shall admit that it may have arisen from
accurate observation, candid and liberal inquiry, per
fect knowledge of human nature, and the enlarged
views of true philosophic genius.
CHAP. H. AK ESSAY ON TRt7TH. 1 7*
SECT. II.
Of the Non-existence of Matter.
TN the preceding section I have taken a slight sur-
** vey of the principles, and method of investiga
tion, adopted by the most celebrated promoters of
modern scepticism. And it appears that they have
not attended to the distinction of reason and common
sense, as explained in the first part of" this Essay,
and as acknowledged by mathematicians and natural
philosophers. Erroneous, absurd, and self-contra
dictory notions, have been the consequence. And
now, by entering into a more particular detail, we
might easily shew, tnat many of those absurdities
thatdisgrace the philosophy of human nature, would
never have existed, if men had acknowledged and
attended to this distinction; regulating their enqui
ries by the criterion above-mentioned, and never
prosecuting any chain of argument beyond the self-
evident principles of common sense. We shall con
fine ourselves to two instances ; one of which is con
nected with the evidence of external sense, and the
other with that of internal.
That matter or body has a real, separate, inde
pendent existence * ; that there is a real sun above
us, a real air around us, and a real earth under
our feet ; has been the belief of all men who were
not mad, ever since the creation. This is believed,
not because it is or can be proved by argument, but
because the constitution of our nature is such that
we must believe it. There is here the same ground
of belief,, that there is in the following propositions :
* By independent existence^ we mean an existence that
does not depend 1 on us, nor so far as \\e knoxv, on any be
ing, except the Creator. BERKELEY, and others, say,,
that matter exists not but in the minds that perceive it \
and consequently depends, in respect of its existence^
upon those minds.
Atf ESSAY or; Thffffc. PAST i*.
I exist ; whatever is, is ; two and two make four.
It is absurd, nay, it is impossible, to believe the
contrary. I could as easily believe, that I do not
exist, that two and two are equal to ten, that what
ever is, is not j as that I have neither hands, nor
feet, nor head, nor clothes, nor house, nor country,
nor acquaintance ; that the sun, moon, and stars,
ocean, and tempest, thunder, and lightning, moun
tains, rivers, and cities, have no existence but as
ideas or thoughts in my mind, and, independent on
me and my faculties, do not exist at all, and could
not exist if I were to be annihilated ; that fire, and
burning, and pain, which I feel, and the recollec
tion of pain that is past, and the idea of pain
xvhich I never felt, are all in the same sense
ideas or perceptions in my mind, and nothing
else ; that the qualities of matter are not qualities of
matter, but affections of spirit ; and that I have no
evidence that any being exists in nature but myself.
Philosophers may say what they please ; and the
world, who are apt enough to admire what is mon
strous, may give them credit ; but I afHrm, that
it is not in the power, either of wit or of madness, to
contrive any conceit more inconsistent, more absurd,
or more nonsensical, than this, That the material
world has no existence but in my mind.
DES CARTES admits, that every person must be
persuaded of the existence of a material world : but
he does not allow this point to be self-evident, or so
certain as not to admit of doubt; because, says he,
we find in experience, that our senses are sometimes
in an error, and because, in dreams we often mis
take ideas for external things really existing. He
therefore begins his philosophy of bodies with a for
mal proof of the existence of body *.
But however imperfect, and however fallacious,
we acknowledge our senses to be in other matters, it
is certain, that no- man ever thought them fallacious
* Cartesii Principia, part 1. 4. part 2. 1,
C.UAP. If. AN ESSAY OK TRUTH.-
in regard to the existence of body : nay, every man
of a sound mind, is, by the law of his nature, convin
ced, that, in this respect at least, they are not, and
cannot be mistaken. Men have sometimes been de
ceived by sophistical arguraent, because the human
understanding is in some, and indeed in many, re
spects fallible -, but does it follow, that we cannot,
without proof, be -certain of any thing, not even of
our own existence, nor of the truth of a geometrical
axiom ? Some diseases are so fatal to the mind, as
to confound mens notions even of their own i^-r ci
ty ; but does it follow, that I cannot be certain of
my being the same person to-day I \va* yes.eraav,
and twenty years ago, till I have firs: proved this
point by argument r And because we are sometimes
deceived by our senses, does it therefore follow, that
wenever areceitainof ournot being deceived by them,
till we have first convinced ourselves by reascnir.g,
that they are not deceitful ? If a Caitesian can
prove, that there have been a few persons of sound
understanding, who from a conviction of the de-
ceitfulness of their senses, have really disbelieved,
or seriously doubteu, the existence of a material
world, I shall allow a conviction of this deceitful-
ness to be a sufficient ground for such doubt or dis
belief, in one or a few instances ; and if lie can prove
that such doubt or disbelief has at any time been ge
neral among mankind, I shall allow that it may pos
sibly be so again ; but if it be certain, as I think it
is, that no man of a sound mind, however suspi
cious of the veracity of his senses, ( ver did or could
really disbelieve, or seriously doubt, the existence
of a material world, then is this point self-evident,
and a principle of common sense, even on the sup
position that o^r senses are as deceitful as Djfc -s
C- RTES and MALEBRAJJCHE chuse to represent
them. But we have formerly proved, that our sen-,
ses are never supposed to be deceitful, except whea
we are conscious^ that our excellence is pan.ial, or
174 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART If.
cur observation inaccurate ; and that even then, the
fallacy is detected, and rectified, only by the evi
dence of sense placed in circumstances more favour
able to accurate observation. In regard to the ex
istence of matter, there cannot possibly be a suspi
cion, that our observation is inaccurate, or our ex
perience partial ; and therefore it is not possible,
that ever we should distrust our senses in this par
ticular. If it were possible, our distrust could ne
ver be removed either by reasoning or by expe
rience.
As to the suspicion against the existence of mat
ter that is supposed to arise from our experience of
the delusions of dreaming ; we observe, in the first
place, that if this be allowed a sufficient ground for
suspecting, that our waking perceptions are equally
delusive, there is at once an end of all truth, rea
soning,, and common sense. That I am at present
awake, and not asleep, I certainly know ; but I can-
riot prove it : for there is no criterion for distin
guishing dreaming fancies from waking perceptions,
more evident, th*n that I am now awake, which is
the point in question ; and, as we have often remark
ed, it is essential to every proof, to be more evident
than that which is to be proved. That I am now a-
wake, must therefore carry its ow 7 n evidence along
with it ; if it be evident at all, it must be self-evi
dent. And so it is : we may mistake dreams for
realities, but no rational being ever mistook a reali
ty for a dream. Had we the command of our un
derstanding and memory in sleep, we should pro
bably be sensible, that the appearances of our dreams
are all delusive : which, in fact is sometimes the
case ; at least I have sometimes been conscious, that
my dream was a dream ; and when it was disagreea
ble, have actually made efforts to awake myself,
which have succeeded. But sleep has a wonderful
power over all our faculties. Sometimes we seem
to have lost our moral faculty j as when we dream
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 175
of doing that, without scruple or remorse, which
when awake we could not bear to think of.
Sometimes memory is extinguished ; as when we
dream of conversing with our departed friends,
without remembering any thing of their death, tho*
it was, perhaps, one of the most striking incidents!
we had ever experienced, and is seldom or never out
of our thoughts when we are awake. Sometimes
our understanding seems to have quite forsaken us ;
as when we dream of talking with a dead friend, re
membering at the same time that he is dead, but
without being conscious of any thing absurd or unu
sual in the circumstance of conversing with a dead
man. Considering these and the other effects of
sleep upon the mind, we need not be surprised, that
it should cause us to mistake our own ideas for real
things, and be affected with those in the same man
ner as with these. But the moment we awake, and
recover the use of our faculties, we are sensible that
the dream was a delusion, and that the objects which
now solicit our notice are real. To demand a rea
son for the implicit confidence we repose in our wa-
king perceptions ; or to desire us to prove, that
things are as they appear to our waking senses, and
not as they appear to us in sleep, is as unreasonable
as to demand a reason for our belief in our own ex
istence : in both cases our belief is necessary and
unavoidable, the result of a law of nature, and what
we cannot in practice contradict, but to our shame
and perdition.
If the delusions of dreaming furnish any reasona
ble p-retence for doubting the authenticity of our
waking perceptions, they may, with equal reason,
make me doubtful of my own identity : for I have
often dreamed that I was a person different from what
I am ; nay, that I was two or more distinct persons
a one and the same time.
Further: If DES CARTES thought an argument
nece.sary to convince him, tr.at his p f rception of the
P
176 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
external world was not imaginary, but real, I would
ask, how he could know that his argument was real,
and not imaginary. How could he know that he
was awake, and not asleep, when he wrote his prin
ciples of philosophy, if his waking thoughts did not,
previous to all reasoning, carry along with them un
deniable evidence of their reality ? / am awake, is
a principle which he must have taken for granted,
even before he could satisfy himself of the truth of
what he thought the first of all principles, Cogito,
ergo sum* To all which we may add, that if there
be any persons in the world who never dream at
all *, ("and some such I think there are^), and whose
belief ift the existence of a material world is not a
whit stronger than that of those whose sleep is al
ways attended with dreaming ; this is a proof from
experience, that the delusions of sleep do not in the
least affect our conviction of the authenticity of the
perceptions we receive, and of the faculties we ex
ert, when awake.
The first part of DES CARTES argument for the
existence of bodies, would prove the reality of the
visionary ideas we perceive in dreams ; for they, as
well as bodies, present themselves to us, indepen
dent on our wilL But the principal part of his ar
gument is founded in the veracity of God, which
he had before inferred from our consciousness of the
idea of an infinitely perfect, independent, and neces
sarily-existent being. Our senses inform us of the
* " I once knew a man," says Mr LOCKE, " who was
** bred a scholar, snd had no bad memory, who told me,
" that he had never dreamed in his life, till he had that
" fever he was then newly recovered of, \\Jiich was about
" the five or si x_ and twentieth year of his age. I suppose the
44 world affords more such instahces."
Essay on Human Understanding, book 2. ch. 1.
A young gentleman of m^ acquaintance never dreams
at all, except when his health is disordered.
CHAP. It. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 177
existence of body ; they give us this information in
consequence of a law established by the divine will :
but God is no deceiver ; therefore is their informa
tion true. I have formerly given my opinion of this
argument, and shewn that it is a sophism, as the
author states it. We must believe our faculties to
be true, before we can be convinced, either by
proof, or by intuitive evidence. If we refuse to be
lieve in our faculties, till their veracity be first as-
certained by reasoning, we shall never believe in
them at all *.
MALEBRANCHE f says, that men are more certain
of the existence of God, than of the existence of bo
dy. He allows, that DES CARTES has proved the
existence of body by the strongest arguments that
reason alone could furnish ; nay, he seems to ac
knowledge those arguments to be unexceptionable :
yet he does not admit, that they amount to a full
demonstration of the existence of matter. In phi
losophy, says he, we ought to maintain our liberty
as long as we-- can, and to believe nothing but what
evidence compels us to believe. To be fully con
vinced of the existence of bodies, it is necessary that
we have it demonstrated to us, not only that there
is a God, and that he is no deceiver, but also that
God hath assured us, that he has actually created
such bodies ; and this, says he, I do not fiad proved
in the works of M. DES CARTES.
There are, according to MALEBRANCHE, but two
ways in which God speaks to the mind, and compels
(or obliges) it to believe j to wit, by evidence, and
* See the preceding section.
f Recherche dc la verlte, torn. 3. p. 30. A Paris, chez
Pralard, 1679.
I Mais quoique M. DES CARTES ait donne les preu-
ves le plus fortes que la raison toute seule puisse fournir
pour Pexistence des corps j quoiqu il soit evident, que
Dieu ft est point trompeur, et qu on puisse dire qu il nous
P a
178 AN ESSAY CN TRUTH. PART IT.
by the faith. " The faith obliges us to believe
" that bodies exist; but as to the evidence of this
" truth, it certainly is not complete : and it is also
" certain, that we are not invincibly determined to
" believe, that any thing exists, but God, and o, r
41 own mind. Jt is true, that we have an extreme
" propensity to believe, that we are surrounded
4t with corporeal beings ; so far I agree with M.
" BES CARTES: but this propensity, natural as it
<( is, doth not force our belief by evidence; it only
" inclines us to believe by impression. Now we
" ought not to be determined, in our free judgments,
*< by any thing but light and evidence ; if we suf-
" fer ourselves to be guided by the sensible impres-
"- sicn, we shall be almost always mistaken *."
trompeiGitefFectivemenl,sruous nous trompions nous-memes
faisant 1 usage que nous devons faire de notre esprit, et
des autres facultez dont il est 1 auteur ; cependant on peut
dire qvie Texistence de la raatiere ne st point encore par-
faitement demontree. Car, enfin, en matiere d philoso
phic, nous ne devons croire quoique ce soit, que Icrsqiie /
evidence nous y oblige. Nous devons faire usage de notre
liberte* autant que nous le pouvons. Pour etre pleine-
ment convaincus qu il a des corps, il faut qu on nous de-
montre, non seulement qu il y a un Dieu, et que Dieu n
est point trompeur, mais encore que Dieu, nous a assure
qu il en a efFectivement crte : ce que je ne trouve point
prouve dans les cuvrages de M. DES CARTES.
Tom. 3. p. 37, 38. 39.
* Dieu ne parle a 1 esprit, et ne 1 oblige a croire qu e n
deux manieres : par Pevidence, et par la foi." Je demeure
d accord, que la foi oblige a croire qu il y. a des corps j ma-
js pour T evidence, il est certain, cu elle n est point entiere
et que nous, ne sommes point invinciblement portez a cro
ire qu il y ait quelqu autre chose que Dieu et notre esprit.
II est vray, que nous avons un penchant extreme ti croire
qu il y a des corps qui nous environnent. Je 1 accorde a
M. DES CARTES : mais ce penchant, tout naturel. qu il
est, ne nous y force point par evidence j il nous y incline
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TROTS.
Our author, then proposes, in brief, the substance
of that argument against the existence of body
which BERKELEY afterwards took such pains to il
lustrate ; and discovers, upon the whole, that, as a
point of philosophy the existence of matter is but
a probability, to which we have it in onr power either
to assent, or not to assent, as we please. Li a
word, it is by the faith, and not by evidence, thut we
become certain of this truth.
This is not a proper place for analysing the pas-
cage above quoted, otherwise it would be easy to
show, that the doctrine (such as it is) which the
author here delivers, is not reconcileable with, other
parts of his system. But I only mean to observe,
that what is here asserted of our belief in the exis
tence of body being not necessary, but such as we
may with-hold if we please, is contrary to my ex
perience. That my body, and this pen and paper,
and the other corporeal objects around me, do real-
Jy exist, is to me as evident, as that my soul exists ;
it is indeed so evident, that nothing is or can be
more so ; and though my life depended upon the
consequence, I could not, by any effort, bring myselt
to entertain a doubt of it, even for a single moment.
I must therefore affirm, that the existence of mat
ter can no more be disproved by argument, than the
existence of myself, or than the truth of a self-evi
dent axiom in geometry. To argue against it, is to
set reason in opposition to common sense j which is
seulement par impression. Or nouns ne devons suivre
dans nos jugemens libres que la lumiere et Pevidence j et
si nous nous laissons conduire a Pimpression sensible, nous
nous tromperons presque toujours. Tom. 3./>. 39. Lafoi I
translate Thefoith, because I suppose the author to mean
the Christian or Catholic faith. If \ve take it to denote
faith or be/iff in general, I know not how we shall ir.ake
any sense of the passage.
l8o AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. . PART II.
indirectly to subvert the foundation of all just rea
soning, and to call in question the distinction between
truth and falsehood. We are told, however, that a
great philosopher has actually demonstrated, that
matter does not exist. Demonstrated ! truly this is
a piece of strange information. At this rate, any
falsehood may be proved to be true, and any truth
to be false. For it is impossible, that any truth
should be more evident to me than this, that matter
does exist. Let us see, however, what BERKELEY
has to say in behalf of this extraordinary doctrine.
Jt is natural for demonstration, and for all sound rea
soning, to produce conviction, or at least some de
gree of assent, in the person who attends to it, and
understands it. I read The Principles of Human
Knowledge, together with The Dialogues between
Hylas and Philonous. The arguments I confess, are
subtle, and well adapted to the purpose of puzzling
and confounding. Perhaps I will not undertake to
confute them. Perhaps I am busy, or indolent, or
unacquainted with the principles of this philosophy,
or little versed in your metaphysical logic. But am
1 convinced, from this pretended demonstration, that
matter has no existence but as an. idea in the mind ?
Not in" the least ; uvy belief now is precisely the
same as before. Is it unphilosophical, not to be con
vinced by arguments which I am not able to con
fute ? Perhaps it. rnay, but I cannot help it : you
raay, if you please strike me off the list of philoso
phers, as a non-conformist ; you may call me unplianr,
unreasonable, unfashionable, and a man with whoir*
it is not worth while to argue : but till the frame of
my nature be unhinged, and a new set of faculties
given me, I cannot believe this strange doctrine, be
cause it is perfectly incredible. But if I were per
mitted to propose one clownish question, I would
fain ask, Where is the harm of my continuing in my
old opinion, and believing, with the rest of the world-,
that I am not the only created being in the universe,
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH.
but that there are many others, whose existence is as?
independent on me, as mine is on them ? Where is
the harm of my believing, that if I were to fall down
yonder precipice, and break my neck, I should be no
more a man of this world ? My neck, Sir, may be an
idea to you, but to me it is a reality, and an impor
tant one too. Where is the harm of my believing,
that if in this severe weather, I w r ere to neglect to
throw (what you call) the idea of a, coat over the:
ideas of my shoulders, the idea of cold would pro
duce the idea of such pain and disorder as might pos
sibly terminate in my real death ? What great of
fence shall I commit against God or man, church or
state, philosophy or common sense, if I continue to
believe, that material food will nourish me, though-
the idea of it will not ; that the real sun will warm
and enlighten me, though the liveliest idea of him
will do neither ; and that, if I would obtain true peace
of mind and self approbation, I must not only form*
ideas of compassion, justice, and generosity, but al
so really exert those virtues in external performance ?
What harm is there in all this ? O ! no harm at all,,
Sir ; but the truth, the truth, will you shut
your eyes against the truth ? No honest man ever
will: convince me that your doctrine is true, and I
will instantly embrace it.-r-Havel not convinced thee^
thou obstinate, unaccountable, inexorable? An
swer ray arguments, if thou canst. Alas, Sir, you
have given me arguments in abundance, but you have
not given me conviction ? and if your arguments pro
duce no conviction, they are worth nothing, to me.
They are like -counterfeit bank-bills ; some of which?
are so dexterously forged, that neither your eye nor
mine can detect them ; yet a thousand of them would,
go for nothing at the bank ; and even the paper-
maker would allow me more handsomely for old rags e
You need not give yourself the trouble to tell me r
that I ought to be convinced : I ought to be convinced:
only when I feel conviction j when I feel.no convic~<
182 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
tion, I ought not to be convinced. It has been ob
served of some doctrines and reasonings, that their
extreme absurdity prevents their admitting a rational
confutation. What ! am I to believe such doctrine ?
am 1 to be convinced by such reasoning ? Now, I
never heard of any doctrine more scandalously ab
surd, than this of the non-existence of matter. There
is not a fiction in the Persian tales that I could not
as easily believe ; the silliest conceit of the most con
temptible superstition that ever disgraced human na
ture, is not more shocking to common sense, is not
more repugnant to every principle of human belief.
And must I admit this jargon for truth, because I
cannot confute the arguments of a man who is a more
subtle disputant than I? Does philosophy require
this of me ? Then it must suppose, that truth is a5
variable as the fancies, the characters, and the in
tellectual abilities of men, and that there is no such
thing in nature as common sense.
But all this, 1 shall perhaps be told, is but child
ish cavil, and unphilosophical declamation. What if,
after all this very doctrine be believed, and the so
phistry (as you call it) of BERKELEY be admitted as
sound reasoning, and legitimate proof? What then
becomes of your common sense, and your instinctive
convictions ? What then, do you ask ? Then indeed
I acknowledge the fact to be very extraordinary ;
and I cannot help being in some pain about the con
sequences, which must be important and fatal. If a
man, out of vanity, or from a desire of being in the fa
shion, or in order to pass for wonderfully wise, shall
say, that BERKELEY S doctrine is true, while at the
same time his belief is precisely the same with mine
it is well ; I leave him to enjoy the fruits of his hy
pocrisy, which will no doubt contribute mightily to
his improvement in candour, happiness, and wisdom.
If a man professing this doctrine act like other men
in the common affairs of life, I will not believe his
profession to be sincere. For this doctrine, by re-
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 185
moving body out of the universe, makes a total
change in the circumstances of men ; and therefore
if it is not merely verbal, must produce a total change
in their conduct. When a man is only turned out
of his house, or stripped of his clothes, or robbed of
his money, he must change "his behaviour, and act
differently from other men, who enjoy these advanta
ges. Persuade a man that he is a beggar and a va
gabond, and you shall instantly see him change his
manners. If your arguments against the existence of
matter have ever carried conviction along with them,
they must at the same time have produced a much
more extraordinary change of conduct ; but if they
have produced no change of conduct, I insist on it,
they have never carried conviction along with them,
whatever vehemence of protestation men may have
used in avowing such conviction. If you say, that
though a man s understanding be convinced, there
are certain instincts in his nature that will not per
mit him to alter his conduct ; or, if he did, the rest
of the world would account him a mad-man ; by the
first apology, you allow the belief of the non-exis
tence of body to be inconsistent with the laws of
nature ; by the second, to be inconsistent with com
mon sense.
Bat if a man be convinced, that matter has no ex
istence, and believe this strange tenet as steadily, and
with as little distrust, as I believe the contrary ; he
will, I am afraid, have but little reason to applaud
himself oft this new acquisition in science ; he will
soon find, it had been better for him to have reasoned,
and believed, and acted, like the rest of the world.
If he fall down a precipice, or be trampled under
foot by horses, it will avail him little, that he once
had the honour to be a disciple of BERKELEY, and to
believe that those dangerous objects are nothing but
ideas in the mind. And yet, if such a man be seen
to avoid a precipice, or to get out of the way of a
coach and six horses at full speed, he acts as in con-..
184 ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
sistentlj \vith his belief, as if he ran away from the
picture of an angry man, even while he believed it
to be a picture. Supposing his life preserved by
the care of friends, or by the strength of natural in
stinct urging him to act contrary to his belief ; yet
will this belief cost Him dear. For if the plainest
evidence, and fullest conviction, be certainly fallaci
ous, I beg to be informed, what kind of evidence,
and what degree of conviction, may reasonably be
depended on. If nature be a juggler by trade, is it
for us, poor purblind reptiles, to attempt to pene
trate the mysteries of her art, and take upon us to
decide, when it is she presents a true, and when a
false appearance ! I will not say, however, that this
man runs a greater risk of universal scepticism, than
of universal credulity. Either the one or the other,
or both, must be his portion ; and either the one or
the other would be sufficient to imbitter my whole
life, and to disqualify me for every duty of a ration
al creature. He who can believe against common
sense, and against the clearest evidence, and against
the fullest conviction, in any one case, may do the
same in any other ; consequently he may become the
dupe of every wrangler who is more acute than he ;
and then, if he is not entirely secluded from mankind,
his liberty, and happiness, are gone for ever. Indeed
a chearful temper, strong habits of virtue, and the
company of the w r ise and good, may still save him
from perdition, if he have no temptations nor diffi
culties to encounter. But it is the end of every use
ful art, to teach us to surmount, difficulties, not to
disqualify us for attempting them. Men have been
known to live many years in a warm chamber, after
they were become too delicate to bear the open air ;
but who will say, that such a habit of body is de
sirable ? what physician will recommend to the
healthy such a regimen as would produce it ?
But, that I may no longer suppose, what I main
tain to be impossible, that mankind in general, or
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY Otf TRUTH. 1 85
even one rational being, could, by force of argument,
be convinced, that this absurd doctrine is true ;
what if all men were in one instant deprived of their
understanding by Almighty power, and made to be-
lieve, that matter has no existence but as an idea in
the mind, all other earthly things remaining as they
are ? Doubtless this catastrophe would, according
to our metaphysicians, throw a wonderful light on
all the parts of knowledge. I pretend not even to
guess at the number, extent, or quality, of astoni
shing discoveries that would then start forth into
view. But of this I am certain, that in less than a
month after, there could not, without another miracle,
be one human creature alive on the face of the earth.
BERKELEY foresaw, and has done" what he could
to obviate, some of these objections. There are two
points which he has taken great pains o prove. The
first is, That his system differs not from the belief
of the rest of mankind ; the second, That our con
duct cannot be in the least affected by our disbelief
of the existence of a material world.
i. As to the first, it is certainly false. Mr HUME
himself seems willing to give it up. 1 have known
many who could not answer BERKELEY S arguments ;
I never knew one who believed his doctrine. I have
mentioned it to some who were unacquainted with
philosophy, and therefore could not be supposed to
have any bias in favour of either system ; they all
treated it as most contemptible jargon, and what no
man in his senses ever did or could believe. I have
carefully attended to the effects produced by it upon
my own mind ; and it appears to me at this moment,
as when I first heard it, incredible and incomprehen
sible. I say incomprehensible : for though, by read
ing it over and over, I have got a set of phrases and
arguments by heart, which would enable me, if I
were so disposed, to talk, and argue, and write, " a-
bout it and about it 5" yet, when I lay systems and
syllogisms aside, when 1 enter on any part of the
186 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART rr.
business of life, or when I refer the matter to the
unbiassed decision of my own mind, 1 plainly see, that
I had no distinct meaning to my words when I said,
that the material world has no existence but in thec
mind that perceives it. In a word, if this author had
asserted, that I and all mankind acknowledge and
believe the Arabian Nights Entertaiment to be a
true history, I could not have had any better reason
tradicting this, " That Bj-:RKELtY s principles in re-
" gard to the existence of matter, differ not from the
" belief of the rest of mankind. "
2. In behalf of the second point he argues, " That
" nothing gives us an interest in the material world,
" except the feelings pleasant or painful which ac-
" company our perceptions ; that these perceptions
" are the same, whether we believe the material
" world to exist or not to exist ; consequently, that
" our pleasant or painful feelings are also the same ;
(< and therefore, that our conduct, which depends on
" our feelings and perceptions, must be the same,
" whether we believe -or disbelieve the existence of
" matter."
But if it be certain, that by the law of our nature
we are unavoidably determined to believe that mat
ter exists, and to act upon this belief, (and nothing,
I think, is more certain^), how can it be imagined,
that a contrary belief Would produce no alteration in
our conduct and sentiments ? Surely tVe laws of na
ture are not such trifles, as that it should be a mat
ter of perfect indifference, whether we act and think
agreeably to them or not ? I believe that matter ex
ists ; I must believe that matter exists ; I must
continually act upon this belief; such is the law of
my constitution. Suppose my constitution changed
in this respect, all other things remaining as they .
are ; would there- then be no change in my senti
ments and conduct ? If there would not, then is this
law of nature, in the first place, useless, because
inen could do as well without it 4 secondly, in-
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 187
convenient, because its end is to keep us ignorant
of the truth ; and, thirdly, absurd, because insuf
ficient for answering its end, the Bishop of Cloyne,
and others, having, it seems, discovered the truth
in spite of it. Is this according to the usual econo
my of Nature ? Does this language become her
servants and interpreters ? Is it possible to devise
any sentiments or maxims more subversive of truth,
and more repugnant to the spirit of true philoso
phy ?
Further: All external. objects have some qualities
in common ; but between an external object and an
idea, or thought of the mind; there is not, there can
not possibly be, any resemblance. A grain of sand,
and the globe of the earth ; a burning coal, and a
lump of ice ; a drop of ink, and a sheet of white
paper, resemble each other, in being extended, solid,
figured, coloured, and divisible ; but a thought or
idea has no extension, solidity, figure, colour, nor
divisibility : so that no two external objects can be
so unlike, ?.s an external object and (what philoso
phers call^) the idea of it. Now we are taught by
BERKELEY, that external objects, (that is, the things
xve take for external objects^) are nothing but ideas
in our minds ; in other words, that they are in e-
very respect different from what they appear to be.
This candle, it seems, hath not one of those quali
ties it appears to have : it is not white, nor lumi
nous, nor round, nor divisible, nor extended ; for
to an idea of the mind, not one of these qualities
can possibly belong. How then shall I know what it
really is ? From what it seems to be, I can conclude
nothing ; no more than a blind man, by handling a,
bit of black \vax, can judge of the colour of saow,
or the visible appearance of the starry heavens.
The candle may be an Egyptian pyramid, the king
of Prussia, a mad dog, or nothing at all : it may be
the island of Madagascar, Saturn s ring, or one of
the Pleiad es ; for any thing I , know, or can ever
0.
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
know to the contrary, except you allow me to judp-e
of its nature from its appearance ; which, however,
I cannot reasonably do, if its appearance and nature
are in every respect so different and unlike as not to
liave one single quality in common. I must there
fore believe it to be, what it appears to be, a real,
corporeal, external object, and so reject BERKE
LEY S system ; or I never can, with any shadow of
reason, believe any thing whatsoever concerning it.
Will it yet be said, that the belief of this system
cannot in the least affect our sentiments and conduct ?
With equal truth may it be said, that Newton s con
duct and sentiments would not have been in the least
affected by his being metamorphosed into an ideot,
or a pillar of sail.
Some readers may perhaps be dissatisfied with
this reasoning, on account of the ambiguity of the
words external object and idea ,* which, however,
the assertors of the non-existence of matter have not
as yet fully explained. Others may think that I
must have misunderstood the author ; for that he
was too acute a logician to leave his system exposed
to objections so decisive, and so obvious. To gra
tify such readers, I will not insist on these objec
tions. That I may have misunderstood the author s
doctrine, is not only possible, but highly probable ;
nay, I have reason to think, that it was not perfect
ly understood even by himself. For did not BER
KELEY write his Principles of Human Knowledge,
with this express view, (which does him great ho
nour), to banish scepticism both from science and
from religion ? Was he not sanguine in his expecta
tions of success ? And has not the event proved,
vhat he was egregiously mistaken ? For is it not e-
videnr, from the use to which later authors have ap
plied it, that his system leads directly to atheism
and universal scepticism ? And if a machine disap
point its inventor so far as to produce effects contrary
to those he wished, intended, and expected ; may
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH.
we not, without breach of charity, conclude, that
he did not perfectly understand his plan ? At any
rate, it appears from this fact, that our author did
not foresee all the objections to which his theory is
liable, He did not foresee, that it might be made
the foundation of a sceptical system ; i: he had, we
know he would have renounced it with abhorrence.
This one objection therefore, (in which I think I
cannot be mistaken), will fully answer my present
purpose : Our author s doctrine is contrary to com
mon belief, and leads to universal scepticism. Sup
pose it, then, universally and seriously adopted ;
suppose all men divested of all belief, and conse
quently of all principle : would not the dissolution
of society, and the destruction of mankind necessa-
rily>ensue ?
Still I shall be told, that BERKELEY was a good
.man, and that his principles did him no hurt. I al
low it ; he was indeed a most excellent person ;
none can revere his memory more than I. But does
it appear, that he ever acted according to his princi
ples, or that he thoroughly understood them ? Does
it appear, that, if he had put them in practice, no
hurt would have ensued to himself *, or to society ?
* Let it not be pretended, that a man may disbelieve
his senses without danger of inconvenience. Pyrrho (as
we read in Diogenes Laertius) professed to disbelieve his
senses, and to be in no apprehension from any of the ob
jects that affected them. The appearance of a precipice
or wild beast was nothing to Pyrrho , at least he said so :
lie would not avoid them j he knew they were nothing at
all, or at least that they were not what they seemed to be.
Suppose him to have been in earnest * ? and suppose his
keepers to have in earnest adopted the same principles :
would not their limbs and lives have been in as great dan
ger, as the limbs and life of a blind and deaf man wander
ing by himself in a solitary place, with his hands tied be
hind his back ? I would as soon say, that our senses are
useless faculties, as that we might disbelieve thera without
danger of inconvenience.
IpO AN ESSAT ON TRUTH. PART II.
Does it appear, that he \vas a sceptic, or a friend to
scepticism ? Does it appear, that men may adopt
his principles without danger of becoming sceptics ?
The contrary of all this appears with uncontrovertr-
ble evidence.
Surely pride was not made for man. The most
exalted genius may find in himself many affecting
memorials of human frailty, and such as often ren
der him an object of compassion to those who in vir
tue and understanding are far inferior. I pity BERKE
LEY S weakness in patronising an absurd and dan
gerous theory ; I doubt not but it may have over
cast many of his days with a rioom, which neither
the approbation of his conscience, nor the natural se
renity of his temper, could entirely dissipate. And
though I were to believe, thai he was intoxicated
with this theory, and rejoiced in it ; yet still I
should pity the intoxication a? a weakness : for can.
dour will not permit me to r.ive it a harsher name ;
as I see in his other writings, and know by the tes
timony of his contemporaries, particularly Pope and
Swift, that he was a friend to virtue, and to human
nature,
We must -not suppose a false doctrine harmless,
merely because it has net been able to corrupt the
heart of a good man. Nor, because a few sceptics
have not authority to render science contemptibly
nor power to overturn society, must we suppose,
that therefore scepticism is not dangerous to science
or mankind. The effects of a general scepticism
would be dreadful and fatal. We must therefore,
notwithstanding our reverence for the character of
BERKELEY, be permitted to affirm, what we have
sufficiently proved, that his doctrine is subversive
of man s most important interests, as amoral, intel
ligent, and percipient being.
After all, though I were to grant, that the disbe
lief of the existence of matter could not produce any
considerable change in our principles of action and
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TUUTH.
reasoning, the reader will find in the sequel *, that
the point I have chiefly in view would not be much
affected even by that concession. I say not this, as
being diffident or sceptical in regard to what I have
advanced on the present subject. Doctrines which
I do not believe, I will never recommend to others*
I am absolutely certain, that to me the belief of BER
KELEY S system would be attended with the most
fatal consequences ; and that it would be equally
dangerous to the rest of mankind, 1 cannot doubt, so
Jong as I believe their nature and mine to be the
same.
Though it be absurd to attempt a proof of what
is self-evident, it is manly and meritorious to confute
the objections that sophistry may urge against it
This, with respect to the subject in question, has
been done,, .in a decisive and masterly, manner, by
the learned and sagacious Dr Reid f ; who proves 9
that the reasonings of BERKELEY, and others, con
cerning primary and secondary qualities , owe al
* Part 2,. chap, 3.
t Inquiry into the Human Mind on the Principles of
Common Sense.
t DES CARTES, LOCKE, and BERKELEY suppose, that,
what v/e call a body is nothing but a collection of qualities j
and these they divide -in* primary and secondary, Of the
former kind are magnitude, extension, solidity, &c. which
LOCKE and the CARTESIANS allow to belong to bodies at
all times, whether perceived or not. v Of- the latter kind
are \\iQ-heat cffire, tfie xtf?/?// and taste of a rose, &c. and
these, by the same authors, and by BERKELEY are said to
exist not in the bodies themselves, -but only in the mind
that perceives them : -an error they are led into by sup
posing, that the words heat^ taste\ sme// t &tc. signify noth
ing but a perception^ whereas. -we have formerly shown ?
that they also signify an external thing. BERKELEY, fol
lowing the hints which he found in Diis CARTES, MALE-
BRANCHE and LOCKE, has applied the same mode of rea
soning to prove^ that primary, as well as secondary quail-
0,3
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
their strength to the ambiguity of words. I have
proved, that, though this fundamental error had
never beeu detected, the philosophy of BERKELEY is
in its own nature absurd, because it supposes the
original principles of common sense controvertibk
and fallacious : a supposition repugnant to the geni
us of true philosophy ; and which leads to universal
credulity, or universal scepticism ; and, consequent
ly, to the subversion of knowledge and virtue, and
the extermination of the human species,
It is proper, before we proceed to the next in
stance, to make a remark or two on what has beeu
said.
1. Here we have an instance of a doctrine advan
ced by some philosophers, in direct contradiction to
the general belief of all men in all ages.
2. The reasoning by which it is supported,
though long accounted unanswerable, did never pro
duce a serious and steady conviction. Common
sense still declared the doctrine to be false ; we wera
sorry to find the powers of human reason so limited,
as not to afford a logical confutation of it ; we were
convinced it merited confutation, and flattered our
selves, that one time or other it would be confuted.
3. The real and general belief of this doctrine
would be attended with fatal consequences to science,
and to human nature : for this is a doctrine accord~
ing to which a man could not act nor reason in the
common affairs of life,, without incurring the charge
of insanity or folly, and involving himself in dis
tress and perdition.
4. An ingenious man, from a sense of the bad
tendency of this doctrine, applies himself to examine
the principieb on, which it is founded j discovers
ties, have no external existence j and consequently, that
bcdy (which consists of these two classes of qualities, can
nothing else) exists only as an idea in the mind that per
ceives t, and exists no longer than yrhile it is perceived,
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, I 93
them to be erroneous ; and proves, to the full con
viction of all competent judges, that from beginning.
to end it is all a mystery of falsehood, arising from-
the use of ambiguous expressions, and from the gra
tuitous admission of principles which never could
have been admitted if they had been thoroughly un
derstood.
SECT. TIT.
Of Liberty and Necessity.
r "PHE second instance to which I purpose to apply
*" the principles of this discourse, by showing the
danger of carrying any investigation beyond the dic
tates of common sense, is no other than the celebra
ted question concerning liberty and necessity ; a ques
tion en which many things have been said, and some
things, I presume, to little purpose. To enter into
all the particulars of this controversy^ is foreign to
my present design ; and I would not wish to add to
a dispute already too bulky., My intention, is, to
trearthe doctrine of necessity as I treated that of the
non-existence of matter ; by enquiring, whether the
one be not, as well as the other, contrary to common*
sense, and therefore absurd,
1. That certain intentions and actions are in them
selves, and previous to all consideration of their con
sequences, good, laudable,, and meritorious 5 and that
other actions and intentions are* bad, blameable, and
worthy of punishment, has been felt and acknow
ledged by all; reasonable creatures in all ages and na
tions. We need not wonder at the universality of
this sentiment : it is:as natural to the human consti
tution, as the faculties of hearing, seeing, and me
mory ; it is as clear, unequivocal, and affecting, as
any intimation from any sense external or internal. -
2. That we cannot do some things, but have it inl
cur power to do others, is what no man in his senses,
will hesitate to affirm. I can take up my staff from
the ground, but I cannot lift a stone of a thousand
AX ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
weight. On a common, I may walk southward or
northward, eastward or westward ; but I cannot as
cend to the clouds, nor sink downward to the centre
of the earth. Just now I have power to think of an
absent friend, of the Peak of Teneriffe, of a passage
in Homer, or of the death of Charles I. "When a
man asks me a question, I have it in my power to
answer or be silent, to answer softly or roughly, in
terms of respect or in terms of contempt. Frequent
temptations to vice fall in my way 5 I may yield, or
I may resist : if I resist, I applaud myself, because I
am conscious it was in my power to do otherwise ;
if I yield, I am filled with shame and remorse, for
having neglected to do what I might have done, and
ought to have done. My liberty in these instances
I cannot prove by argument ; but there is not a truth
in geometry of which I am more certain.
Is not this doctrine sufficiently obvious ? Must
I quote EpictetuSj or any other ancient author, to
prove that men were of the same opinion in former
times ? No idea occurs more frequently in my read,
ing and conversation, than that of power or agency ;
and I think-- 1 understand my own meaning as well
when I speak of it, as when I speak of any thing
else. But this idea has had the misfortune to come
under the examination of Mr HUME, who, according
to custom, has found means so to darken and disfigure
it, that, till we have cleared it of his misrepresenta*.
tions, we cannot proceed any further in the present
subject. And we are the more inclined to digress on
this occasion, that he has made his theory of power
th" ground of some atheistical inferences, which we
should not scruple at any time to step out of our
way to ov- rturn. Perhaps these frequent digrts-
sions are offer- si ve to the reader : they are equally
so to the writer. To remove rubbish is neither an
elegant nor a pleasant work, but it. s ofr^n necessary.
It is peculiarly necessary in the phijoso hy of human
Mature. The road to moral truth has been left in
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 195
such a plight by some modern projectors, that a man
of honesty and plain sense must either, with great
labour, and loss of time, delve his way through, or
be swallowed up in a quagmire. The metaphysician
ulvances more easily. His levity, perhaps, enables
him, like Camilla in Virgil, to skim along the sur
face without sinking ; or perhaps, the extreme sub
tlety of his genius can, like Satan in Paradise Lost,
penetrate this chaos, without being much incumber-
ed or retarded in his progress. But men of ordi
nary talents have net those advantages, and must
therefore be allowed to flounce along, though with no
very graceful motion, the best way they can.
All ideas, according to Mr HUME S fundamental
hypothesis, are copied from and represent iu!];res-
sions : But we have never any impression that con
tains any power or efficacy : We never, therefore,
have any idea of power *. In proof of the minor
proposition of this syllogism, he remarks, That
" when we think we perceive our mind acting on
" matter, or one piece of matter acting upon another,
" we do in fact perceive only two objects or events
" contiguous and successive, the second of which is
" always found in experience to follow the first ;
" but that we never perceive, either by external
" sense, or by consciousness, that power, energy, or
" efficacy, which connects the one event with the
" other. By observing that the two events do al-
4< ways accompany each other, the imagination ac-
" quires a habit of going readily from the first to the
" second, and from the second to the first ; and hence
" we are led to conceive a kind of necessary con-
" nexion between them. But in fact there is neither
" necessity nor power in the objects we consider, but
" only in the mind that considers them ; and even in
" the mind, this power of necessity is nothing but a
* determination of the fancy, acquired by habit, to
* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 282.
196 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
" pass from the idea of an object to that of its usual
" attendant *." So that what we call the efficacy
of a cause to produ.: ;; an effect, is neither in the cause
nor in the effect, bi, only in the imagination, which
has contracted a habit of passing from the object cal
led the cause, to the object called the effect, and thus
associating them together. Has the fire a power to
melt lead ? No j but the fancy is determined by habit
to pass from the idea of fire to that of melted lead,
on account of our having always perceived them con
tiguous and successive and this is the whole matter.
Have I a power to move rry arm ? No ; the volition
that precedes the motion c : oiy arm has no connexion
with that motion ; but -^ie motion having been al
ways observed to follow the volition, comes to be
associated with it in the fancy ; and what we call
the power, or necessary connexion, has nothing to do
either with the volition or with the motion, but is
merely a determination of my fancy, or your fancy,
or any body s fancy, to associate the idea or im
pression of my volition with the impression or idea
of the motion of my arm I am sorry 1 cannot ex
press myself more clearly ; but I should not do jus
tice to my author, if I did not imitate his obscurity
on the present occasion : plain words will never do
when one has an unintelligible doctrine to support.
What shall we say to this collection of strange
phrases ? or what name shall we give it ? Shall we
call it a most ingenuous discovery, illustrated by a
most ingenuous argument ? This would be compli
menting the author at a very great expsnce ; for this
would imply, not only that Mr Hume is the wisest
of mortal men, but also that he is the only individual
of that species of animals who is not a fool. Certain
it is, that all men have in all ages talked, and argued,
and acted, from a persuasion that they had a very
distinct notion of power. If our author can prove,
that they had no such notion, he can also prove, that
* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 272 300,
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 197
all human discourse is nonsense, all human actions ab
surdity, and all human compositions fhis own not
cxcepted) words without meaning. The boldness
of this theory, will, however, pass with many, for a
proof of its being ingenuous. Be it so, Gentlemen,
I dispute not about epithets ; if you will have it,
that genius consisteth in the art of putting words to
gether so as to form absurd propositions. I have
nothing more to say. Others will admire this doc
trine, because the words by which the author means
to illustrate and prove it, if printed on a good paper
and with an elegant type, would of themselves make
a pretty sizeable volume. It were pity to deprive
these people of the pleasure of admiring ; otherwise
I might tell them, that nothing is more easy than
this method of composition ; for that I would under
take, at a very short warning, (if it could be done
innocently, and without prejudice to my health), to
write as many pages, with equal appearance of rea
son and argument, and with equal advantage to phi
losophy and mankind, in vindication of any given ab
surdity: provided only, that (like the absurdity in
question) it were expressed in words of which one
at least is ambiguous.
In truth, I am so little disposed to admire this ex
traordinary paradox, that nothing could make me be
lieve its author to have been in earnest, if I had not
found him drawing inferences from it too serious to
be jested with by any person who is not absolutely
distracted. It is one of Mr HUME S maxims, That
we can never have reason to believe, that any object,
or quality of an object, exists, of which we cannot
form an idea *. But, according to this astonishing
theory of power, and causation, we can form no idea
of power, nor of any being endowed with any power,
MUCH LESS of one endowed with infinite power f.
* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 302.
f Some readers will smile, perhaps, at the phraseology
of this sentence j but I quote the author s own words. See
Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 432.
198 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II,
The inference is what I do not chuse to commii
to paper. But our elegant author is not so super
stitious. He often puts his readers in mind, that
this inference, or something very like it, is deducible
from his doctrine * : for which, no doubt, every
friead to truth, virtue, and human nature is infmuely
obliged to him !
But what do you say in opposition to my theory r
You affect to treat it with a contempt which hardly
becomes you, and which my philosophy has nofc met
with from your betters ! pray let us hear your ar
guments And do you, Sir, really think it incum
bent on me to prove by argument, that 1, and all o-
ther men, have a notion of power ; and that the effi
cacy of a cause (of fire, for instance, to melt lead) is
in the cause, and not in my mind ? Would you think
it incumbent on me to confute you with arguments,
if you were pleased to affirm, that all men have tails
and cloven feet ; and that it was I who produced the
earthquake that destroyed Lisbon, the plague that
depopulates Constantinople, the heat that scorches
the wilds of Africa, and the cold that freezes the
Hyperborean ocean ? Truly, Sir, I have not the face
to undertake a direct confutation of what I do not
understand ; and I am so far from comprehending this
part of your system, that 1 will venture to pronounce
it perfectly unintelligible. I know there are some
who say they understand it ; but I also know, that
there are some who speak, and read, and write too,
ivith very little expence of thought.
These are all but evasions, you exclaim ; and in
sist on rny coming to the point. Never fear, Sir ; I
am too deeply interested in some of the consequences
of this theory of yours, to put you off with evasions.
To come therefore to the point, I shall first state
your doctrine in your own words, that there may be
no risk of misrepresentation ; and then if I should
* Treatise of Human Nature p. ,284,. 29 1, 306, 431.
CflAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 199
not be able directly to prove it false, (for the reason
already given), I shall demonstrate, indirectly at
least, or by the apagogical method, that it is not,
and cannot possibly be true.
"As the necessity," says Mr HUME, "which
" makes two times two equal to four, or three angles
" of a triangle equal to two right ones, lies only in
" the act of the understanding, by which we consider
" and compare these ideas* , in like manner, the ne-
<( cessity or power which unites causes and effects, lies
" in the determination of the mind to pass from the
" one to the other. The efficacy, or energy, of causes
" is neither placed in the causes themselves, nor in
" the Deity, nor in the concurrence of these two
" principles ; but belongs entirely to the soul, which
" considers the union of two or more objects in all
" past instances. It is here that the real power of
" causes is placed along with their connexion and
" necessity f."
To find that his principles lead to atheism, w r ould
stagger an ordinary philosopher, and make him sus
pect his fundamental hypothesis, and all his subse
quent reasonings. But the author now quoted is not
staggered by considerations of this kind. On the
contrary, he is so intoxicated with his discovery,
that, however sceptical in other points, he seems will
ing to admit this as one certain conclusion J.
* What ! is it my understanding that makes two and
two equal to four ! Was it not so before I was born, and
would it not be so though all intelligence were to cease
throughout the universe ! But it is idle to spend time in
confuting what every child who has learned the very first
tlements of science, knows to be absurd.
f Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 291.
} Speaking of it in another place, he says, " A conclu-
" sion which is somewhat extraordinary, but which seems
** founded on sufficient evidence. Nor will its evidence
" be weakened by any general diffidence of the understand"
2CG AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
If a man can reconcile himself to atheism, which is
the greatest of all absurdities, I fear, I shall hardly
put him out of conceit with his doctrine, when I show
him that other less enormous absurdities are implied
in it. We may make the trial however. Gentle
men are sometimes pleased to entertain unaccount
able prejudices against their Maker ; who yet, in o-
ther matters, where neither fashion nor hypothesis in
terfere, condescend to acknowledge, that the good old
distinction between truth and falsehood is not alto
gether without foundation.
On the supposition that we have no idea of power
or energy, and that the preceding theory of causation
is just, our author gives the following definition of a
cause ; which seems to be fairly enough deduced from
his theory, and which he says is the best that he can
give. " A cause is an object precedent and conti-
" guous to another, and so united with it, that the
" idea of the one determines the mind to form the
" idea of the other, and the impression of the one to
" form a more lively idea of the other*." There
are now in my view two contiguous houses one of
which was built last summer, and the other two
" ing, or sceptical suspicion, concerning every conclusion
** which is new and extraordinary. No conclusion can be
" more agreeable to scepticism than such as make discover-
<; ies concerning the weakness and narrow limits of human
" reason and capacity."
Plume s Essays, vol. 2. p. 87. edit. 1767.
I know not what discoveries this conclusion may lead
others to make concerning our author s reason and capa
city : but I have some ground to think, that in him it has
not wrought any extraordinary self-abasement ; otherwise
he would not have asserted, with so much confidence,
what he acknowledges to be a most violent paradox, and
what is indeed contrary to the experience and conviction
of every person of common sense. See Treatise of Human
Nature, vol. l./>. 291, 299.
* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. i. p. 298.
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 2OI
years ago. By seeing them constantly together for
several months, I find, that the idea of the one deter
mines my mind to form the idea of the other, and the
impression of the one to form a more lively idea of
the other. So that, according to our author s defini
tion, the one house is the cause, and the other the
effect ! Again, day and night have always been con
tiguous and successive ; the imagination naturally
runs from the idea or impression of the one to the
idea of the other : consequently, according to the same
profound theory and definition, either day is the cause
of night, or night the cause of day, just as we con
sider the one or the other to have been originallj
prior in time : that is, in other words, light is either
the cause or the effect of darkness ; and its being the
one or the other depends entirely on my imagination !
Let those admire this discovery who understand it.
Causation * implies more than priority and con
tiguity of the cause to the effect. This relation
cannot be conceived at all, without a supposition of
power or energy in the cause f. Let the reader re
collect two things that stand related as causs and ef
fect ; let him contemplate them with a view to this
relation ; then let him conceive the cause divested
of all power ; and he must at the same instant con
ceive, that it is a cause no longer : for a cause di
vested of power, is divested of that by which it is a
cause. If a man, after examining his notions of
causation in this manner, is conscious that he has an
idea of power, then I say he has that idea. If all
men, in all ages, have used the word power, or
something synonymous to it, and if all men know
R 2
* Causation in Mr HUME S style, denotes the relation of
cause and effect. In English authors, the word rarely oc
curs, and never, I think, in this sense. It properly signi
fies, The act or power of causing.
f Non sic causa intelligi debet, ut quod cuique antece-
at id ei causa sit, sed quod cuique efficicnter antecedat.
Cicero De Fato> cap. 15.
102 AN ESSAY NO TRUTH. PART II.
what they mean when they speak of power, I main
tain, that all men have a notion, conception, or idea
of power, in whatever way they came by it : and I
also maintain, that no true philosopher ever denied
the existence or reality of any thing, merely because
he could not give an account of its origin, or because
the opinion commonly received concerning its origin
<iid not happen to quadrate with his system.
When, therefore, Mr HUME says, that the efficacy
or energy of causes is not placed in the causes them
selves, he says neither less nor more than this, that
what is essential to a cause is not in a cause ; of, in
other words, that a cause is not a cause. Are
there any persons who, upon the authority of this
theorist, have rashly adopted atheistical principles ?
I know there are such. Ye blinded followers of a
blind guide, ye dupes of unmeaning words and in
comprehensible arguments, behold on what a cham
pion ye have placed your confidence ! All the com
fort I can give you is, that/if it be possible for the
same thing at the same time to be and not to be, you
may possibly be in the right.
It follows from what has been said, that we can
not admit this theory of power and causation, with
out admitting, at the same time, the grossest and
most impious absurdities. Is this a sufficient con
futation of it ? I think it is. If any person think
otherwise, I take a shorter method, and utterly de
ny all the premises from which this strange conclu
sion is supposed to result. I deny the doctrine of
impressions and ideas, as the author has explained
it ; nay, I have already affirmed, and proved, it to be
not only false, but unintelligible. And I maintain,
that though it could be shown, that all simple ideas
are derived from impressions, or intimations of sense,
it is true, notwithstanding, that all men have an idea
of power. Thev ger it by experience, that is, by
mtimatixms of sense, both external and internal.
Their mind acting upon their body gives them this
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 203
notion or idea ; their body acting on other bodies,
and acted on by other bodies, gives them the same
idea ; which is also suggested by all the effects and
changes they see produced in the universe. So tho
roughly are we acquainted with it, that we can in ca
ses innumerable, determine, with the utmost accura
cy and certainty, . the degree of power necessary to
produce a given effect.
I repeat therefore, notwithstanding all our author
has said, or can say, to the contrary, that some things
are in our power, and others are not ; and that we
perfectly understand our own meaning when we say
so. That the reader may not lose any chain in our
reasoning, he will please to look back to the second
and third paragraphs of this section. -
3. By attending to my own internal feelings, and
to the evidence given by other men of theirs, I am
sensible, that I .deserve reward or punishment for
those actions only which are in my own power. I
am no more accountable for the evil which I can
neither prevent nor remedy, than for the destruction
of Troy, or the plagues of Egypt ; and for the good
which happens by my means, but against my will,
I no more deserve reward or praise, than if I were
a piece of inanimate matter.
This is the doctrine of common sense ; and this
doctrine has in all ages been supported by some of
the most powerful principles of our nature ; by
principles which, in the common affairs of life, no
man dares suppose to be equivocal or fallacious. A
man may as well tell me that I am blind, or deaf, or
that. I feel no heat when I approach the fire, as that
I have not a natural sentiment disposing me to blame
intentional injury, and to praise intentional benefi
cence ; and which makes me feel and be conscious,
that the evil I am compelled to do is- not criminal,
and that the good I perform against my will is not
meritorious. That other men are- conscious of the
ame sentiment, I know with as much certainty as J
R 3
204 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
can know any thing of what passes in the mind of
other men ; for I have daily and hourly opportuni
ties of making observations in regard to this very
point. The greatest part of conversion turns upon
the morality of human actions ; and I never yet
heard any person seriously blamed or applauded, by
a reasonable creature, for an action in the perfor
mance of which he was not considered as a free a-
gent*. The most rigid Predestinarians suppose
freedom of will to be in one way or other consistent
with eternal an d unconditional decrees : if they can
not explain in what way, they call it a mystery ;
It surpasses their understanding ; but it must be so>
for otherwise the morality of actions is altogether
inconceivable f. Do the interests of science, or of
* Si omnia fato fiunt, omnia fiunt causa antecedente- 5
ct, si appetitus, ilia etiam quse appetitum sequuntur : ergo-,
ctiam assensiones. At si causa appetitus non est sita in
nobis, ne ipse qnidem appetitus est in nostra protestate;
Quod si ita est, ne ilia quidem quse appetitu efficiuntur
sunt sita in nobis. Non sunt igitur, neque assensiones
neque actiones, in nostra potestate : ex quo efficitur, ut nee
laudationes justce sint, nee vituperationes , nee honores, nee suf<r
plicia. Quod cum vitiosum sit, probabiliter concludi
putant, non omnia fato fieri quaecumque fiant,
Cicero^ De Fafo, cap. 17.
f The reader, I hope, does not think me such a novice
in reasoning, as to urge the judgment of the council of
Trent in behalf of any doctrine, philosophical or religious*
Yet every fact in logic and morals is worth our notice,
If we would establish those sciences on their only firm
foundation, the universal consent and practice of man
kind: It deserves^ therefore, to be remarked, that, at the
Reformation, this consciousness-of free will was acknowledged
both by the Lutherans, and by the church of Rome, to be
a principle of common sense, which was to be* ascertained
net by reasoning, but by experimental proof. So says
x most judicious and elegant historian, whose words are. re-
CHAP. It. AN ESSAY ON TRUTtf. 2C"5
virtue, suffer by this representation of the matter ?
I think not. But some philosophers, not satisfied
with this view of it, are for bringing the sentiment
of moral liberty to the test of reason. They want
to prove by argument, either that I have, or that I
have not, such a feeling : or, if I shall be found to
have it, they want to know whether it be fallacious
or not. In other words, they want to prove or to dis
prove, what I know by instinct to be unquestionably
certain ; or they want to inquire, whether it be rea
sonable for me to act and think according to a prin
ciple, which, by the law of my nature, I cannot con
tradict, either in though or action. Would not the
same spirit of inquiry lead a geometrician to attempt a
proof or confutation of his axioms ; a natural philoso
pher todoubt whether things be what his senses repre
sent them; an ordinary man toargue concerning the pro
priety of perceiving colours by the eyes, and odours
by the nostrils ? Would not the same spirit of doubt
and disputation, applied to more familiar instances,
transform a philosopher into a madman, and a per
son of plain sense into an idiot?
markably apposite to the present subject, and to trie man
ner in which we treat it. Speaking of some articles said
to be maintained by the Lutherans, in opposition to free
will, the historian informs us, that, in the judgment of
many of that celebrated council, the opinion implied in
these articles, " E empia, e biasfema contra Dio. Ch
" era una pazzia contra il senso comune, esperimentando og-
" ni huomo la propria liberta, eke non merita contestation,
46 ma, comme Anstotele dice, o castigo, o prova esperimen-
"tale. Che, i medesimi discepoli di Luthero s erano ac-
" corti della piazzia j e, moderando 1 assordita, dissero poi,
" esservi liberta nell huomo in quello, che tocca le attioni
" esterne polkiche ed economiche, e quanto ad ogni gius-
" titia civile ^ le quali e sciocco chi non conosce vem r dal
1 conseglio ed ellettione ; restringendosi a negar la liberta
* quanta alia sola giustitia divina*" Istoria del Cosci/s
Trid. di P. Sarpi. lib, 2.
206 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
But let us not be too rigid. If a philosopher must
needs have his rattles and playthings, let him have
them : only, for his own sake, and for the sake of the
neighbours, I would advise, that edge-tools, and o-
ther dangerous instrumentsof amusement, bekeptout
of his reach. If a Cartesian will not, on any account, ,
believe his own existence, except I grant him his
Cogito, ergo sum, ,far be it from me to deprive the
poor man of that consolation. The reasoning indeed
is bad, but the principle is good ; and a gocd principle
is so good a thing, that rather than oblige a man to
renounce it, I would dispense with the strict obser
vance of a logical precept. . If a star-gazer cannot
see the inhabitants of the moon with one perspective,
let him tie a score of them together, with all my
heart. If a virtuoso is inclined to look at the sun
through a microscope, . and at a rotten cheese
through a telescope, to apply ear-trumpets to his
eyes, and equip his two ears with as many pairs of
spectacles, he has my full permission j .and much
good may it do him. These amusements are idle,
but they are innocent. The Cartesian, if the truth
were known, would be found neither the better nor
the worse for his enthymeme* The star-gazer has
not atchieved a single glimpse -of his lunar friends,
but sees more confusedly than before : however, he
may console himself with this reflection, that one
may pa c s through life with the character of a very
honest and tolerably happy man, though he should
never have it in his power to extend the sphere of
his acquaintance beyond this sublunary globe. The
virtuoso takes a wrong, and indeed a very preposter
ous method, for improving his sight and hearing ;
but if he is careful to confine these frolics to his pri
vate apartment, and never boast m public of his au
ditory, or optical apparatus, 1 -? may live comfortably
and respectably enough, though he should never see
the spots in the sun, nor the bristles on a mite s
back.
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 207
I would however, earnestly exhort my friend the
metaphysician, to believe himself a free agent upon
the bare authority of his feelings, and not to imagine
that Nature is such a bungler in her trade, as first to
intend to impose upon him, and then inadvertently
give him sagacity to see through the imposture. In
deed, if it were a matter of indifference, whether we
believe our moral feelings or disbelieve them, I
should not object to the use of a little unbelief now
and then, by way of experiment or cordial, provided
it were a thing that a reasonable man could take any
pleasure in. But I am convinced, that habitual
dram-drinking is not more pernicious to our- animal
nature, then habitual scepticism to our rational.
And when once this scepticism comes to affect our
moral sentiments, or active principles, ail is over
with us : we are in the condition of a man intoxicat
ed ; fit only for raving, dozing, and doing mischief.
But, alas ! the metaphysician is too headstrong to
follow my advice. It would be a fine thing, indeed,
says he, if gentlemen were to yield to the dictates of
nature. Is there a single dictate of nature to which
people of fashion now-a-days pay any regard ? No,
no ; the world is grown wiser. As to this sentiment
of moral liberty, I very much question its tide to be
ranked with the dictates of nature. It seems to be a
piece of vile sophistication, a paltry prejudice, hatch
ed by the nurse, and fostered by the priest. I am
determined to take it roundly to task, and examine
its pretensions with the eye of a philosopher and
freethinker. Very well, Sir, you may take your
own way ; it requires no skill in magic to be able to
foretell the consequence. A traveller no sooner quits
the right road, on supposition of its being wrong,
than he gets into one that is really so, If you set
out in your inquiry, with suspecting the principles
of common sense to be erroneous, you have little
chance of falling in with; any other principles, that
are not erroneous*
208 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
The result of the metaphysical inquiry is as fol
lows : " Every human action must proceed from
" some motive as its cause. The motive or cause
" must be sufficient to produce the action or effect ;
" otherwise it is no motive : and, if sufficient to pro-
" duce it, must necessarily produce it ; for every ef-
** feet proceeds necessarily from its causej as heat
"necessarily proceeds from fire. Now, the immediate
" causes of action are volitions, or energies of the will:
" these arise necessarily from passions or appetites,
* which proceed necessarily from judgments or o-
(t pinions j which are the necessary effect of external
" things, or of ideas, operating, according to the ne-
" cessary laws of nature, upon our senses, intellect,
** or fancy : and these ideas, or things, present them-
" selves to our powers of perception, as necessarily
" as light presents itself when we turn our open eyes
" to the sun. In a word, every human action is the
" effect of a series of causes, each of which does ne-
" cessarily produce its own proper effect : so that if
" the first operate, all the rest must follow. It is
" confessed, that an action may proceed immediately
" from volition, and may therefore properly be call-
" ed voluntary : but theprimum mobile or first cause,
" even of a voluntary action, is something as inde-
" pendent on our will, as the production of the great*
" grandfather is independent on the grandson. Be-
" tween physical and moral necessity there is no dif-
* ference ; the phenomena of the moral world being
" no less necessary than those of the material. And,
u to conclude, if we are conscious of a feeling or sen-
" timent of moral liberty, it must be 3 deceitful one ;
* for no past action of our lives could have been pre-
t( vented, and no future action can possibly be con-
" tingent. Therefore man is not a free, but a ne-
" cessary agent."
This is just such a conclusion as I should have
expected ; for thus it always has been, and will be,
when the dictates of common sense are questioned
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 209
and disputed. The existence of body, the existence
of the soul, the reality of our idea of power, the dif
ference between moral and intellectual virtue, the
certainty of the inference from an effect to the cause,,
and many otfcer such truths, dictates of common sense,
have been called in question, and argued upon. And
what is the result ? Why truly it has been found,
that there is no body, that there is.no soul, that we
have no idea of power, that moral and intellectual
virtue are not different, and that a cause is not ne
cessary to the production of that which hath a be
ginning. And now the liberty of human actions is
questioned and debated, what could we expect, but
that it would share the same fate ! But passing this
for the present *, which, hoWever, seems to merit
attention, we shall here only enquire, whether this
doctrine of necessity be not in some important points
extremely similar to that of the non-existence of
matter.
i. Of this doctrine we observe, in the first place,
that, if any regard is to be had to the meaning of
words, and if human actions may reasonably be taken
for the signs of human sentiments, all mankind have,
in all ages, been of a different opinion. The number
of professed philosophers who have maintained that
all things happen through unavoidable necessity, is
but small ; nor are we to imagine that all the ancient
Fatalists were of this number. The Stoics were Fa-
* Some readers may possibly, on this occasion, call to
mind a saying of an old Greek author, who, though now
obsolete, was in his day, and for several ages after, accoun
ted a man of considerable penetration. I neither men
tion his name, nor translate his words, for fear of offend
ing (pardon a fond author s vanity) my polite readers,
AN \QN THN AFAITHN TH2 AAH0EIA5 OYK
EAEHANTO AIA TOYTO IIEMYEI AYTOI2 *O
0EOS ENEPFEIAN IIAANH2 EI2 TO III2TEY2AI
AYTOY2 Til TEYAEL
210 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
talists by profession - 9 but they still endeavoured as
well as they could, to reconcile fate with moral free
dom * ; and the first sentence of the Enchiridon of
Epictetus contains a declaration, that " opinion, pur-
" suit, desire, and aversion, and, in one word, what-
" ever are our own actions, are in our own power."
We see in Cicero s fragment De Fato, and in the be
ginning of the sixth book of Aulus Gellius, by what
subterfuges and quibbling distinctions the Stoic
Chrysippus reconciled the seemingly opposite princi
ples of fate and free-will. I am not surprised, that
what he says on this subject is unsatisfactory : for
many Christians have puzzled themselves to no pur
pose in the same argument. But though the manner
in which the divine ptescience is exerted be mysteri
ous and inexplicable, it does not follow, that the
freedom of our will is equally so. Of this we may
be, and we are, competent judges. It is sufficiently
intimated to every man by his own experience ; and
every man is satisfied with this intimation, and by
his conduct declares, that he trusts to it as certain
and authentic. Nothing can be a clearer proof, that
the sentiment of moral liberty is one of the most
powerful in human nature, than its having been so
long able to maintain its ground, and often in oppo
sition to other popular opinions apparently repugnant.
The notion of fate has prevailed much in the world,
and yet could never subvert this sentiment even in
the vulgar If it be asked, where the vulgar o-
pinions of ancient times are to be found ? I answer,
* " By Fate the Stoics seem to have understood a series
" of events appointed by the immutable counsels of God ;
** or, that law of his providence by which he governs the
" world. It is evident by their writings, that they meant
" it in no sense which interferes with the liberty of human
u actions."
See Mrs Carter s admirable Introduction to Her very
elegant translation of the works of Epictetus, 17.
p.
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 2,11
that in the writings of the most popular poets we
have a chance to find them more genuine than in sy
stems of philosophy -- To advance paradoxes, and
consequently to disguise facts, is often the most ef
fectual recommendation of a philosopher : but a poet
must conform himself to the general principles and
manners of mankind ; otherwise he can never become
a general favourite,
Now the system of Homer and Virgil concerning
fate and free-will, is perfectly explicit. " Homer
" assigns three causes," I quote the word^o/ Pope,
" of all the good and evil that happens in this world,
" which he takes a particular care to distinguish!
" First, the will of God, superior to all. Secondly,
" Destiny or fate, meaning the laws and order of na-
4 * ture, affecting the constitutions of men, and dispos-
<* ing them to good or evil, prosperity or misfortune ;
** which the Supreme Being, if it be his pleasure,
** may over-rule, (as Jupiter is inclined to do in the
c * case of Sarpedon *) ; but which he generally suf-
" fers to take effect. Thirdly, Our own free will,
" which either by prudence overcomes those natural
" influences and passions, or by folly suffers us to fall
" under them f." In regard to some of the decrees
of fate, Homer informs us, that they were conditional,,
or such as could not take effect, except certain ac
tions were performed by men. Thus Achilles had
it in his power to continue at Troy, or to return home
before the end of the war. If he chose to stay, iris life
would be short and glorious ; if to return, he was to
enjoy peace and leisure to a good old age . He pre
fers the former, though he well knew what was to
* Iliad, xvi. 433.
f Iliad, i. 5. xix. 90. Odyss. i. 7. 39. See Pope s notes
on hese a sages.
Ilisd, IK. 315.
212 ESSAY ON TRUTH. TART II.
follow : and I know not whether there be any other
circumstance in the character of this hero, except
his love to his friend and to his father, which so
powerfully recommends him to our regard. This
gloomy resolution invests him with a mournful digni
ty, the effects of which a reader of sensibility often
feels at his heart, in a sentiment made up of admira
tion, pity, and horror. But this by the by. Ac
cording to Virgil, the completion, even of the abso
lute decrees of fate, may be retarded by the agency
of beings inferior to Jupiter * : a certain term is
fixed
My fate% long since by Thetis were disclos d
And each alternate, life or fame proposed.
Here if I stay before the Trojan town,
Short is my date, but deathless my renown)
If I return, I quit immortal praise
For years on years, and long extended days.- Pope*
On voit (says M. Dacier, in Her note on this passage)
partout dans Homere des marques qu il a voit connu cette
double destinee des hommeSj, si necessaire pour accorder le
libre arbitre avec la predestination. En voicy un tesmoig-
nage bien formel et bicn expres. II y a ducx chemins
pour tons les hommes : s ils prennent celuy-la, il leur arri-
vera telle chose - ? s ils preimcrit celui-cy, leur sort sera
different.
Sophocles, in like manner, represents the decree oi
Destiny concerning Ajax, as conditional. The anger oi
Minerva against that hero was to last only one day : if his
friends kept him within doors during that space, all would
be well - ? if they suffered him to go abroad unattended,
his death was inevitable. . Ajax Mastig. 772.794.818,
,/ pw U W fttvu (says the scholiast), (rwSwe roc/ \i le ^aT?,
/ TOVTO fe TO lirlov r pcipiw o>i?^o? coc xaj
^c;, A/^8ai/ac x.x^ac fep^tK ^avaro to rexcc-ae.
Sophocles, cpud H. Stcfih: i5S8. /. 48,
Non dabitur regnis (esto) piohibere Latinis,
Atque immota tnanet fatis Lavinia corijux 5
At trahere, atque moras tantis licet addere rebus.
8 JEneid, vii. 313,
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 213
fixed to every man, beyond which his life cannot last ;
but before this period arrives, he may die, by acci
dental misfortunej or deserved punishment* : to vir
tue and vice necessity reaches not at allf .
la all the histories 1 have read of ancient or mo
dern, savage or civilized nations, I find the conduct
of mankind has ever been such as I should expect
from creatures possessed of moral freedom, and con
scious of it. Several forms of false religion, and
some erroneous commentaries on the true, have im
posed tenets inconsistent with this freedom ; but men
have still acted, notwithstanding, as if they believed
themselves to be free. CPreeds, expressed in general
terms, may easily be imposed on the ignorant, and
the selfish ; by the former they are misunderstood,
by the latter disregarded : but to overpower a na
tural instinct is a difficult task ; and a doctrine which
is easily swallowed when proposed in general terms,
may prove wholly disgustful when applied to a par
ticular case.
* Nam quia nee fato, merita nee rnorte peribat,
Sed misera ante diem, subitoque accensa furore,
Nondum ille Havum Proserpina vcrtice crinem
Abstulerat. JLneid. iv. 69o>
t Stat sua caique dies ; breve et irreparabile tempus
Omnibus est vitct j sed faraam extendere factis,
Hoc virtutis opus. JLneid. x. 467,
I agree with Severius (not. in TEneid. x.J that the phi
losophical maxims to be found in poets are not always con
sistent. The reason is plain : Poets imitate the sentiments
of people of different characters, placed in different circum
stances, and actuated by different passions j and nobody
expects, that the language or thoughts, suitable to a cer
tain character, placed in certaif? circumstances, and ac
tuated by certain passions, should be consistent with tliose
of a different character whose circumstances and passions
are different. But I cannot agree with tH at annotator, in
supposing the passage quoted from the fourth book, incon-
314 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 1 ART II.
" The belief of a destiny," says Mr Macaulay,
in his history of St Kilda *, ".is one of the strong.
" est articles of this people s creed ; and it will pos-
" sibly be found upon examination, that the common
** people, in all ages, and in most countries, give into
" the same notion. At St Kilda, fate and providence
" are much the same thing. After having explained
" t+jess terms, 1 asked some of the people there,
* Whether it was in their power to do good and
" evil ? The answer made by those who were unac-
** quainted with y the systematical doctrines of divi-
" nity was, That the question was a very childish
" one ; as every man alive must be conscious, that
" he himself is a free agent." If it be true, as I be
lieve it is, that the common "people in most countries
are inclined to acknowledge a .destiny or fate ; and if
.it be also true that they are ; conscious of their own
free agency notwithstanding ; this alone would con
vince me, though I had never consulted my own ex-
perience, that the sentiment of moral liberty is one
of the. strongest of human nature. For how many
of their vices might they not excuse, if they could
persuade themselves, or others, that these proceed
Distent with what is quoted from the 10th j and that the
former is according to the Epicurean, and the latter ac
cording to the Stoical, philosophy. In the latter passage,
it is said, that a certain day or time is appointed by fate
for the utmost limit of every man s life : in the former, the
very same thing is implied ; only it is said farther, that
Dido died before her time j and there is nothing in the
10th bock that insinuates the impossibility of this. The
sentiments contained in these three quotations are confer-,
mable to Homer s theology, and to one another j and it
deserves our notice, that the first comes from the mouth
oF Juno, the second from the poet or his muse, and the
third from Jupiter himself j whence I infer, that they were
agreeable to the poet s creed, or at least to the popular
reed of his age*
* P. 243 .
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 215
from causes as independent on their will, as those
from which storms, earthquakes, and eclipses, arise
and the temperature of soils and seasons, and the
sound and unsound constitutions of the human body !
Such a persuasion, however, we find not that they
have at any time entertained or attempted ; from
which I think there is good reason to conclude, that
it is not in their power.
There is no principle in man, religion excepted,
that has produced so great revolutions, and makes
such a figure in the history of the world, as the love
of political liberty : of which indeed all men do t not
form the same notion : some placing it in the power
of doing what they please, others in the power of
doing what is lawful ; some in being governed by
laws of their own making, and others in being go
verned by equitable laws, and tried by equitable
judges ; but of which it is universally agreed, that
it leaves in our power many of our most important
actions. And yet, say Mr Hf ME and the Fatalists.,
all things happen through irresistable necessity, and
there is not in the human mind any idea of any power.
Strange ! that so many, especially among the best,
the bravest, and the wisest of men, should have been
so passionately enamoured of an inconceivable non
entity, as to abandon for its sake, their ease, their
health, their fortunes, and their lives ! At this rate
we. are wonderfully mistaken, when we speak of
Don Quixote as a madman, and of Leonidas, rutus,
Wallace, Hampden,- Paoli, as wise, and good, and
great ! The case it seems is just the reverse ; these
heroes deserve no other name than that of raving bed
lamites ; and the illustrious knight of La Mancha, to
whom the object of his valour was at least a concei e u-
alle pljantom, was a person of excellent understand
ing and most perfect knowledge of the world !
Do not all mankind distinguish between mere
harm and injury ? Is there one rational being unac
quainted with this distinction ? If a roan were to act
2*6 AN E:SAY ON TROTH. PART W. .
as if he did not comprehend it, would not the world
pronounce him a fool ? And jet this distinction is
perfectly incomprehensible, except we suppose some
beings to act necessarily, and others from free choice.
A man gives me a blow, and instantly I feel resent
ment ; but a bystander informs me, that the man is
afflicted with the epilepsy, which deprives him of the
power of managing his limbs ; that the blow was not
only without design, but contrary to his intention, and
that he could not possibly have prevented it. My
resentment is gone, though I still feel pain from the
blow. Can there h any mistake in this experience ?
Can I think that I feel resentment, when in reality
I do not feel it ? that I feel no resentment, when I
am conscious of the contrary ? And if 1 feel re
sentment in the one case, and not in the other, it is
certain there seems to me to be some dissimilitude
between them. But it is only in respect of the in
tention of him who gave the blow that there can
be arny dissimilitude 1 ; for all that i learn from the
information by which my resentment was extinguish
ed is, that what I supposed to proceed from an evil
intention, O did really proceed from no evil intention,
but from the necessary effect of a material cause, in
which the will had no concern. What shall we say
then? that the distinction between injury and mere
harm, acknowledged by all mankind, does imply,
that all mankind suppose the actions of moral beings
to be ree * or shall we say, that resentment, though
it arises uniformly in all men on certain occasions,
doesyet proceed from no cause ; the actions, which
do give rise to it, being in every respect the same
with those, which do not give rise to it ?
Further, all men expect, with full assurance, that
fire will burn to-morrow ; but all men do not with
full assurance expect, that a thief will steal to-mor
row, or a miser refuse jn alms to a beggar, or a de-
buuchee commit an act of intemperance, even though
opportunities offer. If I had found on blowing up
CHAP. If. AST ESSAY Otf TRUTH. 2 7
my fire this morning, that the flame was cold, an d
converted water into ice, I should have been much
more astonished than if I had detected a man reputed
honest in the commission of an act of theft. The
former I would call a prodigy, a contradiction to the
known laws of natnre : of the latter I shonid say,
that I am sorry for it, and could never have expected
it ; but I should not suppose any prodigy in the case.
All general rules, that regard the influence of hurmtii
characters on human actions, admit of exceptions 5
but the general laws of matter admit of none. Ice
was cold, and fire hot, ever since the creation ; hst
ice, and cold fire, are, according to the 1 present con
stitution of the world, impossible : but that a man
should steal to-day, who never stole before, is no im
possibility at all. The .coldness of the flame I should
doubtless think owing to some cause, and the dis
honesty o-f the man to some strange revolution in his
sentiments and principles ; but I never could bring
myself to think the man as passive, in regard to
this revolution, as the fire must be supposed to be
. in regard to the cause by which its nature is changed.
The man has done what he ought not to have done,
.what he might have prevented, and what he deserves
punishment for not preventing ; this is the lan
guage of all rational beings j but the fire is wholly
unconscious and inert. Who will say that there is
the same necessity in both cases !
Fatalists are fond of inferring moral necessity
from physical, in the way of analogy. But some of
their arguments on this topic are most ridiculously
absurd. " There is," says Voltaire s Ignorant
Philosopher, " nothing without a cause. An effect
" without a cause are words without meaning. Ev-
" ery time I have a will,, this can only be in conse-
"quence of my judgment good or bad; this judgment is
"necessary; therefore sois my will " All this hath
been said by others : but what follows is, I believe,
peculiar to this Ignorant Phifosopler. " In effect^ 3
2l8 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART 21.
continues he, " it would l?e very singular, that all
" nature, all the planets, should obey eternal laws,
** and that there should be a little animal, five feet
** high, who, in contempt of these, laws, could act as
* he pleased, solely according to his caprice." Sin
gular ! aye singular indeed. So very singular, that
yours, Sir, if I mistake not, is the first human brain
that ever conceived such a notion. If man be free,
nobody ever dreamed that he made himself so in
contempt of the laws of nature ; it is in consequence
of a law of nature that he is a free agent. But
passing this, let us attend to the reasoning.
The planets are not free agents ; therefore it-
would be very singular, that man should be one.
Not a whit more singular, than that this same ani
mal of five feet should perceive, and think, and read,
and write and speak ; which no astronomer of my
acquaintance has ever supposed to belong jto the pia-
ne^s, notwithstanding their brilliant appearance, and
stupendous magnitude*. We do too much honour
* Mr Voltaire has often laboured, with more zeal than
success, to prove, amongst other strange doctrines, that
Shakespeare and Milton were no great poets. What if 1
should here help him to an argument as decisive on that
point as any he has yet invented, and framed exactly ac
cording to the rules of his own logic, as exemplified in the
passage now before us ? " The EngL sh say, that Shake -
" speare and Milton were great poets. Now it is well
" known, that neither Plinliniinon in Wales, nor Mealfour-
" vouny in Scotland, neither Lebanon in Syria, nor Atlas
" in Mauritanio, ever wrote one good verse in their days ;
" and yet each of these mountains exceeds in corporeal
" magnitude ten thousand Miltons and as many Shake-
** speares. But it would be very singular, that masses of
" so great distinction should never have been able to put
" pen to paper with any success, and yet that no fewer
" than two pieces of English flesh and blood, scarce six
" feet long, should in contempt of nature and all her la\vs,
" have penned poems "that are entitled to general admira-
" tion !
CHAP. If. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 219
to such reasoning, when we reply to it in the bold
but sublime words of a great genius :
Know st thou th* importance of a soul immortal ?
Behold this midnight glory, worlds on worlds ?
Amazing pomp ! redouble this amaze ;
Ten thousand add ; and twice ten thousand more ;
Then weigh the whole ; ONE SOUL out weights them
And calls, th* astonishing magnificence [all,
Of unintelligent creation poor. Complaint , Night 7.
Mr HUME, in an essay on this subject, maintains,
that the appearances in the moral and material world
are equally uniform, and equally necessary ; nay, and
acknowledged to be so, both by philosophers and by
the vulgar. In proof of this, he prudently confines
himself to general topics, on which he declaims with
some plausibility. Had he descended to particular
instances, as we have clone, the fallacy of his reason
ing would have appeared at once. Human nature
has been nearly the same in all ages. True. For
all men possess nearly the same faculties, which are
employed about nearly the same objects, and destin
ed to operate within the same narrow sphere. And
if a man have power to chuse one of two things, to
act or not to act, he has all the liberty we contend
for. How is it possible, then, that human nature,
taken in the gross, should not be found nearly the
same in all ages ! But if we come to particulars, we
shall not perhaps find two human minds exactly a-
like. In two of the most congenial characters on
earth the same causes will not produce the same
effects ; nay, the same causes- will not always pro
duce the same effects even in the same character.
Some Fatalists deny, that our internal feelings are
in favour of moral liberty. " It is true," says a
worthy and ingenuous, tho fanciful, author, " that
" a man by internal feeling may prove his own free
" will, if by free will be meant the power of doing
" what a man wills, or desires ; or of resisting- the
4< motives of sensuality, ambition^ &.c. that is free
220 A2f ESSAT ON TRUTH. PART II.
" will in the popular and practical sense. Every
" person may eaviy recollect instances, where he has
" done these several things. But these are intirely
" foreign to the present question. To prove that
" a man has free-will in the sense opposite to me-
" chanisrn, he ought to feel, that he can do different
** things wJiile the motives remain precisely the same,
" And here I apprehend the internal feelings are in-
" tirely against free-will, where the motives arc of
" a sufficient magnitude to be evident : where they
* are not, nothing can be proved *."" Questions of
this kind would be more easily solved, if author s
would explain their doctrine by examples. When
this is not done, we cannot always be sure that we
understand their meaning, especially in abstract sub
jects, where language, after all our care, is often e-
quivocal and inadequate. If I rightly understand
this author, and am allowed to examine his principles
by my o%n experience, I must conclude, that he very
much mistakes the fact. Let us take an example.
A man is tempted to the commission of a crime :
his motive to commit, is the love of money, or the
gratification of appetite : his motive to abstain, is a
regard to duty, or to reputation. Suppose him to
.weigh these motives in his mind, for an hour, a day,
or a week ; and suppose, that during this space, no
additional consideration occurs to him on either side:
which, I think, may be supposed, because I know it
is possible, and 1 believe often happens. While his
mind is in this state, the motives remain precisely the
same : and yet it is to me inconceivable, that he should
at any time, during this space, feel himself under a
necessity of committing, or under a necessity of not
committing the crime. He is indeed under a neces
sity either to do, or not to do : but e^ery man, in
such a case, feels that he has it in his power to chuse
the one or the other. At least, in all my experience
* Hartley s Observations on man, vol. 1. p. 507,
CHAP. II. Att ESSAY ON TRUTH. 22T
I have never been conscious, nor had any reason to
believe, that other men were conscious, of any such
necessity as the author here speaks of.
Again : Suppose two men in the circumstances
above-mentioned, to yield to the temptation, and to
be differently affected by a review of their conduct ;
the one repining at fortune, or fate, or providence,
for having placed him in too tempting a situation,
and solicited him by motives too powerful to be re
sisted ; the other blaming and upbraiding himself
for yielding to the bad motive, and resisting the
good: I would ask, . hich of these two kinds of
remorse or regret is the most rational ? 7"he first,
according to the doctrine of the Fatalists ; the last,
according to the universal opinion of mankind. No
divine, no moralist, no man of sense, ever supposes
true penitence to begin, till the criminal become con
scious, that he has done, or neglected, something
which he ought not to have done or neglected : a
sentiment which would be not only absurd, but im
possible, if all criminals and guilty persons believed,
from internal feeling, that what is done could not
have been preren ed. Whenever you cas satisfy a
man of this, he may continue to bewail himself or
repine at fortune ; but his repentance is at an end.
It is always a part, and too often the whole, of the
language of remorse : " I wish the deed had never
4 * been done: wretch that I was, not to resist the tefnp-
" tation !" Docs this imply, that the penitent sup
poses himself to have been under a necessity of com
mitting the action, and that his conduct could not
possibly have been different from what it is ? To me
it seems to imply just the contrary. And am not I
a competent judge of this matter ? Have not I been
in these circumstances ? Has not this been often the
language of my soul ? And will any man pretend to
say, that I do not know my own thoughts, or that
he knows them better than I ? - All men, inde d f
have but too frequent esiperience of at least this part
222 AK ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II,
of repentance ; then why multiply words, when by
facts it is so easy to determine the controversy ?
Other Fatalists acknowledge, that the free agency
of man is universally felt and believed : That tho
man in truth is a necessary agent, having all his ac
tions determined by fixed and immutable laws ; yet,
this being concealed from him, he acts with the con
viction of being a free agent *. Concealed from
him ! Who conceals it ? Does the author of nature
conceal it, and do these writers discover it ! What
deference is not due to the judgment of a metaphy
sician, whose sagacity is so irresistably (I^liad al
most said omnipotently) penetrating ! But, gentle
men, as ye are powerful, ye should have been mer
ciful. It was not kind to rob poor mortals of this
crumb of comfort which had been provided for them
in tiieir ignorance ; nor generous to publish so open
ly the secrets of Heaven, and thus baffle the designs
of Providence by a few strokes of your pen ! In
truth, rner.aphysic is a perplexing affair to the pas
sions, as well as to the judgment. Some times it is
so absurd^ that not to be merry is impossible ; and
sometimes so impious, that not to be angry were un
pardonable : but often it partakes so much of both
Dualities, that one knows not with what temper of
mind to consider it :
o
" To laugh, were want of goodness, and of grace j
* " And to be grave, exceeds all power of face."
But why insist so long on the universal acknow
ledgment of man s free agency ? To me it is as evi
dent, that all men believe themselves free, as that
* In the former edition of this Essay, a particular book
was here specified and quoted. But I have lately heard,
that in a second, edition of that book, which, however, I
have not yet seen, the author has made sorce alterations,
by which he gets clear of the absurdity exposed in thf?
passage.
CILvI*. II. AK ESSAY ON TRUTH. 223
all men think. I cannot see the heart ; I judge of
the sentiments of others from their outward beha
viour ; from the highest to the lowest, as far as
history and experience can carry me, I find the con
duct of human beings similar in this respect to my
own : and of my own free agency I have never yet
been able to entertain the least doubt. " Here then
* we have an instance of a doctrine advanced by
" some philosophers, in direct contradiction to the
* general belief of all men in all ages." This is a
repetition of the first remark formerly made oa the
non-existence of matter.
2. The second was to this purpose : " The rea-
" soning by which this doctrine is supported, tho*
* long accounted unanswerable, did never produce a
** serious and steady conviction ; common sense still
" declared it to be false ; we were sorry to find the
* powers of human reason so limited as not to af-
" ford a logical confutation of it ; we were convin-
** ced it merited confutation, and nattered ourselves
" that one time or other it would be confuted."
I shall here take it for granted, that the scheme of
necessity has not as yet been fully confuted ; and on
this supposition (which the Fatalists can hardly fail
to acknowledge a fair one) I would ask, whether die
remark just now quoted be applicable to the reason
ings urged in behalf of that scheme ? My experience
tells me, it is. After giving the advocates for ne
cessity a fair hearing, my belief is exactly the same
as before. I am puzzled perhaps, but not convin
ced, no not in the least degree. In reading some
late essays on this subject, I find many things allow
ed to pass without scruple, which I cannot admit :
and when I have got to the end, and ask myself,
whether I am a free or a necessary agent, nature re
curs upon me so irresistibly, that the investigation I
have just finished seems (as Shakespea e says) " like
" the fierce vexation of a dream," which, while it
lasted, had some resemblance of reality, but now,
T
224 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
when it is gone, appears to have been altogether a
delusion. This is prejudice, you say ; be it so.
Before the confutation of BEKKELEY S system,
would it have been called prejudice not to be convin
ced by his arguments? I know not but it might ;
but I am sure, that of such prejudice no honest man,
nor lover of truth, needs be ashamed. I confess,
that when I enter upon the controversy in question,
I am not wholly indifferent ; I am a little biassed in
favour of common sense, and I cannot help it : yet
if the reasoning were conclusive, I am confident it
would breed in my mind some suspicion, that my
sentiment of moral liberty is ambiguous. As I ex
perience nothing of this kind, my conviction remain
ing the same as before, what must I infer? Surely
1 must infer, and I sin against my own understand
ing if I do not infer, that though the reasoning be
subtle, the doctrine is .absurd.
But what if a man be really convinced by that
reasoning, that he is a necessary agent ? Then I
expect he will think and act according to his
conviction. If he continue to act and think as
he did before, and as I and the rest of the
world do now, he must parden me if I should sus
pect his conviction to be insincere. For let it be ob
served, that the Fatalists are net satisfied with call
ing their doctrine probable ; they affirm, that it is
certain, and rests on evidence not inferior to demon
stration. If, therefore, it convince at all, it must
convince thoroughly. Between rejecting it as utter
ly false, and receiving it as undeniably true, there is
medium to a considerate person. And let it be
observed further, that the changes which the real
belief of fatality must produce in the conduct and
sentiments of men, are not slight and imperceptible ;
but, as will appear after v. avds, important and strik
ing. If you say, that the instincts of ycur nature,
the customs of the world, and the force of human
laws, oblige you to act like free agents, you acknov -
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 225
ledge fatality to be contrary to nature and common
sense ; which is the point I want to prove.
Clay is not more obsequious to the potter, than
words to the skilful disputant. They may be made
to assume almost any form, to enforce almost any
doctrine. So true it is, that much may be said on
either side of most questions, that we have known
dealers in controversy, who were always of the same
mind with the author whom they read last. V/e have
seen theories of morality deduced from pride, from
sympathy, from self-love, from benevolence ; and
all so plausible, as would surprise one who is unac
quainted with the ambiguities of language. Of these
the advocates for simple truth are less careful to a-
vaii themselves, than their paradoxical antagonists.
The arguments of the former, being more obvious,
stand less in need of illustration ; those of the lat
ter require all the embellishments of eloquence and
refinement to recommend them. Robbers seldom go-
abroad without arms ; they examine every corner
and countenance with a penetrating eye, which habi
tual distrust and circumspection have rendered in
tensely sagacious : the honest man walks carelessly
about his business, intending no harm, and suspect
ing none. It cannot be denied, that philosophers
do often, in the use of words, impose on themselves
as well as on others ; an ambiguous word slipping in
by accident will often perplex a whole subject, to
the equal surprise of both parties ; and perhaps, in
a long course of years, the cause of this perplexity
shall not be discovered. This was never more re
markably the case, than in the controversy about
the existence of matter } and this no doubt is one
great hinderance to the utter confutation of the doc
trine of necessity. Fatalists indeed, make a stir, and
seem much in earnest about settling the significa
tion of the words : but * words beget words," as
Bacon well observeth j and it cannot be expected,
T 2
226 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
that they who are interested in supporting a system
will be scrupulously impartial in their definitions.
With a few of these, a theorist commonly begins
his system. This has the appearance of fairness
and perspicuity. We hold it for a maxim, that a
man may use words in any sense he pleases, provid
ed he explain the sense in which he uses them ; and
we think it captious, to find fault with words. We
therefore are easily prevailed on to admit his defini
tions, which are generally plausible, and not appa
rently repugnant to the analogy of language. But
the understanding of the author when he writes, and
that of the student when he reads them, are in very
different circumstances. The former knows his sys
tem already, and adapts his definitions to it : the lat
ter is ignorant of the system, and therefore can have
no notion of the tendency of the definitions. Besides,
every system is in some degree obscure to one who
is but beginning to study it ; and this obscurity
serves to disguise whatever in the preliminary illus
trations is forced or inexplicit. Thus the mind of
the most candid and most attentive reader is prepar
ed for the reception of error, long before he has any
suspicion of the author s real design. And then, the
more he is accustomed to use words in a certain sig
nification, the more he is disposed to think it natur
al ; so that the further he advances in the system,
lie is still more and more reconciled to it. Need we
wonder then at the variety of moral systems? need we
wonder to see a man s judgment so easily, and often so
egregiously, misled, by abstract reasoning ? need we
wonder at the success of any theorist, who has a tolei-
able command of language, and a moderate share of
cunning, provided his system be well-timed, and adap
ted to the manners and principles of his age ? Neither
need we wonder to see the grossest and most detestable
absurdities recommended by singular plausibility of
argument, and such as may for a time impose even
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 227
on the intelligent and segacious ; till at last, when
the author s design becomes manifest, common sense
begins to operate, and men have recourse to their in
stinctive and intuitive sentiments, as the most effec
tual security against the assaults of the logician.
Further, previous to all influence from habit and
education, the intellectual abilities of different men
are verj different in respect of reasoning, as well as
of common sense. Some men, sagacious enough in
perceiving truth, are but ill qualified to reason a-
bout it ; while others, not superior in common sense,
or intuitive sagacity, are much more dextrous in de
vising and confuting arguments. If you propose a
sophism to the latter, you are at once contradicted
and confuted : the former, though they cannot con
fute you, are perhaps equally sensible of your false
doctrine, and unfair reasoning ; they know, that
what you say is not true, though they cannot tell in
what respect it is false. Perhaps all that is wanting
to enable them to confute, as well as contradict, is
only a little practice in speaking and wrangling : but
surely this affects not the truth or falsehood of pro
positions. What is false is as really so to the per
son who perceives its falsity, without being able to
prove it, as to him who both perceives and proves ;
and it is equally false, before I learn logic, and after.
Is it not therefore highly unreasonable to expect
conviction from every antagonist who cannot confute
you, and to ascribe to prejudice what i& owing to-
the irresistible impulse of unerring nature ?
I have conversed with many people of sense on the
subject of this controversy concerning liberty and ne
cessity. To the greater part, the arguments of
Clarke and others, in vindication of liberty, seemed
quite satisfying ; others owned themselves puzzled
with the subtleties of those who took the opposite
side of the question ; some reposed with full assur
ance on that consciousness of liberty -which every,
228 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
man feels in his own breast : in a word, as far as my
experience goes, I have found all the impartial, the
most sagacious, and most virtuous, part of man
kind, enemies to fatality in their hearts ; willing to
consider the arguments for it as rather specious
than solid ; and disposed to receive, with joy and
thankfulness, a thorough vindication of human li
berty, and a logical confutation of the opposite doc
trine.
3. It has been said, That philosophers are an
swerable, not for the consequences, but only for the
truth of their tenets ; and that, if a doctrine be true,
its being attended with disagreeable consequences will
not render it false. We readily acquiesce in this re
mark ; but we imagine it cannot be meant of any
truth but what is certain and incontrovertible, No
genuine truth did ever of itself produce effects in
consistent with real utility *. But many principles
pass for truth, which are far from deserving that
honourable appellation. Some give it to all doc
trines which have been defended with subtlety, and
which, whether seriously believed or not, have never
been logically confuted. But to affirm, that all
mch doctrines are certainly true, would argue
the most contemptible ignorance of human lan
guage, and human nature. It is therefore absurd
to say, that the bad consequences of admitting
such doctrines ought not to be urged as arguments
against them Now, there are many persons in the
world, of most respectable understanding, who would
be extremely averse to acknowledge, that the doc
trine of necessity has ever been demonstrated beyond
all possibility of doubt. I may therefore be per
mitted to consider it as a controvertible tenet, and to
expose the absurdities and dangerous consequences
\vith which the belief of it may, and must be at
tended.
Marc. Anton! n.
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH.
Mr HUME endeavours to raise a prejudice against
this method of refutation. He probably foresaw, that
the tendency of his principles would be urged as an ar
gument against them ; and being somewhat apprehen
sive of the consequences, as well he might, he insinu
ates, that all such reasoning is no better than pe; son^l
invective. " There is no method of reasoning," says
he, " more common, and yet none more biameable,
* than in philosophical debates to endeavour the re-
" filiation of any hypothesis, by a pretence of its
" dangerous consequences to religion and morality.
" When any opinion leads into absurdities, it is cer-
" tainly false ; but it is not certain that an opinion
" is false, because it is of dangerous consequence.
" Such topics therefore ought entirely to be forborne,
" as serving nothing to the discovery of truth, but
" only to make the person of an antagonist odious *."
If your philosophy be such, that its consequences
cannot be unfolded without rendering your person
odious, pray, Mr HUME, who is to blame ? you, who
contrive and publish it ; or I, who criticise it ? There
is a kind of philosophy so salutary in its effects, as
to endear the person of the author to every good
man : why is not yours of this kind ? If it is not, as
you yourself seem to apprehend, do you think, that
I ought to applaud your principles, or suffer them to
pass unexamined, even though I am certain of their
pernicious tendency ? or that, out of respect to your
person, I ought not to put others on their guard a-
gainst them ? Surely you cannot be so blinded by
self-admiration, as to think it the duty of a-y man
to sacrifice the interest of mankind to your interest,
or rather to your reputation as a metaphysical writer.
If you do think so, I must take the liberty to differ
from your judgment in this, as in many other mat
ters.
* Essay on Liberty and Necessity, part 2,
23 AN ESSAY OX TRUTH. PART II.
Nor can 1 agree to what our author says of this
method of reasoning, that it tends nothing to the dis
covery of truth. Does not every thing tend to the
discovery of truth, that disposes men to think for
themselves, and to consider opinions with attention,
before they adopt them ? And have not many well-
meaning persons rashly adopted a plausible opinion
en the supposition of its being harmless, who, if they
had been aware of its bad tendency, would have pro
ceeded with more caution, and made a better use of
their understanding ?
This is truly a notable expedient for determining
controversy in favour of licentious theories. An
author publishes a book, in which are many doctrines
fatal to human happiness, and subversive of human
society. If, from a regard to truth, and to mankind,
we endeavour to expose them in their proper colours,
and, by displaying their dangerous and absurd conse
quences, to deter men from rashly adopting them
without examination ; our adversary immediately
exclaims, " This is not fair reasoning ; this is per--
" sonal invective." Were the sentiments of the
public to be regulated by this exclamation, licentious
writers might do what mischief they pleased, and
no man durst appear in opposition, without being*
hooted at for his want of breeding. It is happy for
us all, that the law is not to be browbeaten by in
sinuations of this kind ; otherwise we should hear
some folks exclaim against it every day, as one of the
most ungenteel things in the world. And truly they
would have reason : for it cannot be denied, that an
indictment at the Old Bailey has much the air of a per
sonal invective ; and banishment, or burning in the
hand, amounts nearly to a personal assault ; nay, both
have often this express end, to make the person cf
the criminal odious : and yet in his judgment perhaps,
there was no great harm in picking a pocket of a
handkei chief, value thirteen-pence, provided it was
done with a good grace, Let not the majesty of
UHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 23!
science be offended by this allusion ; 1 mean not to
argue from it, for it is not quite similar to the case
in hand. That those men act the part of good citi
zens, who endeavour to overturn the plainest prin
ciples of human knowledge, and to subvert the foun
dations of all religion, I am far from thinking ; but I
should be exfremely sorry to see any other weapons
employed against them than those of reason and ri
dicule, chastised by decency and truth. Other wea
pons this cause requires not j nay, in this cause, all
other weapons would do more harm than good. And
let it still be remembered, that the object of our
strictures is not men, but books ; and that these
incur our censure, not because they bear certain
names, but because they contain certain- prin
ciples.
These remarks relate rather to the doctrines of
scepticism in general, than to this of necessity in
particular ; which I am not ignorant that many men,,
respectable both for their talents and principles, have
asserted. I presume, however, they would have
been more cautious if they had attended to the conse
quences that may be drawn from it. To which I now
return.
Some of the Fatalists are willing to reconcile their
system with our natural notions of moral good and
evil ; but all they have been able to do is, to remove
the difficulty a step or two further off. But the
most considerable of that party are not solicitous to
render these points consistent. If they can only es~
tablish necessity, they leave natural religion to shift
for itself. Mr HUME in particular affirms, that on
his principles it is impossible for natural reason to
vindicate the character of the Deity *. Had this-
author been possessed of one grain of that modesty
which he recommends in the conclusion of his essay ;..
had he thought it worth his while to sacrifice a little
pittance of ignominious applause to the happiness of
* Essay on Liberty and Necessity, sub. Jin.
232 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
human kind ; he would have shuddered at the thought
of inculcating a doctrine which he knew to be irre-
concileable with this great first principle of religion ;
and of which, therefore, he must have known, that it
tended to overturn the only durable foundation of
human society and human happiness.
The advocates for liberty, on the other hand, have
universally espoused the cause of virtue, and zeal
ously asserted the infinite wisdom and purity of the
divine nature. Now, I confess, that this very con
sideration is, according to my notion of things, a
strong argument in favour of the last mentioned doc
trine. Here are two opinions ; the one inconsistent
with the first principles of natural religion, as some
of those who maintain it acknowledge, a-s well as with
the experience, the belief, and the practice, of the ge
nerality of rational beings ; the other perfectly con
sistent with religion, conscience, and common sense*
If the reader believe, ivith me, that the Deity is in
finitely good and wise, he cannot balance a moment
between them ; nor hesitate to affirm, that the uni
versal belief of the former would produce much mis
chief and misery to mankind. If he be prepossessed
in favour of fatality, he ought, however, before he
acquiesce in it as true, to be well assured, that the
evidences of natural religion, particularly of the di
vine existence and attributes, are weaker than the
proofs that have been urged in behalf of necessity.
But will any one say, that this doctrine admits of a
proof, as unexceptionable as that by which we evince
the being and attributes of God ? I appeal to his
own heart, I appeal to the experience and conscious
ness of mankind ; are you as thoroughly con
vinced, that no past action of your life could possibly
have been prevented, and that no future action can
possibly be contingent, as that God is infinitely wise,
powerful, and good ? Examine the evidence of
"both propositions,, examine with candour the instinc
tive suggestions of your own mind j and then tell
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 235
me, whether you find atheism or man s moral liberty
hardest to be believed.
Perhaps I shall be told, that the belief of moral
liberty is attended with equal difficulties ; for that,
to reconcile the contingency of human actions with
the prescience of God, is as impossible, as to recon
cile necessity with his goodness and wisdom. O-
thers have answered this objection at length ; I make
the r efore only two brief remarks upon it. i. As it
implies not any reflection on the divine power, to say-
that it cannot perform impossibilities ; so neither, I
presume, does it imply any reflection on his know
ledge, to say, that he cannot foresee as certain, what
is really not certain, but only contingent. Yet he
sees all possible effects of all possible causes j and
our freedom to chuse good or evil can no more be
conceived to interfere with the final purposes of his
providence, than our power of moving our limbs is
inconsistent with our inability to remove mountains.
2. No man will take it upon him to say, that he dis
tinctly understands the manner in which the Deity-
acts, perceives, and knows : but the incomprehensi-
bleness of his nature will never induce men to doubt
his existence and attributes, unless there be men who
fancy themselves infallible, and of infinite capacity.
Shall I then conclude, because 1 cannot fully com
prehend the manner in which the divine prescience
operates, that therefore the Deity is not infinitely
perfect ? or that, therefore, I cannot be certain of
the truth of a sentiment which is warranted by my
constant experience, and by that of all mankind ?
Shall I say, that because my knowledge is not infi-
nite, therefore I hr.ve no knowledge ? Because I know
not when I shall die, does it follow, that 1 cannot be
certain of my being now alive ? Because God has
not told me every thing-, shall 1 refuse to believe
what he has told me ? To draw such a conclusion
from such premises is in my judgment, as contrary
to reason, as to say, that, because I am ignorant of
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART Jl,
the cause of magnetical attraction, therefore 1 ought
not to believe that the needle points to the north.
- That I am a free agent, I know and believe ; that
God foresees whatever can be foreseen, as he can do
whatever can be done, I also know and believe : nor
have the Fatalists ever proved, nor can they ever
prove, that the one belief is inconsistent with the other*
The asserters of human liberty have always
maintained, that to believe all actions and inte n-
lions necessary, is the same thing as to believe that
man is not an accountable being, or, in other
words, no moral agent. And indeed this notion is
natural to every person who has the courage to trust
his own experience, without seeking to puzzle plain
matter of fact with verbal distinctions and metaphy
sical refinement. But, it is said, the sense of moral
beauty and turpitude still remains with us, even af
ter we are convinced that all actions and intentions
are necessary ; that this sense maketh us moral a-
gents ; and therefore, that our moral agency is per
fectly consistent with our necessary agency. But
this is nothing to the purpose ; it is putting us off
with mere words. For what is moral agency, and
what is implied in it ? This at least must be implied
:;i it, that we ought to do some things, and not to
do ot>-ers. But if every intention and action of my
life is fixed by eternal laws, which I can neither e-
lude nor alter, it is as absurd to say to me, You
ought to be honest to-morrow, as to say, You ought
to stop the motion of the planets to-morrow. Un
less some events depend upon my determination,
aught, and ought not, have no meaning when appli
ed to me. Moral agency further implies, that we
are accountable for our conduct ; and that if we do
what we ought not to do, we deserve blame and
punishment. My conscience tells me, that I am ac
countable for those actions only that are in my own
power ; and neither blames nor approves, in myself
or in others, that conduct which is the effect, not of
CHAF. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 2J5
choice, but of necessity. Convince me, that all my
actions are equally necessary, and you silence my
conscience for ever, or at least prove it to be a falla
cious and impertinent monitor: you will then convince
me, that all circumspection is unnecessary, and all
remorse absurd. And is it a matter of little mo
ment, whether I believe my moral feelings authentic
and true, or equivocal and fallacious ? Can any prin
ciple be of more fatal consequence to me, or to socie
ty, than to believe, that the dictates of conscience are
false, unreasonable, or insignificant ? Yet this is one
certain effect of my becoming a Fatalist, or even
sceptical in regard to moral liberty.
I observe, that when a man s understanding begins
to be so far perverted by debauchery, as to make
him imagine his crimes unavoidable, from that mo
ment he begins to think them innocent, and deems it
a sufficient apology, that in respect of them he is no
longer a free but a necessary agent. The drunkard
pleads his constitution, the blasphemer urges the in
vincible force of habit, and the sensualist would have
us believe, that his appetites are too strong to be
resisted. Suppose all men so far perverted as to
argue in the same manner with regard to crimes of
every kind ; then it is certain, that all men would
be equally disposed to think all crimes innocent.
And what would be the consequence ? Licentiousness,
misery, and desolation, irremediable and universal.
If God intended that men should be happy, and that
the human race should continue for many genera
tions, he certainly intended also that men should be
lieve themselves free, moral, and accountable crea
tures.
Supposing it possible for a man to act upon the
belief of his being a necessary agent, let us see how
he would behave in some of the common affairs of
life. He does me an injury. I go to him and re
monstrate. You will excuse me, says he ; I was put
upon it b/ one on whom I am dependent, and who
236 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
threatened me with beggary and perdition if I refus
ed to comply. I acknowledge this to be a consider
able alleviation of the poor man s guilt. Next day
he repeats the injury ; and, on my renewing my re
monstrances, Truly, says he, I was offered sixpence to
do it ; or I did it to please my humour : but I know
you will pardon me, when I tell you, that as all mo
tives are the necessary causes of the actions that pro
ceed from them, it follows, that all motives produc
tive of the same action are irresistible, and therefore,
in respect of the agent, equally strong : I am there
fore as innocent now as I was formerly ; for the e-
vent has proved, that the motive arising from the of
fer of sixpence, or from the impulse of whim, was
as effectual in producing the action w 7 hich you call
an injury, as the motive arising from the fear of
ruin. Notwithstanding this fine speech, I should be
afraid, that these principles, if persisted in, and act
ed upon, w T ould soon bring the poor Fatalist to Ty
burn or Bedlam.
Will you promise to assist me to-morrow with
your labour, advice, or interest ? No, says the prac
tical Fatalist ; I can promise nothing : for my con
duct to-morrow will certainly be determined by the
motive that then happens to predominate. Let your
promise, say I, be your motive. How can you be
so ignorant, he replies, as to imagine that our motives
to action are in our own power ! O sad, O sad ! you
must study metaphysic, indeed you must. Why,
Sir, our motives to action are obtruded upon us by
Irresistible necessity. Perhaps they arise immedi
ately from some passion, judgment, fancy, or, if you
please, volition ; but this- volition, fancy, judgment-,
or passion what is it ? an effect without a cause ?
No, no ; it is necessarily excited by some idea, ob
ject, or nation, which presents itself independently
on me, and in consequence of some extrinsic cause,
the operation cf which I can neither foresee nor pre-
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 237
vent Where is the man who would chuse this fa
talist for his friend, companion, or fellow-citizen ?
who will say, that society could at all subsist, if the
generality of mankind were to think, and speak, and
act upon such principles ?
But, says the Fatalist, is it not easy to imagine
cases in which the men who helieves themselves free,
would act the part of fools or knaves ? Nothing in
deed is more easy. Bat let it be observed, that the
folly or knavery of such mer,, arises, not from their
persuasion of their own free agency, for many mil
lions of this persuasion have passed through life
with a fair character, but from other causes. I can
not conceive any greater discouragement from kna
very and folly, than the consideration that man is an
accountable being ; and I know not how we can sup
pose him accountable, unless we suppose him free.
The obvious tendency of our principles is therefore
to deter men from knavery and folly ; whereas it is
impossible for a Fatalist to act -upon his own princi
ples for one day, without rendering himself ridicu
lous or detestable.
The reader, if disposed to pursue these hints, ard
attend, in imagination, to the behaviour of the prac
tical fatalist in the more interesting scenes of pii:,iic
and private life, may entertain himself with a series
of adventures, more ludicrous, or at least more irra
tional, than any of those for which the knight of La
Mancha is celebrated. I presume 1 have said e-
nough to satisfy every impartial mind, " That the
" real and general belief of necessity would be at-
" tended with fatal consequences to science, and to
" human nature ;" which is a repetition of the third
remark we formerly made on the doctrine of the non-
existence of body *.
And now we have proved, that if there was any
reason for rejecting Berkeley s doctrine as absurd,
U_2
* See the end of the preceding section.
238 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH* FART II.
and contrary to common sense, before his arguments
were shewn to arise from the abuse of words, there
is at present the same reason for rejecting the doc
trine of necessity, even on the supposition that it
hath not as jet been logically confuted. Both doc
trines are repugnant to the general belief of mankind :
both, notwithstanding all the efforts of the subtlest
sophistry, are still incredible : both are so contrary
to nature, and to the condition of human beings, that
they cannot be carried into practice ; and so contra
ry to true philosophy, that they cannot be admitted
into science, without bringing scepticism along with
them, and rendering questionable the plainest princi
ples of moral truth, and the very distinction between
truth and falsehood. In a word, we have proved,
that common sense, as it teacheth us to believe and
be assured of the existence of matter, doth also teach
us to believe and be assured, that man is a free a-
gent.
It would lead us too far from our present purpose,
to enter upon a logical examination of the argument
for necessity. Our design is only to explain by what
marks one may distinguish the principles of common
sense, that is, intuitive, or self-evident notions, from
those deceitful and inveterate opinions that have some
times assumed the same appearance. If 1 have satisfied
the reader, that the free agency of men is a self-evi
dent fact, I have also satisfied him, that all reasoning
on the side of necessity, tho accounted unanswera
ble, is, in its very nature, and previously to all con
futation, absurd and irrational, and contrary to the
practice and principles of all true philosophers.
Let not the friends of liberty be discouraged by
the perplexing arguments of thi Fatalist *. Argu-
* There is no subject on which doubts and difficulties
may not be started by ingenious and disputatious men : and
therefore, from the number of their objections, and the
length of the controversy to which they give occasion, v, e
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH.
ments in opposition to self-evident truth, must, if
plausible, be perplexing. Think what method of
argumentation a man must pursue, who sets himself
to confute any axiom in geometry, or to argue against
the existence of a sentiment, acknowledged and felt
by all mankind. Indeed I cannot see how such a
person should ever impose upon people of sense, ex
cept by availing himself of expressions, which either
are in themselves ambiguous, or become so by his
manner of applying them. If the ambiguity be dis-
cernable, the argument can have no force ; if there
be no suspicion of ambiguity, the dispute may be
continued from generation to generation, without
working any change in the sentiments of either party.
When fact is disregarded, when intuition goes for no
thing, when no standard of truth is acknowledged,
and every unanswered argument is deemed unan
swerable, true reasoning is at an end j and the dis
putant, having long ago lost sight of common sense,
is so far from regaining the path of truth, that, like
Thomson s peasant bewildered in the snow, he con
tinues " to wander on still more and more astray."
l any person will give himself the trouble to exa
mine the whole controversy concerning liberty and
necessity, he will find, that the arguments on both
sides come at last to appear unanswerable : there is
no common principle acknowledged by both parties,
to which an appeal can be made, and each party
charges the other with begging the question. Is it
not then better to rest satisfied with the simple feel-
cannot, in any case, conclude, that the original evidence is
weak, or even that it is not obvious and striking. Were
we to presume, that every principle is dubious against which
specious objections may be contrived, \ve should be quickly
led into universal scepticism. The two ways in which the
ingenuity of speculative men has been most commonly- em
ployed, are dogmatical assertions of doubtful opinions, awd
subtle cavils against certain truths.
Gerard s Diss^rl-aitcns^ ii. ,4,
240 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
ing of the understanding ? I feel that it is in my
power to will or not to will : all you can say about
the influence of motives will never convince me of
the contrary ; or if I should say that I am convinced
by your arguments, my conduct must continually
bely my profession. One thing is undeniable : your
words are obscure, my feeling is not ; this is uni
versally attended to, acknowledged, and acted upon ;
those to the majority of mankind would be unintel
ligible, nay, perhaps they are in a great measure so
even to yourselves.
CHAP. III.
Recapitulation and Inference.
nPHE substance of the preceding illustrations, when
* applied to the principal purpose of this discourse,
is as followeth :
Although it be certain, that all just reasoning does
ultimately terminate in the principles of common
sense ; that is, in principles which must be admitted
as certain, or as probable, upon their own authority,
without evidence, or at least without proof ; even as
all mathematical reasoning does ultimately terminate
in self-evident axioms : yet philosophers, especially
those who have applied themselves to the investiga
tion of the laws of human nature, have not always
been careful to confine the reasoning faculty within
its proper sphere, but have vainly imagined, that
even the principles of common sense are subject to
the cognisance of reason, and may be either confirmed
or confuted by argument. They have accordingly,
in many instances, carried their investigations higher
than the ultimate and self-supported principles of
common sense ; and by so doing have introduced
many errors, and much false reasoning, into the moral
sciences. To remedy this, it was proposed, as a
matter deserving serious attention, to ascertain the
separate provinces of reason and common sense. And
CHAP. III. ESSAY ON TRUTH.
because, in many cases, it may be difficult to dis
tinguish a principle of common sense from an ac
quired prejudice ; and, consequently, to know at what
point reasoning ought to stop, and the authority of
common sense to be admitted as decisive ; it was.
therefore judged expedient to inquire, " Whether
such reasonings as have been prosecuted beyond
" ultimate principles, be not marked with some pe-
" culiar characters, by which they may be distin-
" guished from legitimate investigation." To illus
trate this point, the doctrines of the non-existence of
matter, and the necessity of human actions, were
pitched upon as examples ; i n which, at least in the
former of which, common sense, in the opinion of all
competent judges, is confessedly violated ; the na
tural effects produced upon the mind by the reason
ings that have been urged in favour of these doctrines r
were considered ; and the consequences, resulting
from the admission of such reasonings, were taken
notice of, and explained. And it was found, that the
reasonings that have been urged in favour of these
doctrines are really marked with some peculiar cha
racters, which it is presumed, can belong to no legi
timate argumentation whatsoever. Of these reason
ings it was observed, and proved, " That the doc*
" trines they are intended to establish are contradic-
" tory to the general belief df all men in all ages >
" That, though enforced and supported with sin-
" gular subtlety, and though admitted by some pro-
" fessed philosophers, they do not produce that con-
" viction which sound reasoning never fails to pro-
" duce in the intelligent mind ; and,- lastly, That
" really to believe, and to act from a real belief of
" such doctri.ies and reasonings, must be attended
" with fatal consequences to science,, to virtue, to-
" human society, and to all the important interests of
" mankind."
I do not suppose, that all the errors which have
arisen from not attending to the foundation of truth^.
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.
and essential rules of reasoning, as here explained,
are equally dangerous. Some of them perhaps may
be innocent; to such the last of these characters can
not belong. If wholly innocent, it is of little conse
quence, whether we know them to be errors or not.
When a new tenet is advanced in moral science, there
will be a strong presumption against it, if contrary
to universal opinion : for as every man may find the
evidence of moral science in his own breast, it is not
to be supposed, that the generality of mankind would,
for any length of time, persist in an error, which
their own daily experience, if attended to without
prejudice, could not fail to rectify. Let, therefore,
the evidence of the new tenet be carefully examined,
and attended to. If it produce a full and clear con
viction in the intelligent mind, and at the same time
serve to explain the causes of the universality and
long continuance of the old erroneous opinion, the
new one ought certainly to be received as true. But
if the assent produced by the ne*v doctrine be vague,
indefinite and unsatisfying ; if nature and common
sense reclaim against it ; if it recommend modes of
thought that are inconceivable, or modes of action
that are impracticable : it is not, it cannot be true,
however plausible its evidences may appear.
Some will think, perhaps, that a straighter and
shorter course might have brought me sooner, and
with equal security, to this conclusion. I acknowledge
I have taken a pretty wide circuitv This was ow
ing in part to my love of perspicuity, which in these
subjects hath not always been studied so much as it
ought to have been ; and partly, and chiefly, to my
desire of confuting, on this occasion, (as I wish to
have done with metaphysical controversy for ever),
as many of the most pernicious tenets of modern
scepticism as could be brought within my present
plan. But the reader will perceive, that I have en
deavoured to conduct all my digressions in such a
CHAP. III. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 243
manner, as that they might serve for illustrations of
the principal subject.
To teach men to distinguish by intuition a dictate
of common sense from an acquired prejudice, is a
work which nature only can accomplish. We shall
ever be more or less sagacious in this respect, accord
ing as Heaven has endowed us with greater or less
strength of mind, vivacity of perception, and solidity
of judgment. The method here recommended is
more laborious, and much less expeditious. Yet
this method, if I am not greatly mistaken, may be of
considerable use, to enable us to form a proper esti*
mate of those reasonings, which, by violating com
mon sense, tend to subvert every principle of rational
belief, to sap the foundations of truth and science,
and to leave the mind exposed. to all the horrors of
scepticism. To be puzzled by such reasonings, is
neither a crime nor a dishonour ; though in many,
cases it may be both dishonourable and criminal ta
suffer ourselves to be deluded by them. For is not
this to prefer the equivocal voice of a vain, selfish,
and ensnaring wrangler, to the clear, the benevolent,
the infallible dictates of nature ? Is not this to bely-
ur sentiments, to violate our constitution, to sin
against our own soul ? Is not this " to forsakes
" the fountains of living water, and to hew out
" unto ourselves broken cisterns that can hold no
water?"
PART III.
OBJECTIONS ANSWERED.
r T^HEY who consider virtue as a subject of mere
* curiosity, and think that the principles of morals*
and properties of conic sections ought to be explain T
ed with the same degree of apathy and indifference,
will find abundant matter for censure in the preced
ing observations. As the author is not very ambi
tious of the good opinion of such theorists, he will
244 A N ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III.
not give himself much trouble in multiplying apolo
gies for what, .to them,, may have the appearance of
keenness or severity in the animadversions- he has
hitherto made, or may hereafter make, on the prin
ciples of certain noted philosophers. He considers
happiness as the end and aim of our being ; and he
thinks philosophy valuable only so far as it may be
conducive to this end. Ilurrinn, happiness seemeth
to him wholly unattainable, except by the means
that virtue and religion provide. Ha is therefore
persuaded, that while employed in pleading the-
cause of virtue, and of true science, its best auxi
liary, he supports, in some measure, the character
of a friend to human kind ; and he wor.ld think his
right to that glorious appellation extremely question
able, if the warmth of his zeal dkl not bear some
proportion to the importance of his cause. How
ever suspicious he may be of his ability to vindi
cate the rights of his fellow-creatures, he is not sus
picious of his inclination. He feels, that, on such
a subject, he must speak from the heart, 01 not
speak at all. For the genius and manner of his dis
course he has no other apology to offer : and by e-
very person of spirit, candour, and benevolence, he
is sure that this apology will be deemed sufficient.
As to the principles and matter of it, he is less
confident. These, though neither visionary nor un
important, may possibly be misunderstood. He
therefore begs leave to urge a few things, for the
further vindication and illustration of them. To his
own mind they are fully satisfactory ; he hopes to
render them equally so to every candid -reader.
Happy ! if he should be as successful in establish
ing conviction, as others have been in subverting
it.,
CHAP. I* AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 245
CHAP. I.
Further remarks on the consistency of tlese pnnci~
pies with tie interests of Science , and the Rights
of mankind.
TT may possibly be objected to this discourse,
* That " it tends to discourage freedom of inquiry,
" and to promote implicit faith."
But nothing is more contrary to my design ; as
those who attend, without prejudice, to the full **m-
port of what I have advanced on the subject of evi
dence, will undoubtedly pe rceive. Let me be per
mitted to repeat, that the truths in which mun is
most concerned do not lie exceedingly deep ; nor are
we to estimate either their importance, or thc>r cer-
tanity, by the length of the line of cur investiga
tion.. The evidences of the philosophy of human
nature are found in our own breast ; we need not
roam abroad in quest of them ; the unlearned are
judges of them as \vell as tre learned. Ambiguities
have arisen, when the feelings of the heart and un
derstanding were expressed in words ; but the ffj-
ings themselves were not ambiguous. Let a man
attentively examine himself, with a sincere purpose
of discovering the truth, and without any bias in
favour of particular theories, and he will seldom be
at a Joss in regard to those truths, at least, that are
most essential to his happiness and duty. If men
must needs amuse themselves with metaphysical in
vestigation, let them apply if, where it can do no
harm, to the distinctions and logomachies of onto
logy. In the science of human nature it cannot pos
sibly do good, but must of necessity do infinite mis
chief. What avail the obscure deductions of verbal
argument, in illustrating what we sufficiently know by
experience? or in shewing that to be fictitious and
false, whose energy we must feel and acknowledge
every moment ? When therefore I find a pretended
246 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III,
principle of human nature evinced by a dark and
intricate investigation, I am tempted to suspect, not
without reason, that its evidence is no where to be
found but in the arguments of the theorist j and
these, when disguised by quaint distinctions, and
ambiguous language, it is sometimes hard to con
fute, even when the heart recoils from the doctrine
with contempt or detestation. If the doctrine be
true, it must also be agreeable to experience : to ex
perience, therefore, let the appeal be made ; let the
circumstances be pointed out, in which the contro
verted sentiment arises, or is supposed to arise.
This is to act the philosopher, not the metaphysi
cian ; the interpreter of nature, not the builder of
systems. But let us consider the objection more
particularly*
What then do you mean by that implicit faith, to
which you suppose these principles too favourable ?
Do you mean. an acquiescence in the dictates of our
own understanding, or in those of others ? If the
former, I must tell you, that such implicit faith
is the only kind of belief which true philosophy re
commends. I have already remarked, that, while
man continues in his present state, our own intellec
tual feelings are, and must be, the standard of truth
to us. All evidence productive of belief, is resolv
able into the evidence of consciousness j and comes
at last to this point, I believe because I believe, or
because the law of my nature determines rne to b<?*
Jieve. This belief may be called implicit ; but it is
the only rational belief of which we are capable : and
to say, that our minds ought not to submit to it, is
as absurd as to say, that our bodies ought not to be
nourished with food. Revelation itself must be at
tended with evidence to satisfy consciousness or
common sense ; otherwise it can never be rationally
believed. By the evidence of the gospel, the ra
tional Christian is persuaded that it comes from God.
He acquiesces in it as truth ; not because it is recoir-
T. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 247
mended by others, but because it satisfies his owa
understanding.
But if, by implicit faith, you mean, what I think
is commonly meant by that term, an unwarrantable
or unquestioned acquiescence in the sentiments of
other men, I deny that any part of this discourse
hath a tendency to promote it. I never said, that
doctrines are to be taken for granted without exami
nation ; though I affirmed, that, in regard to moral
doctrines, a long and intricate examination is neither
necessary nor expedient. With moral truth, it is the
business of every man to be acquainted ; and there
fore the Deity has made it level to every capacity.
Far be it from a lover of truth to discourage free
dom of iniquiry ! Man is possessed of reasoning
powers ; by means of which he may bring that with
in the sphere of common sense, which was original
ly beyond it. Of these powers he may, and ought
to avail himself; for many important truths are not
-self-evident, and our faculties were not designed for
a state of inactivity. But neither were they design
ed to be employed in fruitless or dangerous investi
gation. Our knowledge and capacity are limited ; it
is fit and necessary they should be so : we need not
wandei into forbidden paths, or attempt to penetrate
inaccessible regions, in quest of employment ; the
cultivation of useful and practical science, the j > >~
provement of arts, and the indispensable duties of
life, will furnish ample scope to all the exertions of
human genius. Surely that man is my friend, who
dissuades me from attempting what I cannot perform,
ncr even attempt without danger. And is not he a
friend to science and mankind, who endeavours to
discourage fallacious and unprofitable speculation,
and to propose a criterion by which it may be known
3nd avoided ?
But if reasoning ought not to be carried beyond 2
certain boundary, and if it is the authority of com
mon cense that nxeth this boundary, and if it be pos-
ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART IU.
sible to mistake a prejudice for a principle of com
mon sense, how (it may be saicQ are prejudices to
be detected ? At this rate, a man has nothing to
do, but to call his prejudice a dictate of common
sense, and then it is established in perfect security,
beyond the reach of argument. Does not this fur
nish a pretence for limiting the freedom of inquiry ?
-Having already said a great deal in answer to the
first part of this question, I need not now say much
in answer to the last. I shall only ask, on the o-
ther hand, what method of reasoning is the proper-
est for overcoming the prejudices of an obstinate
man ? Are we to wrangle with him in infinitum,
without ever arriving at any fixed principle ? That
surely is not the way to illustrate truth, or rectify
error. Do we mean to ascertain the importance of
our arguments by their number, and to pronounce
that the better -cause whose champion gives the last
word? This, I fear, would not mend the matter.
Suppose our antagonist should deny a self-evident
truth, or refuse his assent to an intuitive probabili
ty ; must we not refer him to the common sense of
mankind ? If we do not, we must either hold our
peace, or have recourse to sophistry : for when a
principle comes to be intuitively true or false, all le
gitimate reasoning is at an end, and ail further
reasoning impertinent. To the common sense of
mankind we must therefore refer him sooner or
latter ; and if he continue obstinate, we must leave
him. Is it not then of consequence to truth, and
may it not serve to prevent many a sophistical ar
gument, and unprofitable logomachy, that we have
it continually in view, that common sense is the
standard of truth ? a maxim, which men are not al
ways disposed to admit in its full latitude, and
which, in the heat and hurry of dispute, they are
upt to overlook altogether. Some men will always
be found, who think the most absurd prejudices
founded in common sense. Reasonable men never
scruple to submit their prejudices or principles to
CHAP. I. ESSAY ON TRUTH. 249
examination : but if that examination turn to no ac
count, or if it turn to a bad account ; if it only puz
zle where it ought to convince, and darken what it
-ought to illustrate ; if it recommend impracticable
modes of action, or inconceivable modes of thought ;
I must confess I cannot perceive the use of it.
This is the only kind of reasoning that I mean to dis
courage. It is this kind of reasoning that has pro
ved so fatal to the abstract sciences. In it all our
sceptical systems are founded ; of it they consist j-
and by it they are supported* Till the abstract
sciences be cleared of this kind of reasoning, they
deserve not the name of philosophy : they may a-
rnuse a weak and turbulent mind, and render it still
weaker and more turbulent ; but they cannot con
vey any real instruction : they may undermine the
foundations of virtue and science - 9 but they cannot
illustrate a single truth, nor establish one principle
of importance, nor improve the mind of man in any
respect whatsoever.
By some it may be thought an objection ;o the
principles of this essay, " That they seem to recom-
" mend a method of confutation which is not strict-
* ly according to log ic, and do actually contradict
* some of the established laws of that science."
It will readily be acknowledged, that many of the
maxims of the school-logic are founded in truth and
nature, and have so long obtained universal approba
tion, that they are now become proverbial in philo
sophy. Many of its rules and distinctions are ex
tremely useful, not so much for strengthening the
jadgment,as for enabling the disputant quickly to com
prehend, and perspicuously to express, in what the
force or fallacy of an argument consists. The ground
work of this science, the Logic of Aristotle, if
we may judge of the whole by the part now ex
tant, is one of the most successful and most extraor
dinary effects of philosophic genius that ever appear
ed in the world. And yet, if we consider this sci-
X2
ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART 111.
ence, with regard to its design and consequences, we
shall perhaps see reason to think, that a strict ob-
bervance of its laws is not always necessary to the
discovery of truth.
It was originally intended as a help to discourse a-
mong a talkative and sprightly people. The con
stitution of Athens made public speaking of great
importance, and almost a certain road to preferment
or distinction. This was also in some measure the
case at Rome j but the Romans were more reserved,
and did uot, till about the time of Cicero, think of
i educing conversation or public breaking to rule.
The vivacity of the Athenians, euccuraged by their
democratical spirit, made them fond of disputes and
declamations, which were often carried on without
any view to discover truth, but merely to gratify
humour, give employment to the tongue, and amuse
a vacant hour. Some of the dialogues of Plato are
to be considered in this light, rather as exercises iu
declamation, than serious disquisitions in philosophy.
It is true, this is not the only merit even of such of
them as seem the least considerable. If we are of
ten dissatisfied with his doctrine ; if we have little
curiosity to learn the characters and manners of that
age. whereof he has given so natural a representa
tion j we must yet acknowledge, that as models for
elegance and simplicity of composition, the most in.
considerable of Plato s dialogues are very useful and
ingenious. His speakers often compliment each o-
ther on the beauty of their style even when there is
nothing very striking in the sentiment *. If there
fore, we would form a just estimate of Plato, we
must regard him not only as a philosopher, but also
as a rhetorician ; for it is evident he was ambitious
to excel in both characters. But it appears, not to
have been his opinion, that the practice of extempo
rary speaking and disputing, so frequent in his time
* See the Symposium. Platonis opera, vol. 3. p. 198.
Bdit. Saxran.
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 251
had any direct tendency to promote the investigation
of truth, or the acquisition of wisdom. The Lace
demonians, the most reserved and most silent people
in Greece, and who made the least pretensions to a
literary character, were, in his judgment, a nation
not only of the wisest men, but of the greatest phi
losophers. Their words were few, their address
not without rusticity ; but the meanest of them
was able, by a single expression, dextrously aimed,
and seasonably introduced, to make the stranger
with whom he conversed appear no wiser than a
child*.
The Athenians, accustomed to reduce every thing.
to art, and among whom the spirit of science was
more prevalent than in any other nation ancient or
modern, had contrived a kind of technical logic long
before the days of Aristotle. Their sophists taught
it in conjunction with rhetorics and philosophy.
But Aristotle brought it to perfection, and seems to
have been the first who professedly disjoined it from,
the other arts and sciences. On his logic was found
ed that of the school-men. But they, like other
commentators, often misunderstood the text, and often
perverted it to the purpose of a favourite system.
They differed from one another in their notions of
Aristotle s doctrine, ranged themselves into sects
and parties ; and, instead of explaining the princi
ples of their master, made it their sole business to
comment upon one another. Now and then men of
learning arose, who endeavoured to revive the true
* E/ r/V fcOlxo/ Aax.il OL i uorf coy TU $OLVKOTKTO vvyyi-
r?a9a/, r<x. f/.\v TTOKKQL tv TO?C xoyoi$ ivfrxrii avrcy
TIVOL $OLtyOjU.iVOV, fGTilTOL GZTGV OLV TV^Cl TUV
<pamt/0cu roy nfqttttU&JffttkQl TTOLI-
Socrates in Plat. Protogora, voL I,/, 342..
X
*5 3 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART IIT.
Peripatetic philosophy ; but their efforts, instead
of proving successful, served only to provoke perse
cution ; and at length the scholastic system grew so
corrupt, and at the same time so enormous in magni
tude, that it became an insuperable incumbrance to
the understanding, and contributed not a little to
perpetuate the ignorance and barbarism of those times.
The chief aim of the old logic, even in its purest
form, (so far at least as it was a practical science^,
was to render men expert in arguing readily on eith
er side of any question. But it is one thing to em
ploy our faculties in searching after truth, and a
very different thing to employ them equally in de
fence of truth and of error ; and the same modifica
tion of intellect that fits a man for the one, will by
no means qualify him for the other. Nay, if I mis
take nor, the talents that fit us for discovering truth
are rather hurt than improved by the practice of
sophistry. To argue against one s own conviction,
must always have a bad effect on the heart, and ren
der one more indifferent about the truth, and per
haps more incapable of perceiving it *.
To dispute readily on either side of any question,
is admired by some as a very high accomplishment :
but it is what any person of moderate abilities may
easily acquire by a little practice. Perhaps moderate
abilities are the most favourable to the acquisition of
this talent. Sensibility and penetration, the insepa
rable attendants, or rather the most essential parts
of true genius, qualify a man for discovering truth
with little labour of investigation ; and at the same
time interest hiiB so deeply in it, that he cannot bear
to turn his view to the other side of the question.
Thus he never employs himself in devising argu-
* See the story of Pertinax in the Rambler, No. 95 j
Y/here the effects of habitual disputation , in perverting the
Judgments, and vitiating the heart, are illustrated with the
it .mcst energy and elegance.
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY OH TRUTH, 253
ments ; and therefore seldom arrives at any profi
ciency in that exercise. But the man of slow intel
lect and dull imagination advances step by step in his
enquiries, without any keenness of sentiment,, or ar
dor of fancy, to distract his attention j and without
that instantaneous anticipation of consequences, that
leads the- man of genius to the conclusion, even be
fore he has examined all the intermediate relations.
Hence he naturally acquires a talent for minute ob
servation, and for a patient examination or circum
stances ; at the same time that his insensibility pre
vents his interesting himself warmly on either side,
and leaves him leisure to attend equally to his own
arguments, and to those of the antagonist. This gives
him eminent superiority in a dispute, and fits him,
not indeed for discovering truth, but for baffling an
adversary and supporting a system*
I have been told that Newton, the first time he
read Euclid s Elements, perceived instantly, and al
most intuitively, the truth of the several pioposU
tions, before he consulted the proof* Such vivacity
and strength of judgment are extraordinary : and in
deed, in the case of mathematical and physical truths,
we are seldom to expect this instantaneous anticipa
tion of consequences, even from men of more than
moderate talents. But in moral subjects, and in most
of the matters that are debated in conversation, there
is rarely any need of comparing a great number of
intermediate relations : every person of sound judg
ment sees the truth at once : or, if he does not, it is
owing to his ignorance of some facts or circumstan
ces, which may be soon learned from a plain narra
tive, but which are disguised and confounded more
and more by wrangling and contradiction. If there
be no means of clearing the disputed facts or difficul
ties, it would not, I presume, be imprudent to drop
the subject, and talk of something else.
It .is pleasant enough to hear the habitual wrang
ler endeavouring to justify his conduct by a pretence
2fJ4 AN ESSAY. ON TRUTH. PART III.
of zeal for the truth. It is not the love of truth,
"but of victory, that engages him in disputation. I
have witnessed many contests of this kind ; but have
seldom seen them lead, or even tend to any useful
discovery. Where ostentation, self-conceit., or love
of paradox, are not concerned, they commonly arise
from some verbal ambiguity, or from the misconcep
tion of some fact, which both parties taking it for
granted that they perfectly understand, are at no
pains to ascertain : and, when once begun, are, by
the vanity or obstinacy of the speakers, or perhaps
by their mere love of speaking, continued, till acci
dent put an end to them by silencing the parties, ra
ther than reconciling their opinions. I once saw a
number of persons, neither unlearned nor ill-bred,
meet together to pass a social evening. As ill-luck
would have it, a dispute arose about the propriety of
a certain manoeuvre at quadrille, in which some of
the company had been interested the night before.
Two parties of disputants were immediately formed ;
and the matter was warmly argued from six o clock
till midnight, when the company broke up. Being
no adept in cards, I could not enter into the merits
of the cause, nor take any part in the controversy ;
but I observed, that each of the speakers persisted
to the last in the opinion he took up at the begin
ning, in which he seemed to be rather confirmed than
staggered by the arguments that had been urged in
opposition. With such enormous waste of time, with
such vile prostitution of reason and speech, with
such wanton indifference to thepleasures of friendship,
all disputes are not attended ; but most of them, if
I mistake not, will be found to be equally unprofit
able.
I grant, that much of our knowledge is gathered
from our intercourse with one another} but I can
not think that we are greatly indebted to the argu
mentative part of conversation ; and nobody will say,
that the most disputatious companions are either
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH.
the most agreeable or the most instructive. For my
own part, I have always found those to be the most
delightful and most improving conversations, in
which there was the least contradiction ; every per
son entertaining the utmost possible respect, both for
the judgment, and for the veracity of his associate ;
and none assuming any of those dictatorial airs,
which are so offensive to the lovers of liberty, mo
desty and friendship If a catalogue were to be
made of all the truths that have been discovered by
wrangling in company, or by solemn disputations in
the schools, I believe it would appear, that the con
tending parties might have been employed as advan
tageously to mankind, and much more so to them
selves, in whipping a top, or brandishing a rattle.
The extravagant fondness of the Stoics for logical
quibbles, is one of the most disagreeable peculiari
ties in the writings of that sect. Every body must
have been disgusted with it in reading some passa
ges of the conversations of Epictetus, preserved by
Arrian ; and must be satisfied, that it tended rather
to weaken and bewilder, than to improve the under
standing. One could hardly believe to what ridicu
lous excess they carried it. There was a famous
problem among them called the Pseudomenos, which
waa to this purpose : " When a man says, I lie, does
" he lie, or does he not ? If he lies, he speaks truth j.
" if he speaks truth, he lies." Many were the books
that their philosophers wrote, in order to solve this
wonderful problem. Chrysippus favoured the world
with no fewer than six ; and Phiietas studied him
self to death in his attempts to solve it. Epictetus,
whose good sense often triumphs over the extrava
gance of Stoicism, justly ridicules this logical phren-
z.y *.
Socrates made little account of the subtleties of
logic ; being more solicitous to instruct others^ tham
* Arrian, lib. ii. cap. 17.
AN ESSAT ON TRUTH. PART III.
to distinguish himself *. He inferred his doctrine
from the concessions of those with whom he convers
ed ; so that he left no room for dispute, as the adver
sary could not contradict him, without contradicting
himself. And yet to Socrates, philosophy is perhaps
more indebted than to any other person whatever.
We have therefore no reason to think, that truth
is discoverable by those means only which the tech
nical logic prescribes. Aristotle knew the theory
both of sophisms and syllogisms, better than any o-
ther man ; yet Aristotle himself is sometimes im
posed on by sophisms of his own invention . And
it is remarkable, that his moral, rhetorical, and poli
tical writings, in which his own excellent judgment
is little warped by logical subtleties, are far the most
useful, and, in point of sound reasoning, the most
unexceptionable part of his philosophy.
The apparent tendency of the school-logic is, to
render men disputatious and sceptical, adepts in the
knowledge of words, but inattentive to fact and ex
perience. It makes them fonder of speaking than
thinking, and therefore strangers to themselves ; so
licitous chiefly about rule?, names, and distinctions,
and therefore leaves them neither leisure nor incli
nation for the study of life and manners. In a word,
it makes them more ambitious to distinguish them
selves as the partisans of a dogmatist, than as enquir
ers after truth. It is easy to see how far a man of
this temper is qualified to make discoveries in know
ledge. To such a rnan, indeed, the name of truth
is only a pretence : he neither is, nor can be, much
* Supra, part 2. chap. 2. sect. 1.
$ Thus he is said to have proved the earth to be the
centre of the universe, by the following sophism. " Hea~
" vy bodies naturally tend to the centre of the universe j
" we know by experience, that heavy bodies tend to the
** centre of the earth j therefore the centre of the earth is
** the same with that of the universe." Which is what
the logicians call peiiiio frincipii, or begging the
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY Otf TRUTH. 157
interested in the solidity or importance of his tenets;
it is enough if he can render them plausible ; nay, it
is enough if he can silence his adversary by any
means. The captious turn of an habitual wrangler,
deadens the understanding, sours the temper, <md har
dens the heart : by rendering the mind suspicions,
and attentive to trifles, it weakens the sagacity of
instinct, and extinguishes the fire of imagination ; it
transforms conversation i ;to a state of warfare, and
restrains those lively sallies of fancy, so effectual in
promoting good humour and good-will, which, tho
often erroneous, are a thous;md times more valuable
than the dull correctness of a mood- and-figure dis
ciplinarian.
One of the first maxims of the school-logic is,
That nothing is to be bt-lieved, but what we can give
a reason for believing ; a maxim destructive of all
truth and science, as hath been fully shown in the
former part of this discourse. We must not, how
ever, lay this maxim to the charge of the ancient lo
gic. Dts CARTES, and the modern sceptics, got it
from the schoolmen, who forged it out of some pas
sages of Aris otle misunderstood. The philosopher
said indeed, that all investigation should begin with
doubt ; but this doubt is to remain only till the un
derstanding be convinced ; which, in Aristotle s judg
ment, may be effected by intuitive evidence as well
as by argumentative. The doctrine we have been
endeavouring to illustrate, tends not to encourage any
prejudices, or any opinions, unfriendly to truth or
virtue : its only aim is, to establish the authority of
those instinctive principles of conviction and assent,
which the rational part of mankind have acknow
ledged in all ages, and which the condition of man,
in respect both of action and intelligence, renders it
absurd not to acknowledge. We cannot suppose,
that the human mind, unlike to all other natural sy
stems, is made up of incompatible principles; in it,
as in all the rest, there must be unity of design ; and
258 AN ESSAY Otf TRUTH. PART III.
therefore the principles of human belief, and of hu
man action, must have one and the same tendency.
But many of our modern philosophers teach a dif
ferent doctrine ; endeavouring to persuade themselves,
and others, that they otighc not to believe what they
cannot possibly disbelieve ; and that those actions
may be absurd, and contrary to truth, the perfor
mance of which is necessary to our very existence.
If they will nave it, that this is philosophy, I shall
not dispute about the word ; but I insist on it, that
ail such philosophy is no better than pedantic non
sense ; and that, if a man were to write a book, to
prove, that fire is the element in which we ought to
live, he would not act more absurdly, than some me
taphysicians of these times would be thought to have
acted, if their works were understood, and rated ac
cording to their intrinsic merit.
That every thing may be made matter of dispute,
is another favourite maxim of the school-logic ; and
it would not be easy to devise one more detrimental
to true science. What a strange propensity these
doctors have had to disputation ! One would think,
that, in their judgment, " the chief end of man is,
" to contradict his neighbour, and wrangle with him
" for ever." To attempt a proof of what I know to
J>* false, and a confutation of what I know to be
true, is an exercise from which 1 can never expect
CK" vantage so long as I deem rationality a blessing.
I never heard it prescribed as a recipe for strength
ening the si^ht, to keep constantly blindfolded in the
4ay-time, and put on spectacles when we go to sleep ;
nor can I imagine how the ear of a musician could
be improve... by his playing frequently on an ill-tuned
fiddle. And yet the school-men seem to have
thought, that the more we shut our eyes against the
truth, we shall the more distinctly perceive it ^ and
that the oftener we practise falsehood, we shall be
the more sagacious in detecting, and the more hearty
in abhorring it. To suppose, that we may make
CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 2J9
every thing matter of dispute, is to suppose, that we
can account for every thing. Alas ! in most cases,
to feel and believe, is all we have to do, or can do.
Destined for action rather than for knowledge, and
governed more by instinct than by reason, we can
extend our investigations, especially with regard to
ourselves, but a very little way. And, alter all,
when we acquiesce with implicit confidence in the
dictates of our nature, where is the harm or the
danger of such a conduct ? Is our life shortened, or
health injured by it ? No. Are our judgments per
verted, or our hearts corrupted ? No. Is our happi
ness impaired, or the sphere of our gratification con
tracted ? Quite the contrary. Have we less leisure
for attending to the duties of life, and for adorning
our minds with useful and elegant literature ? We
have evidently more time left for those purposes.
Why then so much logic ? so many disputes, and so
many theories, about the first philosophy ? Rather
than in disguising falsehood, and labouring to sub
vert the foundations of truth, why do we not, with
humility and candour, employ our faculties in the
attainment of plain, practical, and useful knowledge ?
The consequences of submit ting every sentiment
and principle to the test of reasoning, have been con
sidered already. This practice has, in every age,
tended much to confound science, to pi event the de
tection of error, and Cinay we not add ?) to debase
the human understanding. For, have we not seen
real genius, under the influence of a disputatious
spirit, derived from nature, fashion, or education,
evaporate in subtlety, sophistry, and vain refinement ?
Lucretius, Cicero, and Des Cartes, might be men
tioned as examples. And it will be matter of last
ing regret in the republic of letters, that a greater
than the greatest of these, I mean John Milton, had
the misfortune to be borne in an age when the study
of scholastic theology was deemed an essential part
of intellectual discipline.
Y
2()0 AN ESSAY QN TRUTH. PART III.
It is either affectation, or false modesty, that makes
men say they know nothing with certainty. Man s
knowledge, indeed, compared with that of superior
beings, may be very inconsiderable ; and compared
with that of The Supreme, is " as nothing and va-
" nity :" and it is true, that we are daily puzzled in
attempting to account for the most familiar appear
ances. But it is true, notwithstanding, that we do
know, and cannot possibly doubt of our knowing,
some things with certainty. And
" Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can,
" These little things are great to little man." *
To be vain of any attainment, is presumption and
folly : but to think every thing disputable, is a proof
of a weak mind and captious temper. And however
sceptics may boast of their modesty, in disclaiming
all pretensions to certain knowledge, I would appeal
to the man of candour, whether they or we seem to
possess least of that virtue ; they, who suppose, that
they can raise insurmountable objections in every
subject ; or we, who believe, that our Maker has
permitted us to know with certainty some few
things ?
In opposition to this practice of making every
thing matter of dispute, we have endeavoured to
show, that the instinctive suggestions of common
sense are the ultimate standard of truth to man ; that
\vhatever contradicts them is contrary to fact, and
therefore false ; that to suppose them cognisable by
reason, is to suppose truth as variable as the intel
lectual, or as the argumentative, abilities of men j
and that it is an abuse of reason, and tends to the
subversion of science, to call in question the authen
ticity of our natural feelings, and of the natural sug
gestions of the human understanding.
* Goldsmith s Traveller,
CHAP. JI. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. i6 l
That science never prospered while the. old logic
continued in fashion, is undeniable. Lord Verulam
was one of the first who brought it into disrepute ;
and proposed a different metho A of investigating truth,,
namely, that the appearances of nature should be care
fully observed, and instead of facts being wrested to
make them fall in with theory, that theory should
be cautiously inferred from facts, and from them only.
The event has fully proved, that our great philoso
pher was in the right : for science has made more
progress since his time, and by his method, than for
a thousand years before. The court of Rome well
knew the importance of the school-logic in support
ing their authority ; they knew it could be employed
more successfully in disguising error, than in vindi
cating truth : and PufFendorff scruples not to affirm,
that they patronised it for this very reason *. Let
it not then be urged, as an objection to this discourse,
that it recommends a method of confutation which is
not strictly logical. It is enough for me, that the
method here recommended is agreeable to good sense
and sound philosophy, and to the general notions and-
practices of men.
CHAP. II.
Tie subject continued. Estimate of Metaphysic*
Causes J the Degeneracy of Moral Science.
HPHE reader has no doubt observed, that I have
* frequently used the term metapbysic, as if it im
plied something worthy of contempt or censure.
That no lover of science may be offended, I shall
now account for this ; by explaining the nature of
that metaphysic which 1 conceive to be repugn ait to
true philosophy, though it has often assumed the
name; and which,, therefore, in my judgment, the
friends of truth ought solicitously to guard against*
* De Monarchia Pontificis Romani, cap. 34v
Y 2
262 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III.
This explanation will lead to some remarks that may
perhaps throw additional light on the present sub
ject.
Aristotle bequeathed by legacy his writings to
Theophrastus ; who left them together with his
own, to Neleus of Scepsis. The posterity of Ne-
leus, being illiterate met), kept them for some time
locked up ; but afterwards hearing, that the king of
the country was making a general search for books
to furnish his library at Pergamus-, they hid them in
a hole underground , where they lay for many years,
and suffered much from worms and dampness, At
last, however, they were sold to one Apeilicon, who
caused them to be copied cut ; and, having (accord-
Ing o btraboj a greater passion for books than for
knowledge, ordered the transcribers to supply the
chasms from their own invention. When Sylla
took Athens, he seized on Apeliicon s library, and
carried it to Rome. Here the books of Aristo
tle were revised, by Tyrannic the grammarian, and
afterwards by Andronicus of Rhodes, a Peripatetic
philosopher, who published the first complete edi
tion of them *. To fourteen of these books, \vhich
it seems had no general title, Andronicus prefixed
the" words, Ta meta ta physica f, that is, the books
posterior* to tie physics ; either because, in the or
der of the former arrangement, they happened to be
placed, or because the editor meant that they should
be studied, next after the physics. This is said to
be the origin of the word l\ietaphysic.
The subject of these fourteen books is mis
cellaneous : yet the Peripatetics seem to have con
sidered them as constituting but one branch of
science ; the place of which in their system may be
thus conceived. All philosophy is either specula
tive or practical. The practical regulates the moral
* Strabo, p. 609. Paris edit. 1620. Plut. Sylla.
j* Ta fJLtroi ra fvma.
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 263
and intellectual operations of men, and therefore
comprehends ethics and logic. The speculative rests
in the knowledge of truth ; and is divided into three
parts, to wit, Physics, which inquire into the na
ture of material substances, and the human soul ;
Mathematics, which consider certain properties of
body as abstracted from body ; and this MetaphyJ
sic, (which Aristotle is said to have called Theolo
gy, and the First Philosophy), which, besides
some remarks on truth in genera], the method of
discovering it, and the errors of former philosc
phers, explains, first, the general properties of be
ing,, and, secondly, the nature of things separate
from matter, namely, of God the one first cause,
and of the forty-seven inferior deities.
Following the notion, that these fourteen books
comprehend only one part of philosophy, the Chris
tian Peripatetics divided metaphysics into universal
and particular. In the first, they treated of being,
and its properties and parts, considered as it is be
ing * j in the second, of God and angels.
The schoolmen disjoined the philosophy of the
human mind from physics, where Aristotle had pla
ced it ; and added it to metaphysics, because its ob--
ject is an immaterial substance. So that their me
taphysics consisted of three parts ; Ontology, in
which they pretended to explain the general proper
ties of being ; Pneumatics, which treated of the
human mind ; and Natural Theology, which treated
of the Supreme Being, and of those spirits which
have either no body at all, or on . so very fine as to-
be imperceptible to human se<;se.
From the account we have given of the manner
in which Aristotle s works were fiist published, the
reader will admit, that some of the errors to be
* Metaphysique universelle a laquelle il est traicte de
1 estant, et des ses pro; -.{"..oz, r des parties ou membrcs
de 1 estant, selon qu il est estant, &c. Bouju,
264 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART Ilf.
found in them may reasonably enough be imputed
to the first transcribers and editors. It was a gross
error in distribution, to reduce God, and the inferior
deities, who were conceived to be a particular spe
cies of beings, to the same class with those qualities
or attributes that are common to all being, and to
treat of both in the same part of philosophy. It
was no less improper than if a physiologist should
compose a treatise, " Of men, horses, and identi
ty." This inaccuracy could not have escaped Aris
totle : it is to be charged on his editors, who pro
bably mistook a series of treatises on various sub
jects for one treatise on one particular subject. To
many this may seem a trifling mistake ; but it has
produced important consequences. It led the earlier
Peripatetics into the impropriety of explaining the
divine existence, and the general properties of be
ing, by the same method of reasoning ; and it indu
ced the schoolmen to confound the important scien
ces of pneumatics and natural theology with the idle
distinctions and logomachies of ontology. Natural
theology ought to consist of legitimate inferences
from the effect to the cause ; pneumatics, or the
philosophy of the human mind, are nothing but a
detail of tacts, illustrated, methodized, and applied
to practice, by obvious and convincing reasonings :
both sciences are founded in experience ; but onto
logy pretends to ascertain its principles by demon
strations a priori. In fact, though ontology were,
what it professes to be, an explication of the gener
al properties of being, it could not throw any light
on Jiatural theology and pneumatics ; for in them the
ontological method of reasoning would be as impro
per as the mathematical. But the systems of ontology
that have come into my hands are little better t>an
vocabularies of those hard words which the school
men had contrived, in order to give an air of mys
tery and importance to their doctrine. While, there
fore, the sciences of Natural Theology and Pneu-
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTIJ. lj
matics were, by this preposterous division, referred
to the same part of philosophy with ontology, how
was it possible they could prosper, or be explained
by their own proper evidence ! In fact, they did not
prosper : experience, their proper evidence, was laid
aside ; and fictitious theory, disguised by ontologi-
cal terms and distinctions, and supported by ontok)-
gical reasoning, was substituted in its stead.
LOCKE was one of the first who rescued the phi
losophy of human nature out of the hands of the
schoolmen, cleared it of the enormous incumbrance
of strange words which they had heaped upon it,
and set the example of ascertaining our internal o-
perations, not by theory, but by experience. His
success was wonderful : for, though he has some
times fallen into the scholastic way of arguing, as in
Iris first book ; and some times suffered himself to
be imposed on by words, as in his account of secon
dary qualities, too rashly adapted from the Carte
sians ; yet has he done more to establish the abstract
sciences on a proper foundation, than could have
been expected from one man who derived almost all
his lights from himself. His successors, Butler and
Hutcheson excepted, have not been very fortunate.
BERKELEY S book, though written with a good de*
sign, did more harm than good, by recommending
and exemplifying a method of argumentation sub
versive of all knowledge, and leading directly to
universal scepticism. Mr HUME S Treatise and
Essays are still more exceptionable. This author
-has revived the scholastic way of reasoning from theo
ry, and of wresting facts to make them coincide
with it. His language is indeed more modish, but
equally favourable to sophistical argument, and e-
quaily proper for giving an air of plausibility and
importance to what is fiivolous or unintelligible.
What regard we are to pay to his profession of ar~
guing from experience has been already considered,.
266 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, PART III.
The word metaphysics, according to the vulgar
use, is applied to all disquisitions concerning things
immaterial : In this sense, the plainest account of
the faculties of the mind, and of the principles of
moral and natural religion, would be termed meta
physics. Such metaphysics, hov\ ever, we are so far
from despising or censuring, that we account it the
sublimest and most useful part of science.
Those arguments also and illustrations in the ab
stract philosophy, which are not obvious to ordina
ry understandings, are sometimes called metaphysi
cal. But as the principles of this philosophy, how
ever well expressed, appear somewhat abstruse to
one who is but a novice in the study ; and as very
plain principles may seem intricate in an author who
is inattentive to his expression, as the best authors
sometimes are, it would be unfair to reject, or con
ceive a prejuvlice against, every doctrine in morals
that is not perfectly free from obscurity. Yet a con
tinued obscurity, in matters whereof every man
should be a competent judge, cannot fail to breed a
suspicion, either that the doctrine is faulty, or that
the writer is not equal to his subject.
The term metaphysical, in those passages of this
book where it is expressive of censure, will be found
to allude to that mode of abbtract investigation, so
common among the modern sceptics and the school
men, which is supported, either wholly by an am
biguous and indefinite phraseology, or bv th,.t in con
junction with a partial experience; and which sel
dom fails to lead to .such conclusions as contradict
matter of fact, or truths of indisputable authority.
It is this nif.-de of iv.veatigatipn that has introduced
so many UT< rs iito the moral sciences ; for few, e-
ven of 01.1 most can .id moral philosophers, are en
tirely free iroin it. The love of system, or partia
lity to a favourite opinion, not only putb a imm off
his guard, so as to -ake him overlook inaccurate
expressions, and indefinite notions, but may some-
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 267
times occasion even a mistake of fact. When such
mistakes are frequent, and affect the most important
truths, we must blame the author for want of can
dour, or want of capacity : when they are innocent,
and recur but seldom, we ought to ascribe them to
the imperfection of human nature.
Instances of this metaphysic are so common, that
we might almost fill a volume with a list of them.
Spinosa s pretended demonstration of the existence
of the one great Being, by which, however, he
meant only the universe, is a metaphysical argu
ment, founded in a series of false or unintelligible,
though plausible, definitions *. BERKELEY S proof
of the non-existence of matter is wholly metaphysi
cal ; and arises chiefly from the mistake of suppo
sing certain words to have but one meaning, whieh
really have two, and sometimes three. The same
author, in a book of sermons, said to have been de
livered at the chapel of Trinity College, Dublin {*,-
has endeavoured to enforce the detestable doctrine of
passive obedience and none-resistance, by metaphy
sical arguments founded on an arbitrary explication
of the term moral duty ; from which he pretends to
prove, that negative moral duties must never, on
any account, be violated ; and that passive obedience
to supreme power, wherever placed, is a negative
moral duty. In this inquiry, he makes no account
of those instinctive sentiments of morality whereof
men are conscious ; ascribing them to the blood and
spirits, or to education and habit ; and asserting,
that the conduct of rational beings is to be directed,
not by them, but by the dictates of sober and inij>ar-
ti^l reason. LOCKE S discourse against innate ideas
and principles, is likewise too metaphysical. Some
* See the Appendix to vol. I. of Chev. Ramsay s Prin
ciples of Religion.
f The third edition of these sermons, which are threa
in number, is printed at London iu the year 1713.
268 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III.
of his notions on that subject are, I believe, right j
but he has not explained them with his wonted pre
cision ; and most of his arguments arc founded on an
ambiguous acceptation of the words idea and j-
nate.
The author of the Falls of the Bees seems to have
carried this mode of reasoning as far as it will go.
If there had been no ambiguous words in the Eng
lish language, the understanding of mankind would
never have been affronted with his system. Many
of our appetites become criminal only when exces
sive ; and we have not always names to express that
degree of indulgence which is consistent with virtue,
The shameless word-catcher takes advrnt:ge of this,
and confounds the innocent gratification \vith the
excessive or criminal indulgence ; calling both bv the
saaie name, and taking it for granted, tbst what he
proves to be true of the one is also true 1 of the other.
What is it that may ;iot be proved by diis way of
arguing ? May not vice be proved to be virtue, and
virtue to be vice ? May not a regard to reputation,
cleanliness, industry, generosity, conjugal love, be
proved to be the same with vanity, luxury, avarice,
profusion, sensuality ? May it not be proved, that
private virtues are private vices ; and, consequently,
that private vices are public benefits ? Such a con-
clu..-;ioii is indeed so easily made out by such logic,
that nothing but ignorance, impudence, and a hard
heart, is necessary to qualify a man for making it.
If it be said, that considerabl " genius must be em
ployed in dressing up these absurd doctrines, sy as
to render them plausible ; I would ask, who are
the persons that think them plausible ? Never did I
hear of one man of virtue or learning, who did not
both detest and despise them. They seem plausible,
perhaps, to gamblers, highwaymen, zndpetit maitres \
but it will not be pretended, that those gentlemen
have leisure, inclination, or capacity, to reflect OH
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 269
what they read or hear, so as to separate truth from
falsehood.
Among metaphysical writers, Mr HUME holds a
distinguished place. Every part of philosophy be
comes raetaphysic in his hands. His whole theory
of the understanding is founded on the doctrine of
impressions and ideas, which, as he explains it, is so
contrary to fact, that nothing but the illusion of
words could make it pass upon any reader. 1 have
already given several instances of this author s me
taphysical spirit. I shall give one more j which I
beg leave to consider at some length ; that I may have
an opportunity of confuting a very dangerous error,
and, at the same time, of displaying more minutely,
than by this general description, the difference be
tween metaphysical and philosophical investigation.
Does any one imagine, that moral, intellectual,
and corporeal virtues, that justice, genius, and bo
dily strength, are virtues of the same kind ; that
they are contemplated with the same sentiments,
and known to be virtues by the same criterion? Few,
I presume, are of this opinion ; but Mr HUME has
adopted it, and taken a great deal of pains to prove
it. I shall demonstrate, that this very important
error has arisen, either from inaccurate observation,
or from his being imposed on by words not well un
derstood, or rather from both causes.
It is true, that justice, great genius, and bodily
strength, are all useful to the possessor and to society ;
and all agreeable to, or (which in this author s style
amounts to the same thingj) approved by every one
who considers or contemplates them. They there
fore, at least the two first, completely answer to our
author s definition of virtue *. And it would be
* It is the nature, and indeed the definition, of virtue,
" that it is a quality of the mind agreeable to, or approved
" by, every one who considers or contemplates it." Hume s
Essays, "Jo/. 2. />. 333. edit. 1767. Note.
Bodily qualities are indeed excluded by this definition,
but admitted by our author in his subsequent reasonings.
270 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III;
easy to write a great book, to show the reasons why
moral, intellectual, and corporeal abilities, yield plea
sure to the beholder and possessor, and to trace out
a number of analogies, real or verbal, subsisting be
tween them. But this is nothing to the purpose :
they may resemble in ten thousand respects, and yet
differ as widely, as a beast or statue differs from a
man. Let us trace the author s argument to its
source.
Virtue is known by a certain agreeable feeling
or sentiment, arising from the consciousness of cer
tain affections or qualities in ourselves, or from the
view of them in others. Granted. Justice, hu
manity, generosity, excite approbation ; a handsome
face excites approbation ; great genius excites ap
probation : the effect or sentiment produced is the
same in each instance : the object, or cause, must
therefore, in each instance, be of the same kind. ;
This is genuine metaphysic : but before a man can
be misled by it, he must either find, on consulting
his experience, that the feeling excited by the con
templation of these objects is the same in each in
stance ; in which case I would say, that his feelings
are defective, or himself an inaccurate observer of
nature : or he must suppose, that the word appro-
luitiotij because written and pronounced the same way,
does really mean the same thing in each of the three
propositions above mentioned, in which case, I would
say, that his judgment and ideas are confounded by
the mere sound and shape of a word. I am con- :
scions, that my approbation of a fine face is different
in kind from my approbation of great genius ; and i
that both are extremely different from my approba
tion of justice, humanity, and generosity : if I call
these three different kinds of approbation by the
sam :- general name, I use that name in three different
significations. Therefore moral, intellectual, and cor-
virtues, are not of the same, but of different .
i j
kinds.
CHAP. II. AN fcSSAY ON TRUTH. 27!
I confess, says our author, that these three virtues
are contemplated with three different kinds of appro
bation. But the same thing is true of different moral
virtues : piety excites one kind of approbation, jus
tice another, and compassion a third ; the virtues of
Cato excite our esteem, those of Cesar our love : if
therefore piety, justice, and compassion, be virtues
of the same kind, notwithstanding that they excite
different kinds of approbation, why should justice,
genius, a"nd beauty, be accounted virtues of different
kinds * ? This is another metaphysical argument 5
an attempt to determine by words what facts only
can determine. I still insist on fact and experience.
My sentiments, in regard to these virtues, are so
diversified, and in each variety so peculiar, that I
know, and am assured that piety, justice, and hu
manity, are distinct individual virtues of the same-
kind ; and that piety, genius, and beauty, are virtues
of different kinds. Applied to each of the former
qualities, the word virtue means the same thing ;
but beauty is virtue in one sense, genius in another,
and piety in a third.
Well, if the sentiments excited in you by the con.
templation of these virtues, are so much diversified,
and in each variety so peculiar, you must be able to
explain in what respect your approbation of intel
lectual, virtue differs from your approbation of moral ;
which I presume you will find no easy task. It is
not so difficult, Sir, as you seem to apprehend.
When a man has acted generously, or justly I praise
him, and think him worthy of praise and reward,
for having done his duty ; when ungenerously or
unjustly, I blame him ; and think him worthy of
blame and punishment ; but a man deserves neither
punishment nor blame for want of beauty or of un
derstanding ; nor reward nor praise for being hand-
* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 3. p. 258, Hume s
fesays, ubi supra.
z
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III.
some or ingenius But why are we thought wor
thy of blame and punishment for being unjust, and
not for being homely, or void of understanding ? The
general conscience of mankind would reply, Because
\ve have it in our power to be just, and ought to be
so ; but an idiot cannot help his want of understand
ing, nor an ugly man his want of beauty. This our
author will not allow to be a satisfactory answer;
because, says he, I have shown that free-will has no
place with regard to the actions, no more than the
qualities of men *. What an immense metaphysical
labyrinth should we have to run through if we were
to disintangle ourselves out of this argument in the
common course of logic ! To shorten the controver
sy, I must beg leave to affirm, in my turn, that our
moral actions are in our own power, though beauty
and genius are not j and to appeal, for proof of this
affirmation, to the second part of this Essay, or, ra
ther, to the common sense of mankind.
Again, " Moral distinctions," says Mr HUME,
** arise from the natural distinctions of pain and
" pleasure ; and when we receive those feelings from,
" the general considerations of any quality or char-
" acter, we denominate it virtuous or vitious. Now
* I believe no one will assert, that a quality can ne-
f ver produce pleasure or pain to the person who con-
<5f siders it, unless it be perfectly voluntary in the
person who possesses it f." More metaphysic !
and a sophism too a petitio principii ! Here our
author endeavours to confound intellectual with mo
ral virtue, by an argument which supposeth his
own theory of virtue to be true ; of which theory
this confusion of the virtues is a necessary conse
quence. The reader must see, that this argument,
if it prove any thing at all, might be made to prove
that the smell or beauty of a rose, the taste of an
apple, the hardness of steel, and the glittering of a
* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 3. p. 260.
* Id ibid.
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY OX TRUTH. 273
diamond, as well as bodily strength and great genius
are all virtues of the same kind with justice, gener
osity, and graticude. Still we wander from the
point. How often must it be repeated, that this
matter is to be determined, not by metaphysical ar
guments founded on ambiguous words, but by facts
and experience !
" Have I not appealed to facts?" he will say,
" Are not all the qualities that constitute the great
" man, constancy, fortitude, magnanimity, as invol-
" untary and necessary, as the qualities of the judg
" ment and imagination ?* The term great man is
so very equivocal, that I will have nothing to do
with it. The vilest scoundrel on earth, if possessed
of a title immediately commences great man, when
he has with impunity perpetrated any extraordina
ry act of wickedness ; murthered fifty thousand
men : robbed all the houses of half a dozen provin
ces ; or dexterously plundered his own country, to
defray the expence of a ruinous war, contrived on
purpose to satiate his avarice, or divert the public
attention from his blunders and villanies. I speak
of the qualities that constitute the good man, that is,
of moral qualities ; and these, I affirm, to be xvith-
in every man s reach, though genius and beauty are
not,
" But are not men afraid of passing for good-na-
** tured, lest that should be taken for want of under-
" standing ? and do they not often boast of more
" debauches than they have been really engaged in,
" to give themselves airs of fire and spirit ?i" Yes
fools do the first, to recommend themselves to fools ;
and profligates the best, to recommend themselves to
profligates : but he is little acquainted with the hu
man heart, who does not perceive, that such senti-
* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 3. p. 259.
Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 3. p, 257^
Z 2
274 A tf ESSAY ON TRUTH. P^RT m.
rnents are affected, and contrary to the way of think
ing that is most natural to mankind *
" But are you not as jealous of your character,
" with regard to sense and knowledge, as to honour
<( and courage ? * This question ought to be ad
dressed to those in ivhom courage is a virtue, and
the want of it a vice : and I am certain, there is not
in his Majesty s service one officer or private man,
who would not wish to be thought rather a valiant
soldier, though of no deep reach, than a very clever
fellow, \vith the addition of an infamous coward.
The term honour is of dubious import. According
to the notions of these times,, a man may blaspheme
God, sell his country, murder his friend, pick the
pocket of his fellow-sharper, and employ his whole
life in seducing others to vice and perdition, and yet
be accounted a man of honour j provided he be ac
customed to speak certain, words, wear certain clothes,
and haunt certain company. If this be the honour
alluded to by the author, an honest man may, for a
very slender consideration, renounce all pretensions
to it. But if he allude (as I rather suppose) to
those qualities of the heart and understanding which
intitle one to general esteem and confidence, Mr
HUME knows, that this kind of honour is- nearer to a
man than life.
" Well, then, temperance is a virtue in every sta-
" tion ; yet would you not chuse to be convicted of
" drunkenness rather than of ignorance ? *" I have
heard ot a witty parson, who, having been dismissed
for regularities, used afterwards, in conversation,
to say, that he thanked God he was not cashiered for.
ignorance and insufficiency, but only for vice and im-
moralitv. According to our author s doctrine, this
speech was neither absurd nor profane : but I am
sure the generality of mankind would be of a different
* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 3. p. 257.
f Ibid.
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 275
opinion. To be ignorant of what we ought to know,
is to be deficient in moral virtue ; to profess to know
what we are ignorant of, is falsehood, a breach of
moral virtue : whether these vices be more or less
atrocious than intemperance, must be determined by
the circumstances of particular cases. To be igno
rant of what we could not know, of what we do not
profess to know, and of what it is not our duty to
know, is no vice at all : and a man must have made
some progress in debauchery, before he can say, from
serious conviction, I would rather be chargeable with
intemperance, than with ignorance of this kind
These, and many of our author s mistakes, must be
imputed to want of knowledge of human nature :
which I suppose is owing to his having confined his
observation chiefly to the outside of what is called
fashionable life, where the sentiments publicly a-
vowed are often different from what is inwardly
felt, and extremely different from the truth and sim
plicity of nature.
It appears, then, that our author s reasoning on
the present subject, is not philosophical, but what I .
call metaphysical * ; being founded, not on fact, but
on theory, and supported by ambiguous words and
inaccurate experience.
The judgment of the wiser ancients in matters of
morality, is doubtless of very great weight, but, in
opposition to our own experience, can never prepon
derate : because this is our ultimate standard of
truth. Mr HUME endeavours to confirm his theory
of virtue by authorities from the ancients, particular
ly the Stoics and Peripatetics. Though he had ac
complished this, we might have appealed from their
* I do not contend, that tills use of the word metaphysi
cal is strictly proper : I mean nothing more, than to give
the reader a notion of this particular mode of false reason
ing : and, by satisfying him that it is not philosophical^ to
guard him against its influence.
3
275 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III.
opinion, as well as from his, to our own feelings.
But he fails in this, as in the other parts of his proof.
It is true, the Peripatetics and Stoics made Pru
dence the first (not the most important) of the car
dinal virtues ; because they conceived it necessary
to enable a man to act his part aright in life, and be
cause they thought it their duty to take every op
portunity of improving their nature : but they never
said, that an incurable defect of understanding is a
vice, or that it is as much our duty to be learned and
ingenious, as to be honest and grateful. " All the
* praise of virtue consists in action," says Cicero *,
in name of the Stoics, when treating of this virtue
of prudence. And, when explaining the comparative
merit of the several classes of moral duty, he declares,
that " All knowledge which is not followed by ac-
* tion, is unprofitable and imperfect, like a begin-
" ning without an end, or a foundation without a
61 superstructure ; and that the acquisition of the
* most sublime and most important science ought to
" be, and will by every good man be relinquished,
* when it interferes with the duties we owe our
" country, our parents, and society f." Wisdom,
indeed, he allows to be the first and most excellent
of the virtues : but it is well known, that the Stoics
:.nade a distinction between Prudence and Wisdom.
By prudence they meant that virtue which regulates
our desires and aversions, and fixes them on proper
objects. Wisdom was another name for mental per
fection : it comprehended all the virtues, the religi
ous as well as the social and prudential ; and
was equally incompatible with vice and with error f.
The wise man, the standard of Stoicd excellence,
was, by their own acknowledgement, an ideal c.ia-
racter ; the purest virtue attainable in this life being
necessarily tainted with imperfection. Hence some
* De officiis, lib. 1, cap. 6. f Id. lib. 1. cap. 43, 44.
Id, ib.
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 277"
have endeavoured to turn their notions of wisdom
into ridicule ; but 1 think, without reason. For is
there any thing absurd or ridiculous in an artist
working after a model of such perfection as he can
never hope to equal ? In the judgment of Aristotle
and Bacon, the true poet forms his imitations of na*
ture after a model of ideal perfection, which perhaps
hath no existence but in his own mind *... And are
not Christians commanded to imitate the Deity hiir^
self, that great original and standard of perfection,
between whom and the- most excellent of his crea
tures an infinite distance must remain for ever f ?
" The ancient moralists," says Mr Hume, "made
" no material distinction among the different species
" of mental endowments and defects J." To every
person who has read them, the contrary is well
known. I might here fill many a page with quota
tions, but a few will suffice : " Man s virtue and
" vice," says Marcus Aurdius, "consists not in
" those affections in which we are passive, but in ac-
" tion. To a stone thrown upward, it is no evil to
" fall, nor good to have mounted $." And in ano
ther place, " The vain-glorious man placeth his good
** in the action of another ; the sensual, in his own
passive feelings j the wise man,, in his own action ||."
* Aristot. Poetica. Bacon, De augmentis scientarium,
lib. 2.
f Matth. v. 48.
J Hume s Essays, vol. 2. p. 3S7, 388.
Qvll y] aiTV K KOLxioi an TV tv Tr uau o.x>.oc
Lib. ix. c. IX
|| O* fjilv <piholc%oc $&rff& iv fytixv (/iov ayct.$ov v-
7TO\OL/!/.fi3.Vir Oi f /X/ jOOFOC toMl TliiTiy 06 YOVY, t%W,
tliav cr^a^/r.
Lib. 6. c. 51,
278 AM ESSAY 0!N* TRUTH. PART III.
" The contemplative life," says Plutarch, " when it
** fails to produce the active, is unprofitable *." "To
** acquire knowledge," says Lucian, " is of no use, if
" we do not also frame our lives according to some-
** thing better f." It is remarkable that the Greek
tragedians (I know not by what authority, for Ho
mer s idea is very different^) represent Ulysses as a
character more distinguished for political prudence
or cunning, than for strict moral virtue ; and often
place him in such attitudes as make him appear o-
dious on this very account ^. And Cicero in his
* O* li SvATixaf C/0f TV
Plutarch, de Educatione.
j" Oully o<pA0 fiY fzcrtfd^oit Toi jua.&; t uoc.Ta f u ( UY) rif
KfX TOY flO&fpQftffyt 7TpO{ TO t\T/GV.
Lucian. Conviv.
^ See particularly Sophocles. Philoct. vers. 100. and
vers. 1260. I beg leave to quote a few very remarkable
lines. Neoptolemus having, by the advice of Ulysses,
fraudulently got possession of the arrows of Philoctetes,
repents of what he had done, and is going to restore them.
To deter him from his purpose, Ulysses threatens him with
the resentment of tlie whole Grecian army.
Neot>. 20!p<k TrtyvKbs cvliv i^o
\ v "
U/VS. 2^ OVTi <pd)X/V , OVTl
Neop. A\\ it $nidiec, ruv coyuv xpii
U/ys. Ka/ TTCJC QIKOUQV, a y eAaCtf
TCLVTOL ; Neop.
a** / r^
<pok>,i TrqaLvvw race ;
U/ys. "^TPOCTOV
Neofi. SuV rw X/idfiS TOY yov ov rapCw <poo
oy.
Krs. 1279.
. Necp* Wise as thou art, Ulysses,
Thou talkest most idly. U/ys. Wisdom is not thine,
Either in word or deed. Neop. Know, to be Just
If better far than to be wise, Ufys. But where ?
CHAP. II. ESSAY ON TRUTH.
Treatise of moral duties, often declares, that cunning,
when it violates the rules of justice, is criminal and
detestable. Does Virgil consign cripples and idiots,
as well .s tyrants, to Tartarus ? does he say, that a-
great memory and handsome face r as well as a pure-
heart, were the passports to Elysium ? No : Virgil
was too good a man to injure the cause of virtue, and
too wise to shock common sense by so preposterous
a distribution of reward and punishment. The im
pious, the unnatural, the fraudulent, the avaricious :
adulterers, incestuous persons, traitors, corrupt judg
es, venal statesmen, tyrants, and the minions of ty
rants, are those whom he dooms to eternal misery ;
and he peoples Elysium with the shades of the pure
and the pious, of "heroes who have died in defence of
their country, of ingenious men who have employed,
their talents in recommending piety and virtue, and
of all who by acts of beneficence have merited the
love and. gratitude of their fellow-creatures *..
Where is the justice, thus unauthorised,
To give a treasure back thou owest to me,
And to my counsels ? Ncop. I have done a wrong,
And 1 will try to make atonement for it.
Ufys. Dost thou not fear the power of Greece ? Ntop. I fear<
Nor Greece, nor th.ee, when 1 am doing right.
Frank/in.
Throughout the whole play, the fire and generosity of
the young hero (so well-becoming the son of Achilles) is
finely opposed to the caution and craft of the politician, and
forms one of the most striking contrasts that can well be
imagined.
* Virgil, ^.neid vi. 547665. As the moral senti
ments of nations may often be learned from their fabler
and traditions, as well as from their history and philoso*
phy, it will not perhaps be deemed foreign from our design,
to give the following brief abstract of this poet s sublime
theory of future rewards and punishments -, the outlines cf
which, he is known to h3,ve taken from the Pythagoreans
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. FART III.
The Peripatetics held prudence to be an active
principle, diffused through the whole of moral vir-
and Platonists, who probably were indebted for them to
some ancient tradition.
The shades below are divided by Virgil into three dis
tricts or provinces. On this side Styx, the souls of those
whose bodies have not been honoured with the rites of se
pulture, wander about in a melancholy condition for a
hundred years, before they are permitted to pass the river.
When this period expires, or when their- bodies are buried,
they are ferried over, and appear before Minos and the o-
ther judges, who allot them such a mansion as their lives
en earth are found to have deserved. They, who have
Been of little, or no use to mankind, or who have not been
guilty of any very atrocious crimes j or whose crimes,
though atrocious, were the effects rather of an unhappy
destiny, than of wilful depravation, are disposed of in dif
ferent parts of the regions of mourning, (lugentes campi),
where they undergo a variety of purifying pains. From
thence, when thoroughly refined from all the remains of
vice, they pass into Elysium,, where they live a thousand
years in a state of happiness ; and then, after taking a
draught of the waters of oblivion, are sent back to earth
to animate new bodies. Those who have been guilty of
great crimes, as impiety, want of natural affection, adulte
ry, incest, breach of trust, subverting the liberties of their
country, &c. are delivered by the judge Rhadamanthus to
Tisiphone and the other furies, who shut them up in an
immense dungeon of darkness and fire, called Tartarus,
where their torments are unspeakable and eternal. The
souls of good men are re-united, either with the Deity him
self, or with that universal spirit which he created in the
beginning, and which animates the world *, and their
shades, ghosts, or idola, enjoy for ever the repose and plea
sure- of Elysium. These s-hades might be seen, though
not touched ; they resembled the bodies with which they
tad formerly been invested 5 and retained a consciousness
of their identity, and a remembrance of their past life, with
almost the same affections and character that had distin
guished them, on earth.
CHAP, II. AN 1 ESSAY ON TRUTH.
tue *." " None but a good man," says Aristotle,
" can be prudent j" and a little after, ** It is not pos-
* sible for a man to be properly good without pru-
" dence, nor prudent without moral virtue f." Will
On this system, Virgil has founded a series of the su-
blimest descriptions that are to be met with in poetry.
Milton alone has equalled them in the first and second
books of Paradise Lost. Homer s Necyomanteia, in the
eleventh of the Odyssey, has the merit of being original j
but Virgil s imitation is confessedly far superior. The
dream of Henry, in the seventh canto of the Henriade, not
withstanding the advantages that the author might have
drawn from the Christian theology, is but a trifle, compar
ed with the magnificent and stupendous scenery exhibited
in the sixth book of the ./Eneid.
This theory of future rewards ar.d punishments, however
imperfect, is consonant enough with the hopes and fears of
men, and their natural notions of virtue and vice, to ren
der the poet s narrative alarming and interesting in a very
high degree. But were an author to adopt Mr Hume s
theory of virtue and the soul, and endeavour to set it off
in a poetical description, all the powers of human genius,
could not save it from being ridiculous. A metaphysician
may " blunder" for a long time, " round about a mean-
" ing," without giving any violent shock to an inattentive
reader : but a poet v;ho clothes his thoughts with image
ry, and illustrates them by examples, must come to the
point at once j and, if he means to please, and not disgust
his readers, to move their admiration, and not their con
tempt, must be careful not to contradict their natural no
tions, especially in matters of such deep and universal con
cern as morality and religion.
5 AWyxn TW Qfotww t%ty uv&i 7Tfaxr;>t;V.
Ethic, ad Nicom. vi. 5.
"j* A&uVaTOK $povi{A.w urai prj OVTOL aya^cx.
Id. vi. 13,
See the elegant paraphrase of Andronicus the
upon these passages.
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. -FART III,
it yet be said, that the ancient moralists made no ma
terial distinction between moral and intellectual vir
tues ? Is it not evident, that though they considered
both as necessary to the formation of a perfect char
acter, and sometimes discoursed of both in the same
treatise or system, yet they deemed the latter valu
able only as means to qualify us for the former, and
insignificant, or even odious, when they failed to an
swer this end ?
" We may," says Mr Hume, " by perusing the
* titles of the chapters in Aristotle s Ethics, be con-
" vinced, that he ranks courage, temperance, magni-
* licence, magnanimity, modesty, prudence, and a
" manly freedom among the virtues, as well as jus-
41 tice and friendship *." True ; but if our learned
metaphysician had extended his researches a little
.beyond the titles of those chapters, he would have
found, that, in Aristotle s judgment, " Moral virtue
" is a voluntary disposition or habit ; and that mo-
" ral approbation or disapprobation are excited by
* those actions and affections only which are in our
*.* own power ; that is, of which the first motion a-
" rises in ourselves, and proceeds from no extrinsic
" cause f."
This is true philosophy : it is accurate, perspicu
ous, and just, and very properly determines the de
gree of merit of our intellectual and constitutional
virtues, A man makes proficiency in knowledge ;
* Hume s Essays, vol. 2. p. 388. The term manly
freedom does not express the meaning of the Greek. \KV&I-
fw\y\S* Mr Hume was perhaps misled by the etymology :
but he ought to have known, that by this word the phi
losopher denotes that virtue which consists in the moderate
use of wealth . ff\fi Af^aotTa ptwoTnt. See Ethic, ad
Kicom. lib. 4. cap. 1,2.
f Etnic. ad Nicom. iii. 1. ii. 6. Mag. Mor. i. 15.
Andronicus Rhodius, p. 89, 90, 188. edit. Cantab. 1679.
Stephanus, in voce ^
ir. AN ESSAY ON "TRUTH.
if in this he has acted from a desire to improve his
nature, and qualify himself for moral virtue, that
desire, and the action consequent upon it, are virtu
ous, laudable and of good desert. Is a man possessed of
great genius? this invests him with dignity and di
stinction, and qualifies him for noble undertakings :
but this of itself is no moral virtue; because it is
not a disposition resulting from a spontaneous effort.
Is his constitution naturally disposed to virtue ? he
still has it in his power to be vitious, and therefore
his virtue is truly meritorious 5 though not so high
ly as that of another man, who, in spite of outrage
ous appetites, and tempting circumstances, hath at
tained an equal degree of moral improvement. A man
constitutionally brave, generous, or grateful, com
mands our admiration more than another, who strug
gles to overcome the natural baseness of his temper.
The former is a sublimer object, and may be of great
er service to society ; and as his virtue is secured
by constitution as well as by inclination, we repose
in it without fear of being disappointed. Yet per
haps the latter, if his merit were equally conspicu
ous, would be found equally worthy of our moral
approbation. Indeed, if his virtue be so irresolute
as to leave him wavering between good and evil, he
is not entitled to praise : such irresolution is crimi
nal, because he may, and ought to correct it; we
can not, and we ought not to trust him, till we see a
strong prepossession established in favour of virtue.
However, let us love virtue wherever we find it :
whether the immediate gift of heaven, or the effect
of human industry co-operating with divine influence,
it always deserves our esteem and veneration.
The reader may now form an estimate at that au
thor s attention, who says, that " the ancient moral-
" ists made no material distinction among the diff?r-
" ent species of mental endowments and defects.* If
any one is disposed to think, that I have made out
my point rather by inference than by direct proof, I
A a
284 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. TART III.
submit to his consideration the following passages,
which are too plain to need a commentary.
.Having proposed a general distribution of our men-
tal powers, (which seems to amount to this, that
some of them fit us for knowledge, and others for ac
tion) Aristotle proceeds in this manner. " Accord-
" ing to this distribution, virtue is also divided into
" intellectual and moral. Of the former kind are
" wisdom intelligence, and prudence ; of the latter,
" temperance and frugal liberality. "When we speak
" of morals, we do not say, that a man is wise or
" intelligent, but that he is gentle or temperate. Yet
* we praise a wise man in respect of his dispositions
" [or habits] ; for laudable dispositions are what we
" call virtues *."
" The virtues of the soul," says Cicero, " and
" of its principal part the understanding, are various,
" but may be reduced to two kinds. The first are
" those which nature has implanted, and which are
* called not voluntary. The second kind are more
** properly called virtues, because they depend on the
" will ; and these, as objects of approbation, are
" transcendently superior. Of the former kind are
" docility, memory, and all the virtues distinguished
" by the general name of genius, or capacity : per-
" sons possessed of them are called ingenuous. The
" latter class comprehends the great and genuine <uir-
" tues, which we denominate voluntary, as prudence,
/era; ll KOLI Y} OL^TYI Kara TYIV X/apofax. TO.UTVY.
OL^ auTuv T&i fj.lv d/a^o^r/x^c, ra; ll r
JS.lv, XOU (7VVt!7lV, X.CCI q^WlV, llOLYOnTtX.O(.C
oe xa; GtotyfOffvvviv, ^9/Kaf. XeyoKrec yap
v teyo^iv crt votpw, \i VVVITO/;, axx OTI
l KXI TOY <TO<OY TY.V tlY TUV
Ethic, ad Nicom. lib. 1. sub. Jin.
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 285
" temperance, fortitude, justice, and others of the
same kind *."
The word virtue has indeed great latitude of sig-
nification. It denotes any quality of a thing tending
to the happiness of a percipient being ; it denotes
that quality, or perfection of qualities, by which a
thing is fitted to answer its end ; sometimes it de
notes power or agency in general ; and sometimes
any habit which improves the faculties of the human
rnind. In the first three senses we ascribe virtue to
the soul, and to the body, to brutes, and inanimate
things ; in the last, to our intellectual as well as
moral nature. And no doubt instances may be found
cf ambiguity and want of precision, even in the best
moralists, from an improper use of this word. Yet
I believe this attempt of Mr HUME S is the first
that has been made to prove, that among these very
different sorts of virtue there is little or no difference.
Our author seems indeed to have a singular aversion
to that kind of curiosity, which, not satisfied with
knowing the names, is industrious to discover the
natures of things. When he finds two or three dif
ferent things called by the same name, he will rather
%v rite fifty pages of metaphysic to prove that they are
the same, than give himself the trouble to examine
* Animi autem, et eius animi partis quse prmceps est,
quceque mens nominatur, plures simt virtutes, sed duo primn
genera : unum earum quae ingenerantur suapte natura, ap-
pellanturquc non voluntariae : alterum autem earum, quce
in voluntate positae, magis proprie eo nomine appellari so-
lent j quarumestexcellensinanimorumlaudeprciestantia. Pri-
oris generis est docilitas, memoria , qualia fere omnia ap-
pellantur uno ingenii nomine j casque virtutes qui habent
ingeniosi vocantur. Alterum autem genus est magnaruw
verarumque -virtutiim, quas appellamus voluntaries, ut pru-
dentiam, temperantiam, fcrtitndinem, justitiam, et reliquas
ejusdeni generis. Virtutes voluntaries proprie virtutes
appellantur, multumquc excellunt, &c.
Cicera De Finibus, lib. 5. caj>. i3. ex editions Davisii.
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III.
them so as to see what they really are *. Is it not
strange, that a man of science should ever have taken
it in his head, that the chacteristic of a genus is a
sufficient description of a species ? He might as well
have supposed, that because perception and self-mo
tion belong to animal life in general, it is therefore
a sufficient definition of man, to call him a self-mov
ing and percipient creature : from which profound
principle it clearly follows, that man is a beast, and
that a beast is a man.
By such reasoning as Mr HUME has used on the
present occasion, it would be easy to prove any doc
trine. The method is this : and I hope those who
may hereafter chuse to astonish the world with a
system of metaphysical paradoxes, will do me the
honour and the justice to acknowledge, that I was
the first who unfolded the whale art and mystery of
that branch of manufacture within the compass of
one short RECIPE : Take a word (an abstract term
is the most convenient) which admits of more than
one signification ; and by the help of a predicate and
copula, form a proposition, suitable to your system,
or to your humour, or to any other thing you please,
except truth. When laying down your premises,
you are to use the name of the quality or subject, in
one sense ; and, when inferring your conclusion, in
another. You are then to urge a few equivocal
facts, very slightly examined, (the more slightly the
betteO, as a further proof of the said conclusion ;
and to shut up all with citing some ancient authori
ties, either real or licfitious, as may best suit your
purpose. A few occasional strictures on religion as
an U lphilosophical -thing, and a sneer at the Whole
Duty of Man f, or any other good book, will give
your Dissertation what many are pleased to call a
"liberal turn ; and will go near to convince the world,
* Se?, anotuer remarkable instance, Part 2. chap. 2.
ect. 1. of tins Essay.
-If t See Hume s Essays, vol. 2. p. 338. edit. 1767.
GHAF. II. AN ESS AT ON TRtftlf. 2y
that you are a candid philosopher, a manly free
thinker, and a very. fine writer .
It is to no purpose that our author calls this a-
verbal dispute, and sometimes condescends to soften
matters by an almost, or some such evasive word.
His doctrine obviously tends to confound all our
ideas of virtue and duty, and to make us consider
ourselves as mere machines, acted upon by external
and irresistible impulse, and not more accountable
for moral blemishes, than for ignorance, want of un
derstanding, poverty, deformity, and disease. If the
reader think as seriously of the controversy as I do,
he will pardon the length of this digression.
I hope it now appears, that there is a kind of me*
taphysic, which, whatever respectable names it may
have assumed, deserves contempt or censure from
every lover of truth. If it be detrimental to science,
it is equally so to the affairs of life. Whenever one
enters on business, the metaphysical spirit must be
laid aside, otherwise it will render him ridiculous,
perhaps detestable. Sure it will not be said, that
any portion of this spirit is necessary to form a man
for stations of high importance. For these, a turn
to metaphysic would be as effectual a disqualifi
cation as want of understanding. The metaphy
sician is cold, wavering, distrustful, and perpetually
ruminates on words, distinctions, arguments and sys
tems. He attends to the events of life with a view
chiefly to the system that happens for the time to
predominate in his imagination, and to which he is*
anxious to reconcile every appearance. His obser
vation is therefore partial and inaccurate, because,
he contemplates nature through the medium of his
favourite theory, which is always false; so that, ex
perience, which enlarges, ascertains, and methodises,
the knowledge of other men, serves only to heighten
the natural darkness and contusion of his. His li~
terary studies are conducted with the same spirit,,
and produce the same effects Whereas, to the ad-
A a 3
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART 1IJ.
ministration of great affairs, truth and steadiness of
principle, constancy of mind, intuitive sagacity, ex
treme quickness in apprehending the present and an
ticipating the future, are indispensably necessary.
Whatever tends to weaken and unsettle the mind, to
cramp the imagination, to fix the attention on minute
and trifling objects, and withdraw it from those en
larged prospects of nature and mankind, in which
true genius loves to expatiate ; whatever has this ten
dency, and surely metaphysic has it, is the bane of
genius, and of every thing that is great in human
nature.
In the lower walks of life, our theorist will be
oftener the object of ridicule than of detestation.
Yet even here, the man is to be pitied, who, in mat
ters of moment, happens to be connected with a
stanch metaphysician. Doubts, disputes, and con
jectures, will be the plague of his life. If his as
sociate form a system of action or inaction, of doubt
or confidence, he will stick by it, however absurd,
as long as he has one verbal argument unanswered to
urge in defence of it. In accounting for the conduct
of others, he will reject obvious causes, and set him
self to explore such as are more remote and refined.
Making no proper allowance for the endless variety
of human character, he will suppose all men influen
ced, like himself, by system and verbal argument :
certain causes, in his judgment, must of necessity pro
duce certain effects ; for he has twenty reasons ready
to offer, by which it is demonstrable, that they can
not fail : and it is well, if experience, at last con
vince him, that there was a small verbal ambiguity
in his principles, and that his views of mankind were
not quite so extensive as they ought to have been.
In a word, unless he be very good-natured, and of a
passive disposition, his refinements will do more
harm than even the stiff stupidity of un idiot. If
inclined to fraud, or ai.y sort of vce, he will i:ever
be at a iojS for an evasion j which, if it should not
CAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 289
satisfy his associate will perplex and plague him
most effectually. 1 need not enlarge ; the reader may
conceive the rest. To aid his fancy, he will find
some traits of this character, in one of its most a-
musing and least disagreeable forms, delineated with
a masterly pencil in the person, of Walter Shandy,
Esquire.
It, is. astonishing to consider, how little mankind
value the good within their reach, and how ardently
they pursue what nature has placed beyond it ; how
blindly they over-rate what they have no experience
of, and how fondly they admire what they do not
understand This verbal rnetaphysic has been digni-
iied with the name of science, and verbal metaphy
sicians have been reputed philosophers, and men of
genius. Doubtless a man of genius may, by the
fashion of the times, be seduced into these studies :
but that particular cast of mind which fits a man for
them^and recommends them to his choice, is not ge
nius, but a minute and feeble understanding ; capable
indeed of being made, by long practice, expert in the
management of words ; but which never did, and ne
ver will, qualify any man for the discovery or illus*
tration of sentiment. For what is genius? What,"
but sound judgment, sensibility of heart, and a talent
for accurate and extensive observation ? And will
sound judgment prepare a man for being imposed on
by words? will sensibility of heart Tender him in
sensible to his own feelings and inattentive to those
of other men ? will a talent for accurate and extensive
observation, make him ignorant of the real pheno
mena of nature, and consequently, incapable of de
tecting what is false or equivocal in the representa
tion of facts ? And yet, when facts are fairly and
itilly represented; when human sentiments are strong-,
ly felt, and perspicuously described ; and when the
meanin^ of words is ascertained, and the same word
has always the same idea annexed to it, . there is
an end of inetaphysic.
290 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III.
A body is neither vigorous nor beautiful, in which
the size of some members is above, and that of oth
ers below, their due proportion : every part must
have its proper size and strength, otherwise the re
sult of the whole will be deformity and weakness.
Neither is real genius consistent with a dispropor
tionate strength of the reasoning powers above those
of taste and imagination. Those minds in whom all
the faculties are united in their due proportion, are
far superior to the puerilities of metaphysical scepti
cism. They trust to their own feelings, which are
strong and decisive, and leave no room for hesitation
or doubts about their authenticity. They see
through moral subjects at one glance ; and what
they say, carries both the heart and the understand
ing along with it. When one has long drudged in
the dull and unprofitable pages of metaphysic, how
pleasing the transition to a moral writer of true ge
nius ! Would you know what that genius is, and
where it may be found ? Go to Shakespeare, to Ba
con, to Johnson^ to Montesquieu, to Rosseau * ; and
* As several persons, highly respectable both for their
talents and principles, have desired to know my reasons for
joining Rousseau s name to those of Bacon, Shakespeare,
Johnson, and Montesquieu, I beg leave to take this oppor
tunity of explaining_ my sentiments in regard to that cele
brated author.
It is because I consider Rousseau as a moral writer cf
true genius, that I mention his name in this place. Sensi
bility of heart 7 a talent for extensive and accurate obser
vation 5 liveliness and ardour of fancy j and a style copious,
nervous, and elegant, beyond that of any other French wri
ter, are his distinguishing characteristics. In argument
he is not always equally successful, fof lie often mistakes
declamation for proof, and hypothesis for fact j but his
eloquence, when addressed to the heart, over-powers with
force irresistable. A greater number of important facts
relating to the human mind are recorded in his works than
in all the books of all the sceptical philosophers ancient
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 2C}I
Avhen you have studied them, return, if you can, to
HUME, and HOBBES, and^MALEBRANCHE, and LEIB
NITZ, and SPINOSA. If, while you learned wisdom
from the former, your heart exulted within you,
and modem. And he appears in general to be a friend "to
virtue, to mankind, to natural religion, and sometimes to
Christianity.
Yet none even of his best works are free from absurdi
ty. His reasoning, on the effects of the sciences, and on
the origin and progress of human society, are diffuse, inac
curate, and often weak ; much perverted by theo ries of
his own, as well as by too implicit an admittance of the
vague assertions of travellers,, and of the systems and doc
trines of some favourite French philosophers : and he
seems, in these, and frequently too in his other writings, to
consider animal pleasure arid bodily accomplishments as
the happiness and perfection of man. His plan of educa
tion, though admirable in many parts, ais in some injudi
cious and dangerous, and impracticable as a whole. The
character of Julia s Lover is drawn with a masterly hand
indeed, and well conducted throughout 5 but the lady has
two characters, and those incompatible ; the Wife of
Weimar is quite a different person from the mistress of St
Preux. Wolmar himself is an impossible character ; des
titute of p T.iciple, yet of ri^:d yjrtr.e j destitute of feeling,
yet capable: of tenderness and attachment \ delicate in his
notions of honour, yet not ashamed to marry a woman
whom he knew to be to all intents and purposes devoted to
another.
Some of this anther s remarks on the spirit of Chris
tianity, and on the character of its .Divine Founder, are
not only excellent, but transcendency so, and 1 believe
no Christian ever read them without feeling his heart v* ar
med, and his faith confirmed. But what he says of the
absurdities which he fancies to be contained in the sacred
history, of the impropriety of the evidence of miracles,
of the analogy between those of Jesus Christ and the
tiicks of jugglers,---of .he insignificancy and impertinence
of prayer, of the sufficiency of human reason for discov
ering a complete and comfortable scheme of natural reli-
ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III.
and rejoiced to contemplate the sublime and success
ful efforts of human intellect ; perhaps it may now
be of use, as a lesson of humility, to have recourse to
the latter, and, for a while, to behold the picture of
gion, of the discouraging nature of the terms of salvation
offered in the Gospel, of the measure of evidence that
ought to accompany divine revelation (which, as he states
it, would be incompatible with man s free agency and moral
probation) what he says of these, and of several other
theological points of great importance, betrays a degree of
ignorance and prejudice, of which, as a philosopher, as a
scholar, and as a man, he should have been utterly asham
ed. He appears to be distressed with his doubts ; and yet,
without having ever examined whether they be well or ill-
founded, scruples not to exert all his eloquence on purpose
to infuse them into others : a conduct, which I must e-
ver condemn as illiberal,* unjust, and cruel. Had Rousseau
studied the scripture, and the writings of rational divines,
with as much care as he seems to have employed in read
ing the books, and listening to the conversation of French
infidels, and in attending to the unchristian practices and
doctrines warranted by some ecclesiastical establishments j
I may venture to assure him, that his mind would have
been much more at ease, his works much more valuable,
and his memory much dearer to all good men.
Rousseau is, in my opinion, a great philosophical genius,,
but wild, irregular, and often self-contradictory 5 disposed,
from the fashion of the times, and from his desire of being
reputed a bold speaker and freethinker, to adopt the doc
trines of infidelity j but of a heart too tender, and an ima
gination too lively, to permit him to become a thorough
paced i:ifideJ. Had he lived in an age less addicted to
hypothesis, he might have distinguished himself as a mo
ral philosopher of the first rank. What pity, that a pro
per sense of his superiority to his contemporaries upon the
continent could not preserve him from the contagion of
their example ! For, though now it is the fashion for eve
ry French declaimer to talk of Bacon and Newton, I
question, whether in any age since the days of Socrates the
building of fanciful theories was so epidemical as in the
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH $93
a soul wandering from thought to thought, without
knowing where to fix ; and from a total want of feel
ing, or a total ignorance of what it feels, mistaking
names for things, verbal distinctions and analogies
for real difference and similitude, and the obscure in
sinuations of a bewildered understanding, puzzled
with words, and perverted with theory, for the sen
timents of nature, and the dictates of reason. A
metaphysician, exploring the recesses of the human
heart has just such a chance for finding the truth, as
a man with microscope eyes would have for finding
the road. The latter might amuse himself with
contemplating the various mineral strata that are
diffused along the expansion of a needle s point; but
of the face of nature he could make nothing ; he
would start back with horror from the caverns yaw
ning between the mountainous grains of sand that lie
before him ; but the real gulf or mountain he could
not see at all.
present. If the men of learning formerly employed their
ingenuity in. defending the theories of that philosopher by
whose name they were ambitious to be distinguished j they
are now no less industrious in devising and vindicating,
each man a theory of his own.
To conclude : the writings of this author, with all their
imperfections, may be read by the philosopher with advantage
as they often direct to the right observation and interpreta
tion of nature ; and by the Christian without detriment, as
the cavils they contain against religion are too slight and
too paradoxical to weaken the faith of any one who is tol
erably instructed in the principles and evidence of Chris
tianity. To the man of taste they can never fail to re
commend themselves, by the irresistible charms of the
composition.
The improprieties in Rousseau s late conduct appear to
me to have arisen rather from bcdily infirmity than from
moral depravation, and consequently to render him an ob
ject of forbearance and pity, rather than of persecution or
ridicule.
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART TIT.
Is the futility of metaphysical systems exaggerat
ed beyond the truth by this allusion ? Tell me,
then, in which of those systems I shall find such a
description of the soul of man as would enable me to
know what it is. A great and excellent author ob
serves, that if all human things were to perish ex
cept the works of Shakespeare, it might still be
known from them what sort of creature man was * :
A sentiment nobly imagined, and as just as it is
sublime ! Can the same thing be said with truth of
any one, or of all the metaphysical treatises that have
been written on the nature of man ? If any inhabi
tant of another planet were to read The Trea
tise of Human Nature^ what notions of human na
ture could he gather from it ? That man must be
lieve one thing by instinct^ and must also believe the
contrary by reason : That the universe is nothing
but a heap of perceptions unperceived by any sub
stance : That this universe, for any thing man knows
to the contrary, might have made himself, that is,
existed before it existed ; as we have no reason to
believe that it proceeded from any cause, notwith
standing it may have had a beginning : That though
a man could bring himself to believe, yea, and have
reason to believe, that every thing in the universe
proceeds from some cause, yet it would be unreason
able for him to believe, that the universe itself pro-
ceeds from a cause : That the soul of man is not
the same this moment it was the last ; that w T e know
not what it is ; that it is not one, but many things ;
and that it is nothing at all ; and yet, that in this
soul is the agency of all. the causes that operate
throughout the sensible creation ; and yet, that in
this soul there is neither power nor agency, nor any
idea of either: That if thieves, cheats, and cut-
throa .s, deserve to be hanged, criuples, idiots, and
diseased person-, shouV not be permitted to live ;
* Lord Lytt .ti.oi/_ : . gues of the Dead.
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 295
because the imperfections of the latter, and the faults
of the former, are on the very same footing, both
being disapproved by those who contemplate them :
That the perfection of human knowledge is to
doubt : That man ought to believe nothing, and yet
that man s belief ought to be influenced and deter
mined by certain principles : That we ought to
doubt of every thing, yea of our doubts themselves ;
and therefore the utmost that philosophy can do, is
to give a doubtful solution of doubtful doubts * :-
That nature continually imposes on us, and continual
ly counteracts herself, by giving us sagacity to de
tect the imposture : That we are necessarily an
unavoidably determined to act and think in certain
cases after a certain manner, but that we ought not
to submit to this unavoidable necessity ; and that
they are fools who do so ; That man, in all his per
ceptions, actions, and volitions, is a mere passive ma
chine, and has no separate existence of his own, being
entirely made up of other things, of the existence of
which, however, he is by no means certain ; and yet,
that the nature of all things depends so much upon
man, that two and two could not be equal to four,
nor fire produce heat, nor the sun light, without an
express act of the human understanding :- .That none
of our actions are in our power ; that we ought to
exercise power over our actions ; and that there is
no such thing as power : That body and motion
may be regarded as the cause of thought ; and that
body does not exist : That the universe exists in
the mind ; and that the mind does not exist : That
the human understanding, acting alone, does entirely
subvert itself, and prove by argument, that by argu
ment nothing can be proved : These are a few of
* Strange as this expression may seem, it is not with
out a precedent. The fourth section of Mr HUME S Es-
says on the Human Understanding is called, Sceptical doubts
concerning the operations of the understanding ; and the
fth section bears this title, Sceptical solution of these doubts .
B b
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III.
the many sublime mysteries brought to light by this
great philosopher. But these, however they may
illuminate our terrestrial literati, would convey no
information to the planetary stranger, except perhaps
that the sage metaphysician knew nothing of this
subject.
What a strange detail ! does not the reader ex-
clairn ? Can it be, that any man should ever bring
himself to think, or imagine that he could bring o-
thers to think so absurdly ! What a taste, what a
heart must he possess, whose delight it is, to repre
sent nature as a chaos, and man as a monster ; to
search for deformity and confusion, where others re
joice in the perception of order and beauty ; and to
seek to imbitter the happiest moments of human life,
namely, those we employ in contemplating the works
of creation, and adoring their Author, by this sug
gestion, equally false and malevolent, that the moral
as well as material world, is nothing but darkness,
dissonance, and perplexity !
" Where all life dies, death lives, and nature breeds
** Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things,
" Abominable, unutterable, and worse
" Than fables yet hath feign d, or fear conceiv d !
Were this system a true one, we should be little o-
bliged to him who gives it to the public ; for we
could hardly imagine a greater misfortune than such
a cast of understanding as would make us believe it.
But founded, as it is, in words misunderstood, and
facts misrepresented ; supported, as it is, by so
phistry so egregious, and often so puerile, that we
can hardly conceive how even the author himself
should be imposed upon by it ; surely he who at
tempts to obtrude it on the weak and unwary, must
have something in his disposition, which, to a man
of a good heart, or good taste, can never be the ob
ject of envy.
CHAP. II. ESSAY ON TRUTH.
We are told, that the end of scepticism, as it was
taught by Pyrrho, Sextus Empiricus, and other an
cients, was to obtain indisturbance. I know not
whether this be the end our modern sceptics have
in view ; if it is, the means they employ for attain
ing it are strangely preposterous. If the prospect
of nature exhibited in their systems produce tran
quillity or indisturbance, how dreadful must that
tranquillity be ! It is like that of a man, turned a-drift
amidst a dark and tempestuous ocean, in a crazy
skiff, with neither rudder nor compass, who, ex
hausted by the agitations of despair and distraction,
loses at last all sense of his misery, and becomes to
tally stupid. In fact, the only thing, that can enable
sceptics to endure existence, is insensibility. Au4
how far that is consistent with delicacy of mind, let
those among them explain who are ambitious of pas
sing for men of taste.
It is remarked by a very ingenious and amiable
writer, that " many philosophers have been infidels,
" few men of taste and sentiment *." This, if I
mistake not, holds equally true of our sceptics in
philosophy, and infidels in religion : and it holds true
of both for the same reason. The views and expec
tations of the infidel and sceptic are so full of horror,
that to a man of taste, that is, of sensibility and ima
gination, they are insupportable. On the other hand,
what true religion and true philosophy dictate of God,
and providence, and man, is so charming, so conso
nant with all the finer and nobler feelings in human
nature, that every man of taste who hears of it must
wish it to be true : and I never yet heard of one per
son of candour, who wished to find the evidence of
the gosp 1 satisfactory, and did not find it so. Dull
imaginations and hard hearts can bear the thought of
endless confusion, of virtue depressed and vice tri-
* Dr Gregory s Comparative View, p. 20 1, fourth edi
tion *
29$ Atf ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART IIT.
utnphant, of au universe peopled with fiends and fu
ries, of creation annihilated, and chaos restored to re
main a scene of darkness and solitude for ever and
for ever : But it is not so with the benevolent and
tender-hearted ; their notions are regulated by a-
riother standard ; their hopes and fears, their joys
and sorrows, are quite of a different kind.
The moral powers and the powers of taste are
rnore congenial than is commonly imagined ; and he
who is destitute of the latter will ever be found as
incapable to describe or judge of the former, as a
man wanting the sense of smell is to decide concer
ning relishes. Nothing is more true, than that
** a little learning is a dangerous thing." If we are
but a little acquainted with one part of a complicated
system, how is it possible for us to judge aright, ei
ther of the nature of the whole, or the fitness of that
part ! And a little knowledge of one small part of
the mental system, is all that any man can be allow
ed to have, who is defective in imagination, sensi
bility, and the other powers of taste. Yet, as igno
rance is apt to produce temerity, I should not be
surprised to find such men most forward to attempt
reducing the philosophy of human nature -to system :
and, if they made the attempt, I should not wonder
that they fell into the most important mistakes.
Like a short-sighted landscape painter, they might
^possibly delineate some of the largest and roughest
figures with tolerable exactness : but of the minuter
objects, some would wholly escape their notice, and
others appear blotted and distorted, on which nature
had bestowed the utmost delicacy of colour, and har
mony of proportion.
The modern sceptical philosophy is as corrupt a
body of science as ever appeared in the world. And
it deserves our notice, that the most considerable of
its adherents and promoters were more eminent for
subtlety of reason, than for sensibility of taste. We
know that this was the case with MALI BRANCHED
II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 29$
of whom Mr D Alembert says, that he could not
read the most sublime verses without weariness and
disgust *. This was also the case with another au
thor, to whom our latter sceptics are more obliged
than they seem willing to acknowledge, I mean Mr
HOBBES; whose translation of Homer bears just such
a resemblance to the Iliad and Odyssey, as a putre
fying carcase bears to a beautiful and vigorous hu
man body. Of the taste of our later sceptics, I leave
the reader to judge from his own observation.
The philosophy of the mind, if such as it ought
to be, would certainly interest us more than any o-
ther science. Are the sceptical treatises on this
subject interesting ? Do they bring conviction to the
judgment, or delight to the fancy? Do they either
reach the heart, or seem to proceed from it ? Do
they make us better acquainted with ourselves, or
better prepared for the business of life ? Do they not
raiher infeeble and harass the sou), divert its atten
tion from every thing that can enlarge and improve
it, give it a disrelish for itself, and for every thing
else, and disqualify it alike for action, and for useful
knowledge ?
Other causes might be assigned for the present
degeneracy of the moral sciences. I shall mention
one, which I the rather chuse to take notice of, and
insist upon, because it has been generally overlooked.
DES CARTES and MALEBRANCHE introduced the fa
shion, whic f i continues to this day. of neglecting the
ancients in all their philosophical inquiries. We
Seem to think, because we are confessedly superior
in some sere. ices, that we must be so in all But
that this is a rash judgment, may easily be made ap
pear, even on the supposition, that human genius is
nearly the same in all ages*
When accidental discovery, long experience, or
profound investigation, are the means of advancing a
* Essai sur le Gout.
Bb 3
300 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. - PART Ilf,
science/it is reasonable to expect, that the improve
ments of that science will increase with length of
time. Accordingly we find, that in natural philoso
phy, natural history, and some parts of mathematical
learning, the moderns are far superior to the an
cients. But the science of human nature, being at
tainable rather by intuition than by deep reasoning
or nice experiment, must depend for its cultivation
upon other causes. Different ages and nations have
different customs. Sometimes it is the fashion to be
reserved and affected, at other times to be simple
and sincere : sometimes, therefore, it will be easy,
and at other times difficult to gain a competent know
ledge of human nature by observation. In the old
romances, we seek for human nature in vain ; the
manners are all affected ; prudery is the highest, and
almost the only ornament, of the woman : and a fan
tastical honour of the men : but the writers adapted
themselves to the prevailing taste, and painted the
manners as they saw them. In our own country,
we have seen various modes of affectation, succes
sively prevail within a few years. To say nothing
of present times ; every body knows, how much pe
dantry, libertinism, and false wit, contributed to dis
guise human nature in the last century. And 1 ap
prehend, that in all monarchies one mode or other of
artificial manners must always prevail ; to the for
mation of which the character of princes, the taste
of the times, and a variety of other causes will co
operate.
Montesquieu s opinion, that the courts of monarchs
must always of necessity be corrupt, I cannot sub
scribe to. I think, that virtue may be, and sometimes
is> the principle of action, even in the highest offices
of monarchy : my meaning is, that, under this form
of government, human manners must generally de
viate, more or less, from the simplicity of nature,
and thutj consequently, human sentiments must be of
611 AP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 30*
more difficult investigation than under some other
forms. In Courts, it seems requisite, for the sake
of that order which is essential to dignity, to esta
blish certain punctilios in dress, language, and ges
ture : there too, the most inviolable secrecy is expe
dient j and there, where men are always under the
eye of their superiors, and. for the most part enga
ged in the pursuits of ambition or interest, a smooth
ness of behaviour will naturally take place, which-,
among persons of ordinary talents, .and ordinary vir
tue, must on many occasions degenerate into hypo
crisy. The customs of the court are always imita
ted by the higher ranks ; the middle ranks follow the
higher; and the people come after as fast as they
can. It is however, in the last mentioned class, where
nature appears with the least disguise : but, unhap
pily for moral science, the vulgar are seldom ob
jects of curiosity, either to our philosophers, or his*,
torians.
The influence of these causes, in distinguishing
human sentiments, will, I presume, be greater or less,
according as the monarchy partakes more or less of
democratical principles. There is, indeed, one set
of sentiments, which monarchy and modern manners
are peculiarly fitted for disclosing, 1 mean those that
relate to gallantry : but whether these tend to make
human nature more or less known,, might perhaps
bear a question.
Modern history ought, on many accounts, to in
terest us more than the ancient. It describes man
ners that are familiar to us, events whereof we see
and feel the consequences, political establishments on
which our property and security depend, and places
and persons in which experience or tradition has al
ready given us a concern. And yet I. believe it will
be generally acknowledged, that the ancient histories,
particularly of Greece and Rome, are more interest
ing than those of later times. In fact the most af
fecting part, both of history and of poetry, is that
302 AN ESSAr ON TRUTH, FART ITT,
which best displays the characters, manners, and
sentiments of men. Histories that are deficient in
this respect, may communicate instruction to the geo
grapher, the warrior, the genealogist, and the politi
cian ; but will never please the general taste, be
cause they excite no passion, and awaken no sym
pathy. Now, I cannot help thinking, that the per
sonages described in modern history have r with a
very few exceptions, a stiffness and reserve about
them, which doth not seem to adhere to the great
men of antiquity, particularly of Greece. I will not
say, that our historians have less ability or less in
dustry ; but 1 would say, that demociatical govern
ments, like those of ancient Greece, are more fa
vourable to simplicity of manners, and consequently
to the 1 knowledge of the human mind, than our mo
dern monarchies. At Athens and Sparta, the public
assemblies, the public exeicises, the regular atten
dance given to all the public solemnities, whether re
ligious or civil, and other institutions that might be
mentioned, gave the citizens many opportunities of
being well acquainted with one another. There the
great men were not cooped up in palaces and coaches ;
they were almost constantly in the open air, and on
foot. The people saw them every day, conversed
with them, and observed their behaviour in the hours
of relaxation, as well as of business. Themistocles
could c*ll every citizen of Athens by his name ; a
proof that the great men courted an universal ac
quaintance.
No degree of genius will ever make one a profici
ent in tt.e science of man, without accurate observa
tion of human nature in all its varieties. Homer,
the greatest master in this science ever known, pass
ed the most of his life in travelling : his poverty,,
and other misfortunes, made him often dependent on
the meanest, as his talents recommended him to the
friendship of the greatest ; so that what he says of
Ulysses may justly be applied to himself, that " he
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 303
" visited many states and nations, and knew the
" characters of many men." Virgil had not the
same opportunities : he lived in an age of more re
finement, and was perhaps too much conversant in
courtly life, as well as too bashful in his deportment^
and delicate in his constitution, to study the varieties
of human nature, where in a monarchy they are most
conspicuous, namely in the middle and lower ranks of
mankind. Need we wonder, then, that in the dis
play of character he falls so far short of his great
original? Shakespeare was familiarly acquainted with
all ranks and conditions of men ; without which, not
withstanding his unbounded imagination, it is not to
be supposed, that he could have succeeded so Well
iii delineating every species of human character, from
the consiable to the monarch, from the hero to the
clown. And it deserves our notice, that, however
ignorant he might be of Latin and Greek, he was
well acquainted, by translation, with some of the
ancients, particularly Plutarch, whom he seems to
have studied with much attention, and who indeed
excels all historians in exhibiting lively and interest
ing views of human nature. Great vicissitudes of
fortune gave Fielding an opportunity of associating
with all classes of men, except perhaps the highest,
whom he rarely attempts to describe : Swift s way
of life is well known : and I have been told, that
Congreve used to mingle in disguise with the com
mon people, and pass whole days and weeks among
them.
That the ancient painters and statuaries were in
many respects superior to the modern, is universally
allowed. The monuments of their genius that still re
main, would convince us of it, even though we were
to suppose the accounts given by Pliny, Lucian, and
other contemporary authors, to be a little exaggerat
ed. The uuc .rm:o i spirit and elegance of their at
titudes and proportions are obvious to every eye:
and a great master seems to think, that modern axv.
304 AN " ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART in.
tists, though they ought to imitate, can never hope
to equal the magnificence of their ideas, or the beauty
of their figures *. To account for this, we need not
suppose, that human genius decays as the world
grows older. It may be ascribed, partly to the su
perior elegance of the human form in those days, and
partly to the artists having then better opportunities
of observing the human body, free from the incum-
brances of dress, in all the varieties of action and mo
tion. The ancient discipline of the Greeks and Ro
mans, particularly the former, was admirably calcu
lated for improving the human body in health,
strength, swiftness, flexibility, and grace. In these
respects, therefore, they could hardly fail to excel the
moderns, whose education and manners tend rather
to enervate the body, and cramp all its faculties.
And, as the ancients performed their exercises in
public, and performed many of them naked, and
thooght it honourable to excel in them ; as their
clothing was much less cumbersome than our Go
thic apparel, and shewed the body to more advantage ;
it must be allowed, that their painters and statuaries
had far better opportunities of observation than ours
enjoy, who see nothing but aukward and languid
figures, disguised by an unwieldly and ungraceful
attire.
Will it not, then, be acknowledged, that the ancients
may have excelled the moderns in the science of hu
man nature, provided it can be shewn, that they had
better opportunities of observing it ? That this was
the case, appears from what has been already said.
And that they really excelled us in this science, will
not be doubted by those who acknowledge their su
periority in rhetoric and criticism ; two arts which
are founded in the philosophy of the human mind.
But a more direct proof of the point in question may
be had in the writings of Homer, Plutarch, and the So-
* Fresnoy, De Arte Graphica, lin. 190,
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 305
cratic philosophers ; which, for their admirable pic
tures of human nature in its genuine simplicity, are
not equalled bj any compositions of a later date.
Of Aristotle I say nothing. We are assured by those
who have read his works, that no author ever un
derstood human nature better than he. Fielding
himself * pays him this compliment ; and his tes
timony will be allowed to have considerable weight.
Let me therefore recommend it to those philoso
phers who may hereafter make human nature the
subject of their speculation, to study the ancients
more than our modern sceptics seem to have done.
If we set out, like the author of The Treatise oj
Human Nature, with a fixed purpose to advance as
many paradoxes as possible ; or with this foolish
conceit, that men in all former ages were utter stran
gers to themselves, and to one another ; and that we
are the first of our species on whom Nature has be
stowed any glimmerings of discernment ; we may de
pend on it, that in proportion as our vanity and arro
gance are great, our success will be small. It will
be, like that of a musician, who should take it in his
head, that Corelli had no taste in counterpoint, nor
Handel or Jackson any genius for melody ; of an epic
poet, who should fancy that Homer, Virgil, and
Milton, were very bad writers ; or of a painter, who
should suppose all his brethren of former times to
have been unacquainted with the colours, lineaments,
and proportions of visible objects.
If Columbus, before he set out on his famous ex
pedition to the western world, had amused himself
with writing a history of the countries he was going
to visit ; would the lovers of truth, and interpreters
of nature, have received any improvement or satis
faction from such a specimen of his ingenuity ? And
is not the system which, without regard^to experience,
15 Fielding s works, vol. xi. page 384, London 1766,
12 mo.
306 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III.
a philosopher frames in his closet, concerning the na
ture of man, equally frivolous? If Columbus, in
such a history, had described the Americans with
two heads, cloven feet, wings, and a scarlet com
plexion ; and, after visiting them, and finding his de
scription false in every particular, had yet published
that description to the world, affirming it to be true,
and at the same time, acknowledging, that it did not
correspond with his experience ; I know not whe
ther mankind would have been most disposed to
blame his disingenuity, to laugh at his absurdity, or
to pity his want of understanding. And yet we have
known a metaphysician to contrive a system of hu
man nature, and, though sensible that it did not cor
respond with the real appearances of human nature,
deliver it to the world as incontrovertible truth ; we
have heard this system applauded as a master-piece
of genius, and admitted as incontrovertible truth ;
and we have seen the experience of individuals, the
universal consent of nations, the accumulated wisdom,
of ages, and every principle in philosophy, every truth
in religion, and every dictate of common sense, sa
crificed to this contemptible and self-contradictory
chimera.
I would further recommend it to our moral philo
sophers, to study themselves with candour and atten
tion, and cultivate an acquaintance with mankind,
especially with those whose manners retain most of
the truth and simplicity of nature. Acquaintance
with the great makes a man of fashion, but will not
make a philosopher. They who are ambitious to
merit this appellation, think nothing below them
which the author of nature has been pleased to create,
to preserve, and to adorn Away with this passion
for system-building ! it is pedantry : away with this
last of paradox ! it is presumption. Be equally a-
shamed of dogmatical prejudice, and sceptical incre
dulity ; for both are as remote fiem the spirit of true
CHAP. ir. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 307
philosophy, as bullying and cowardice from true
valour.
It will be said, perhaps, that a general knowledge
of man is sufficient for the philosopher ; and that
this particular knowledge which we recommend, is
necessary only for the novelist and poet. But let it
be remembered, that many important errors in moral
philosophy have arisen from the want of this parti
cular knowledge ; and that it is by too little, not by
too much experience, by scanty, not by copious, in
duction-, that philosophy is corrupted. Men have
rarely framed a system, without first consulting ex
perience in regard to some few obvious facts. We
are apt to be prejudiced in favour of the notions that
prevail within our own narrow circle ; but we must
quit that circle if we would divest ourselves of pre
judice, as we must go from home if we would get
rid of our provincial accent. " Horace asserts wis-
" dom and good sense to be the source and principle
" of goo d writing; for the attainment of which he
" prescribes a careful study of the Socrntic, that is,
" moral wisdom, and a thorough acquaintance with
" human nature that great exemplar of manners, as
" he finely calls it ; or, in other words, a wide ex-
" tensive view of real practical life. The joint di-
" rection of these two," I quote the words of an ad
mirable critic and most ingenuous philosopher, lt as
** means of acquiring moral knowledge, is perfectly
* c necessary. For the former, when alone, is apt to
" grow abstracted and unaiFecting ; the latter unin-
" structing and superficial. The philosopher talks
* without experience, and the man of the world with-
f * out principles. United they supply each other s
" defects ; while the man of the world borrows so
" much of the philosopher, as to be able to adjust
" the several sentiments with precision and exact-
" ness ; and the philosopher so much of the man of
" the world, as to copy the manners of life (which
(( we can only do by experience) with truth and
C c
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III.
* spirit. Both together furnish a thorough and com-
" plete comprehension of human life *..
That I may not be thought a blind admirer of an
tiquity, I would here crave the reader s indulgence
for one short digression more, in order to put him
in mind of an important error in morals, inferred
from partial and inaccurate experience, by no less a
person than Aristotle himself, He argues, " That
** men of little genius, and great bodily strength, are
"by nature destined to serve, and those of better
" capacity, to command ; that the natives of Greece,
" and of some other countries, being naturally supe-
" rior in genius, have a natural right to empire ; and
" that the rest of mankind, being naturally stupid,
" are destined to labour and slavery f." This rea
soning is now, alas I of little advantage to Aristotle s
countrymen, who have for many ages been doomed
to that slavery, which, in his judgment, nature had
destined them to impose on others ; and many nations
whom he would have consigned to everlasting stu
pidity, have shown themselves equal in genius to the
most exalted of human kind. It would have been
more worthy of Aristotk, to have inferred man s na
tural and universal right to liberty, from that natural
and universal passion with which men desire it, and
from the salutary consequences to learning, to vir
tue, and to every human improvement, of which it
never fails to be productive. He wanted, perhaps,
to devise some excuse for servitude ; a practice which
to their eternal reproach, both Greeks and Romans
tolerated even in the days of their glory.
Mr HUME argues nearly in the same manner in
regard to the superiority of white men over black.
" I am apt to suspect," says he, " the negroes, and
" in general all the other species of men, (for there
.-, -r-r . T- i4tt ,1
* .Kurd s Commentary on Horace s .Epistle to the
Pisos, p. 25. edit. 4.
t De Republ. lib. 1. cap, 5, 6,
v *
ClfAP. II. AN ESSAY Otf TRUTH.
" are four or five different kinds), to be naturally
" inferior to the whites. There never was a civilized
" nation of any other complexion than white, nor
" even any individual eminent either in action or spe-
" culation. No ingenious manufactures among them,
" no arts, no sciences. There are negroe-slaves dis-
" persed all over Europe, of which none ever dis-
" covered any symptons of ingenuity *." These
assertions are strong ; but I know not whether they
have any thing else to recommend them. For, first,
though true, they would not prove the point in ques
tion, except it were also proved, that the Africans
and Americans, even though arts and sciences were
introduced among them, would still remain unsus
ceptible of cultivation. The inhabitants of Great
Britain arid France were as savage two thousand years
ago, as those of Africa and America are at this day.
To civilize a nation is a work which requires long
time to accomplish. And one may as well say of
an infant, that he can never become a man, as of a
nation now barbarous, that it never can be civilized.
Secondly, of the facts here asserted,- no man could
have sufficient evidence, except from a personal ac
quaintance with all the negroes that now are, or ever
were, on the face of the earth. These people write
no histories ; and all the reports of all the travellers
that ever visited them 7 will not amount to any thing-
like a proof of what is here affirmed Bur, thirdly,
we know that these assertions are not true. The
empires of Peru and Mexico could not have been
governed, nor the metropolis of the latter built after
so singular a manner, in the middle of a lake, without
men eminent both for action and speculation. Every
body has heard of the magnificence, good government,
and ingenuity, of the ancient Peruvians. The Afri
cans and Americans are known to have many inge
nious manufactures and arts among them, which e-
ven Europeans would find it no easy matter to imi-
* Hume s Essay on National Characters,
Cc 2
3IO AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II*.
tate. Sciences indeed they have none, because they
have no letters ; but in oratory, some of them, par
ticularly the Indians of the Ftve Nations, are said to
be greatly our superiors. It will be readily allowed
that the condition of a slave is riot favourable to ge
nius of any kind ; and yet, the negroe-slaves dispers
ed over Europe, have often discovered symptoms of
ingenuity, notwithstanding their unhappy circum
stances. They become excellent handicraftsmen, and
practical musicians, and indeed learn every thing
their masters are at pains to teach them, perfidy and
debauchery not excepted. That a negroe-slave, who
can neither read nor write, nor speak any European
language, who is not permitted to do any thing but
what his master commands, and who has not a single
friend on earth, but i.s universally, considered and
treated as if he were of a species inferior to the hu
man ; that such a creature should so distinguish
himself among Europeans, as to be talked of through
the world for a man of genius, is surely no reasonable
expectation. To suppose him of an inferior species,
because he does not thus distinguish himself, is just
as rational, as to suppose any private European of an
inferior species, because he has not raised himself to
the condition of royalty.
Had the Europeans been destitute of the arts -of
writing and working in iron, they might have re-
xaiaiaed to this day as barbarous as the natives of A-
frica and America. Nor is the invention of these
arts to be ascribed to our superior capacity. The
genius of the invt iif.oi: is not always to he estimated
according to the importance of ihe invemion. Gun*
powuer end the ix^nr.c-rs compass have produced
wonderful revolution-; in human affairs, and yet were
lU-clderitsldLeovxriiiK. bach, probably, were the first
s in writing iind \vorking in iron, Suppose
them the .effects of contrivance ; they were at least
contrived by a few individuals ; and if they required
a superiority cf understanding, cr of species, in the
CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 3!!
inventors, those inventors, and their descendents, are
the only persons who can lay claim to the honour of
that superiority.
That every practice and sentiment is barbarous
which is not according to the usages of modern En-
rope, seems to be a fundamental maxim with many
of our critics and philosophers. Their remarks of
ten put us in mind of the fable of the man and the
lion. If Negroes or Indians were disposed to re
criminate ; if a Lucian or a Voltaire from the coast
of Guinea, or from the five nations, were to pay us
a visit, what a picture of European manners might
he present to his countrymen at his return ! Nor
would caricatura,or exaggeration, be necessary to ren
der it hideous. A plain historical account of some
of our most fashionable duelists, gamblers, and adul
terers, (to name no more), would exhibit specimens
of brutish barbarity, and sottish infatuation, such as
might vie with any that ever appeared in Kamschat-
ka, California, or the land of the Hottentots,
It is easy to see with what views some modern
authors throw out these hints to prove the natural
inferiority of negroes. Bat let every friend to hu
manity pray, that they may be disappointed. Bri
tons are famous for generosity ; a virtue in which it
is easy for them to excel both the Romans and the
Greeks. Let it never be said, that slavery is coun
tenanced by the bravest, and most generous people
on earth ; by a people who are animated with that
heroic passion, the love of liberty, beyond all nations
ancient or modern ; and the fame of whose toilsome,
but unwearied perseverance, in vindicating, at the ex-
pence of life and fortune, the sacred rights of man
kind, will strike terror into the hearts of sycophants-
and tyrants, and excite the admiration and gratitude
ef all good men to the latest posterity.,
Cc 3
312 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III.
CHAP. III.
Consequences of Metaphysical Scepticism.
A FTKR all, it will perhaps be objected to thisdis-
** course, that I have laid too much stress upon
the consequences of metaphysical absurdity, and re
presented them as much more dangerous than they
are found to be in fact. I shall be told, that many
pf the controversies in metaphysic are merely verbal ;
and the errors proceeding from them of so abstract a
nature, that philosophers run little risk, and the vul
gar no risk at all, of being influenced by them in
practice. It will be said, that I never heard of any
man who fell a sacrifice to Berkeley s system, by
breaking his neck over a material precipice, which
he had taken for an ideal one ; nor of any Fatalist,
whose morals were, upon the whole, more exception
able than those of the assertors of free agency : in a
word, that whatever effect such tenets may have up
on the understanding, they seldom or never produce
any sensible effects upon the heart. In considering
this objection, I must confine myself to a few topics,
for the subject to which it leads is of vast extent,
The influence of the metaphysical spirit upon art,
science, and manners, would furnish matter for a large
treatise, it will suffice at present to shew, that me
taphysical errors are not harmless, but may produce,
and actually have produced some very important and
interesting consequences.
I begin with an observation often made, and in
deed obvious enough, namely, That happiness is the
end of our being ; aud that knowledge, and even
iruth itself, are valuable only as they tend to pro
mote it. Every ustkss study is a pernicious thing,
because it wastes our time and misemploys our fa
culties. To prove that metaphysical absurdities do
no good, would therefore sufficiently justify the pre
sent undertaking. But it requires no deep sagacity
to be able to prove a great deal more.
CHAP. HI. AN ESSAY ON TROTH. 313
We acknowledge, however, that all metaphysical
errors are not equally dangerous. There is an ob
scurity in the abstract sciences, as they are common
ly taught, which is often no bad preservative against
their influence. This obscurity is sometimes una
voidable, on account of the insufficiency of language ;,
sometimes it is owing to the spiritless and slovenly
style of the writer ; and sometimes it is affected : as
when a philosopher, from prudential considerations,
thinks fit to disguise any occasional attack on the re
ligion or laws of his country, by some artful equivoca*
tion, in the forn> of allegory, dialogue, or fable *. The
style of The Treatise of Human Nature is so exceed
ingly obscure and uninteresting, that if the Author
had not in his Essays re-published the capital doc-
* Mr Hume is not unacquainted with this piece of po
licy. His apology for Atheism he delivers by the mouth
of a friend, in the way of conference, prefaced with a de
claration, that though he cannot by any means approve
many of the sentiments of that friend, yet he thinks they
bear some relation to the chain of reasoning carried on in
his enquiry concerning human nature. He had something,
it seems, to say against his Maker, which he moaestly ac
knowledges to be curious, and worthy of attention^ and
which he thought no doubt, to be mighty smart and cle
ver. To call it what it really is, An attemyi: tp vindicate
Atheism, cr what he probably thought it ; ^-. /indication
of Atheism, seemed dangerous, and might di: wust many of
his well-meaning readers : He calls it, thereiore, dn Es
say on a Particular: Prwidence and a Tuturs S/ta e, and puts.
liis capital arguments in the mouth of another person : thus
providing by the same generous, candid, and. manly expe
dient, a snare for the unwary reader, and an evasion for
himself. Perhaps it will be asked, what I mean by the
word Atheist ? I answer, A reasonable creature, who dis
believes the being of God, cr thinks it inconsistent with
sound reason, to believe that the great First Cause is per
fect in holiness, power, wisdom, justice and beneficence,
is a speculative Atheist 5 and he who endeavours to instil
the same unbelief into others, is a practical Atheist.
3*4 AN *SAV ON TRUTH. ?ART IIR
frines of that work in a style more elegant and
sprightly, a confutation of them would have been
altogether unnecessary : their uncouth and gloomy
aspect would have deterred most people from court
ing their acquaintance. And, after all, though this
author is one of the deadliest, he is not perhaps one
of the most dangerous enemies of religion. Boling-
broke, his inferior in subtlety, but far superior in
wit, eloquence, and knowledge of mankind, is more
dangerous, because more entertaining. So that tho j
the reader may be disposed to applaud the patriot
ism of the grand jury of Westminster, who present
ed the posthumous works of that noble Lord as a
public nuisance, he must be sensible that there was
no necessity for affixing any such stigma to the phi
losophical writings of the Scottish author. And yet
it cannot be denied, that even these, notwithstanding
their obscurity, have done mischief enough to make
every sober-minded person earnestly wish that they
had never existed.
Further, some metaphysical errors are so grossly
absurd, that there is hardly a possibility of their per
verting our conduct. Such, considered in itself, is
the doctrine of the non-existence of matter ; which
no man in his senses was ever capsble of believing for
a single moment. Pyrrho was a vain hypocrite : he
took it in his head to say that he believed nothing,
because he wanted to be taken notice of: he affected,
too, to act up to this pretended disbelief ; and would
not of his own accord step aside to avoid a dog, a
chariot, or a precipice : but he always took care to
have some friends or servants at hand, whose busi
ness it was to keep the philosopher out of harm s
way. That the universe is nothing but a heap of im
pressions and ideas unperceived by any substance, is
another of those profound mysteries, from which we
need not apprehend much danger ; because it is so
perfectly absurd, that no words but sacu as imply a
contradiction^ will express it, I knovv not whether
OHAP. III. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH*
the absurdity of a system was ever before urged as
en apology for its author. But it is better to be ab
surd than mischievous : and happy it were for the
world, and much to the credit of some persons now
in it, if metaphysicians were chargeable with nothing
worse than absurdity.
Again, certain errors in our theories of human na
ture, considered in themselves, are in some measure
harmless, when the principles that oppose their in
fluence are strong and active. A gentle disposition,
confirmed habits of virtue, obedience to law, a regard
to order, or even the fear of punishment, often prove
antidotes to metaphysical poison. When Fatality
has these principles to combat, it may puzzle the
judgment, but will not corrupt the heart. Natural
instinct never fails to oppose it ; all men believe
themselves free agents, as long at least as they keep
clear of metaphysic ; nay, so powerful is the senti
ment of moral liberty, that I cannot think it was e-
ver entirely subdued in any rational being. But if
it were subdued, (and surely no Fatalist will ac
knowledge it invincible^ ; if the opposite princi
ples should at the same time cease to act ; and if de
bauchery, bad example, and licentious writings,
should extinguish or weaken the sense of duty j
what might not be apprehended from men who are
above law, or can screen themselves from punish
ment ? What virtue is to be expected from a being
who believes itself a mere machine ? If I were per
suaded, that the evil I commit is imposed upon me
by fatal necessity, I should think repentance as ab
surd as Xerxes scourging the waves of the Helles
pont ; and be as little disposed to form resolutions
of amendment, as to contrive schemes for preventing
the frequent eclipses of the satellites of Jupiter. li
very author who publishes an essay in behalf of Fa-
tility, is willing to run the risk of bringing all men
over to his opinion. What if this should be the
consequence ? If it be possible to make one reason-
316 Aff ESSAT OJT TRUTH. PART Ilf.
able creature a Fatalist, may it not be possible to
make many such ? And would this be a matter of
little or no moment ? It is demonstrable, that it
would not. But we have already explained ourselves
en this head.
Other metaphysical errors there are, which,
though they do not strike more directly at the foun
dations of virtue, are more apt to influence mankind,
because they are not so vigorously counteracted by
any particular propensity. What shall we say to
the theory of HoB3-ES, who makes the distinction be
tween vice and virtue to be wholly artificial, with
out any foundation in the divine will, or human con
stitution, and depending entirely on the arbitrary
laws of human governors ? According to this ac
count, no action that is commanded by a king can be
vitious, and none virtuous except Warranted by that
authority. Were this opinion universal, what
eould deter men from secret wickedness, or such as
is not cognisable by law ? What could restrain gov
ernors from the utmost insolence of tyranny ? What
but a miracle could save the human race from per
dition.
In the preface to one of Mr HUME S late publica
tions, we are presented with an elaborate panegyric
on the author. " Hs hath exerted, says the writer
" of the preface,- those great talents he received
* 4 from Nature, and the acquisitions he made by
" study, in search of truth, and in promoting the
** good of mankind." A noble encomium indeed I
If it be a true one, what are we to think of a Dou
glas, a Campbell, a Gerard, a Reid, and some o-
thers, who have attacked several of Mr HUME S
opinions, and proved them to be contrary to truth,
and subversive of the good of mankind ? I thought
indeed, that the works of those excellent writers
had given great satisfaction to the friends of truth
and virtue, and done an important service to soci
ety ; but, if I believe, this prefacer, I must look on
CHA?. III. AN" ESSAY ON TRUTH.
them, as well as on this attempt of my own, with
detestation and horror. But before so great a change
in my sentiments can take place, it will be necessary,
that Mr HUME prove, to my satisfaction, that he is
neither the authounor the publisher of the Essays
that bear his name, nor of the Treatise of Human
Nature. For I will not take it on his, nor on any
man s word, that religion, both revealed and natur
al, and all conviction in regard to truth, are detri
mental to mankind. And it is most certain, that
he, if he is indeed the author of those Essays, and
of that Treatise, hath exerted his great talents, and
employed several years of his life, in endeavour
ing to persuade the world, that the fundamental doc
trines of natural religion are irrational, and the proofs
of revealed religion such as ought not to satisfy an
impartial mind ; and that there is not in any science
an evidence of truth sufficient to produce certainty.
Suppose these opinions established in the world s and
say, if you can, that the good of mankind would be
promoted by them. To me it seems impossible for
society to exist tinder the influence of such opinions*
Nor let it be thought, that we give an unfavourable
view of human nature, when we insist on the neces
sity of good principles for the preservation of
good order. Such a total subversion of human
sentiment is, I believe, impossible : mankind, at
their very worst, are not such monsters, as to ad
mit it ; reason, conscience, taste, habit, interesr, fear,
must perpetually oppose it ; but the philosophy that
aims at a total subversion of human sentiment is not
on that account the less detestable. And yet it is
said of the authors of this philosophy, that they ex
ert their great talents in promoting the good of man
kind. What an insult on human narure and common
sense ! If mankind are tame enough to acquiesce in
such an insult, and servile enough to reply, " It is
" true, we have been much obliged to the celebrated
" sceptics of this most enlightened age," they
would almost tempt one to express himself in the
1 8 AH ESSAY ON TRUTH. FART III,
style of misanthrophy, and say, " Si populus vult
* decipi, decipiatur."
Every doctrine is dangerous that tends to discre
dit the evidence of our senses, external or internal,
and to subvert the original instinctive principles of
human belief. In this respect the most unnatural
and incomprehensible absurdities, such as the doc
trine of the non-existence of matter, and of percep
tions without a percipient, are far from being harm
less ; as they seem to lead, and actually have led,
to universal scepticism ; and set an example of a me
thod of reasoning sufficient to overturn all truth, and
pervert every human faculty. In this respect also
we hive proved the doctrine of fatality to be of most
pernicious tendency, as it leads men to suppose their
mor.il sentiments fallacious or equivocal ; not to
mention its influence on our notions of God, and na
tural religion. When a sceptic attacks one princi
ple of common sense, he does in effect attack all ;
for if we are made distrustful of the veracity of in
stinctive conviction in one instance, we must, or at
least we may, become equally distrustful in every
other. A little scepticism introduced into science
will soon assimilate the whole to its own nature ;
the fatal fermentation, once begun, spreads wider
and wider every moment, till all the mass be trans
formed into rottenness and poison.
There i* no exaggeration here. The present state
.of the abstract sciences is a melancholy proof, that
what I sav is true. This is called the age of reason
and philosophy ; and this is the age of avowed and
dogmatical atheism. Sceptics have at last grown
Weary of doubting ; and have now discovered, br
the force of their great talents, that one thing at
least is certain, namely, that God, and religion, and
immortality, are empty sounds. This is the final
triumph of our so much boasted philosophic spirit ;
th e are the limits of the dominion of error, beyond
which we can hardly conceive it possible for human
CHAP. II*. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 31$
sophistry to penetrate. Exult, O Metaphysic, at
the consummation of thy glories. More thou canst
xiot hope, more thou canst not desire. Fall down, ye
mortals, and acknowledge the stupendous blessing :
adore those men of great talents, those daring spi
rits, those patterns of modesty, gentleness, andean-
dour, those prodigies of genius, those heroes in be
neficence, who have thus laboured to strip you of
every rational consolation, and to make your condK
tion ten thousand times worse than that of the beasts
that perish.
Why can I not express myself with less warmth !
Why can I not devise an apology for these philoso
phers, to screen them from this dreadful imputation
of being the enemies and plagues of mankind ! Per
haps they do not themselves believe their own te
nets, but -publish them only as the means of getting a
name and a fortune. But I hope this is not the
case ; God forbid that it should ! for then the enor
mity of their guilt would surpass all power of Ian-,
guage ; we could only gaze at it, and tremble.
Compared with such wickedness, the crimes of the
thief, the robber, the incendiary, would almost dis
appear. These sacrifice the fortunes or the lives of
some of their fellow-creatures, to their own neces
sity or outrageous appetite ! but those would run the
hazard of sacrificing, to their own avarice or vanity,
the happiness of all mankind, both here and hereaf
ter. No ; I cannot suppose it : the heart of man,
however depraved, is not capable of such infernal
malignity. Perhaps they do not foresee the conse
quences of their doctrines. BERKELEY most certain
ly did not But BERKELEY did not attack the re
ligion of his country, did not seek to undermine the
foundations of virtue, did not preach or recommend
Atheism. He erred ; and who is free from error ?
but his intention* were irreproachable ; and his con
duct as a man, and a Christian, did honour to human
nature. Perhaps our modern sceptics are ignorant?
3 IP AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III.
that, without the belief of a God, and the hope of
immortality, the miseries of human- life would often
be insupportable. But can 1 suppose them in a state
of total and invincible stupidity, \itter strangers to
the human heart, and to tinman affairs ! Sure they
would not thank me for such -a supposition. Yet
-this I must suppose, or I must believe them to be
the most cruel, trre most perfidious, and the most
profligate of men.
Caressed by those who call themselves the great,
ingrossed by the formalities and fopperies of life, in
toxicated with vanity, pampered with adulation, dis
sipated in the tumult of business, or amidst the vi
cissitudes of folly, they perhaps have little need, and
little relish, for the consolations of religion .^ But
-Jet them know, that, in the solitary scenes of life,
there is many an honest and tender heart pining with
incurable anguish, pierced with -the sharpest sting of
disappointment, bereft of friends, chilled with po
verty, racked with disease, scourged by the oppres
sor ; whom nothing but trust in Providence, and the
-hope of a future retribution, could preserve from
the agonies of despair. And do they, with sacrile
gious hands, attempt to violate this last refuge of
the miserable, and to rob them of the only comfort
-that had survived the ravages of misfortune, malice,
and tyranny ! Did it ver happen, that the influence
of their execrable tenets disturbed the tranquillity of
virtuous retirement, deepened the gloom of human
distress, or aggravated the horrors of the grave ? Is
it possible, that this may have happened in many in
stances? Is it probable, that this hath happened, or
may happen, in one single instance ? Ye traitors to
human kind, ye murderers of the human soul, how
can ye answer for it to your own hearts ! Surely every
spark of your generosity is extinguished for ever,
.if this consideration do not awaken in you the keen
est remorse, and make you wish in bitterness or
.soul But I remonstrate iu vain. All this must
CHAP. II. AN. ESSAY ON TRUTH. 321
have often occurred to you, and been as often reject
ed as utterly frivolous. Could I inforce the present
topic by an appeal to your vanity, I might possibly
make some impression : but to plead with you on
the principles of benevolence or generosity, is to ad
dress you in language ye do not, or will not under
stand ; and as to the shame of being convicted of ab
surdity, ignorance, and want of candour, ye have
long ago proved yourselves superior to the sense of
it.
Bat let not the lovers of truth be discouraged :
Atheism cannot be of long continuance, nor is there
much danger of its becoming universal. The in
fluence of some conspicuous characters has brought
it too much into fashion ; which, in a thoughtless
and profligate age, it is no difficult matter to accom
plish. But when men have retrieved the powers of
serious reflection,, they will find it a frightful phan-
torn ; and the mind will return gladly and eagerly to
its old endearments. One thing we certainly know;
the fashion of sceptical and metaphysical systems
soon passeth away. Those unnatural productions,
the vile effusion of a hard and stupid heart, that
mistakes its own restlessness for the activity of ge
nius, and its own captiousness for sagacity of under
standing, may, like other monsters, please a while
by their singularity ; but the charm is soon over ;
and the succeeding age will be astonished to hear,
that their forefathers were deluded,, or amused, with
such fooleries. The measure of scepticism seems
indeed to be full ; it is time for truth to vindicate
her rights, and we trust they shall yet be complete
ly vindicated. Such are the hopes and the earnest
wishes of one, who has seldom made controversy his
study, who never took pleasure in argumentation,
and who disclaims all ambition of being reputed a
subtle disputant , but who, as a friend to human na
ture, would account it his honour to be instrumental
324 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III.
in promoting, though by means unpleasant to him
self, the cause of virtue and true science, and in
bringing to contempt that sceptical sophistry whieh
is equally subversive of both.
POSTSCRIPT.
POSTSCRIPT.
November, 1770.
read and criticise the modern systems of scepticism
is so disagreeable a task, that nothing but a regard to
duty could ever have determined me to engage in it. I
found in them neither instruction nor amusement j I wrote
against them with all the disgust that one feels in wrang
ling with an unreasonable adversary j and I published
what I had written, with the certain prospect of raising
many enemies, and with such an opinion of my performance,
as allowed me not to entertain any sanguine hopes of suc
cess. I thought it however possible, nay, and probable
too, that this book mightdo good. I knew thatit contained
some matters of importance, which, if I was not able to
set them in the best light, might however, by my means,
be suggested to others more capable to do them justice.
Since these papers were first published, I have laid my
self out to obtain information of what has been said of
them, both by their friends, and by their enemies j hoping
to profit by the censures of the latter, as well as by the
admonitions of the former. I do not hear, that any person
has accused me of misconceiving or misrepresenting my
adversaries doctrine. Again and again have I requested
it of those whom I know to be masters of the whole con
troversy, to give me their thoughts freely on this point j
and they have repeatedly told. me, that, in their judgment,
nothing of this kind can be laid to my. charge.
Most of the objections that have been made I had fore
seen, and, as I thought, sufficiently obviated by occasional
remarks in the course of the essay. Eat, in regard to
some of them, I fin d it necessary now to be more particu
lar. I wish to give the fullest satisfaction to every can
did mind : and I am sure I do not, on these subjects, en
tertain a single thought which I need to be ashamed QE
afraid to lay be-fore the public.
324 AN ESSAT ON TRUTH. J. s
I have been much blamed * for entering so warmly
into this controversy. In order to prepossess the minds of
those who had notread this performance, with an unfavour
able opinion of it, and of its author, insinuations have been
made, and carefully helped about, that it treats only of
some abstruse points of speculative metaphysics j which,
however, I am accused of having discussed, or attempted
to discuss, with all the zeal of the most furious bigot^
mdulging myself in an indecent vehemence of language,
and uttering the most rancorous invectives against those
who differ from me in opinion. Much, on this occasion,
has been s?Jd in praise of moderation and scepticism ^ mo
deration, the source of candour, good-breeding, and good
nature j and scepticism, the child of impartiality, and the
parent of humility. When men believe with full convic
tion, nothing, it seems, is to be expected from them but
bigotry and bitterness : when they suffer themselves in
their niquiries to be biassed by partiality, or w r armed with
affection they are philosophers no longer, but revilers and
enthusiasts ! If this were a just account of the matter and
manner of the Essay on Truth, I should not have the face
fcven to attempt an apology j for were any person guilty
of the fault here complained of, I myself should certainly
be one of the first to condemn him.
In the whole circle of human sciences, real or pretended,
there is not any thing to be found which I think more
perfectly contemptible than the speculative metaphysics
of the moderns. It is indeed a most wretched medley of
ill-digested notions, indistinct perceptions, inaccurate ob
servations, perverted language, and sophistical argument j
distinguishing where there is no difference, and confounding
Vv here there is no similitude; feigning difficulties where it
cannot find them, and overlooking them when real. I
know no end that the study of such jargon can answer,
except. to harden and stupify the heart, bewilder the un-
* In justice to the public I must here observe, that the clamour
against me on account of this book, however loud and alarming at
tirst, appears now to have been raised and propogatad by a feiiu
ficnons of a particular party in Scotland; and to huve owed its rise to
prejudice, and its progress to defamation ; to engines of malignity
which an honest man would be much more sorry to see employed
for him than agajust him.
K sv Atf ESSAY ON TRUTH; 325
derstanding, sour the temper, and habituate the mi^id to
irresolution, captiousness, and falsehood. For studies of
this sort I have neither time nor inclination, I have neither
head nor heart. To enter into them at all, is foolish ; to
enter into them with warmth, ridiculous j but to treat those
with any bitterness, whose judgments concerning them
may difter from ours, is in a very high degree odous and
criminal. Thus far, then, my adversaries and I are agreed*.
Had the sceptical philosophers confined themselves to
those inoffensive wranglings that shew only the subtlety
and captiousness of the disputant, but affect not the prin
ciples of human conduct, they never would have found an
opponent in me. My passion for writing is not
strong j and my love of controversy so weak, that if
it could always be avoided with a safe conscience, I
would never engage in it at all. But when doctrines are
published subversive of morality and religion ^ dotrines, of
which I perceive and have it in my power to expose the
absurdity, my duty to the public forbids me to be silent j
especially when I see, that by the influence of fashion,
folly, or more criminal causes, those doctrines spread wider
and wider every day, diffusing ignorance, misery, and li
centiousness, wherever they prevail. Let us oppose the
torrent, though we should not be able to check it. The
zeal and example of the weak have often roused to action,
and to victory, the slumbering virtue of the strong.
* I likewise agree with my adversaries in this, thatscepti--
cism, where it tends to make men well-bred and good-
natured, and to rid them of pedantry and petulance, with
out doing individuals or society any harm, is an excellent
thing. And some sorts of scepticism there are, that really
have this tendency . In philosophy, in history, in politics,
yea, and even in theology itself, there are many points of
doubtful disputation, in regard to which a man s judgment
may lean to either of the sides, or hang wavering between
them, without the least inconvenience to himself, or others,
Whether pure space exists or how we come to form an
idea of it j whether all the objects of human reason may
be fairly reduced to Aristotle s ten categories ; whether
Hannibal, when he passed the Alps, had any vinegar in
his camp j whether Richard III. was as remarkable for
cruelty and a hump-back, as is commonly believed
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. B, Si.
whether Mary Queen of Scotland married Bothwell from
inclination, or from the necessity of her affairs j whether*
the earth is better peopled now than it was in ancient
times } whether public prayers should be recited from me
mory, or read : in regard to these and such like questions,
a little scepticism may be very very safe and very proper,
and I will never think the worse of a man for differing
from me in opinion. And if ever it should be my chance
to engage in controversy on such questions, I here pledge
myself to thr public, (absit invidia verbo !), that I w r ill
conduct the whole aiiair with the most exemplary coolness
of blood, ad lenity of language. I have always observed
that strong conviction is much more apt to breed strife
in matters of little moment, than in subjects of high im
portance. Not to mention (what I would willingly for
get) the scandalous contents that have prevailed in the
Christian w r orld about trilling ceremonies and points of
doctrine, I need only put the reader in mind of those learn
ed critics and annotators, Salmasius, Valla, and Scaliger,
who. in their squabbles about words, gave scope to such
rancorous animosity and virulent abuse, as is altogether
without example. In every case, where dogmatical belief
tends to harden the heart, or to breed prejudices incompa
tible with candour, humanity, and the love of truth, all
good men will be careful to cultivate moderation and
diffidence.
But there are other points, in regard to which a strong
conviction produces the best effects, and doubt and hesi
tation the worst : and these are the points that our sceptics
labour to subvert, rnd I to establish. That the human
soul is a real and permanent substance, that God is infi
nitely wise and good, that virtue and vice are essentially
different, that there is such a thing as truth, and that man
in many cases is capable of discovering it, are some of the
principles which this book is intended to vindicate from
the objections of scepticism. Attempts have been made
to persuade us, that there is no evidence of truth in any
science ; that the human understanding ought not to believe
any thing, but rather to remain in perpetual suspence be
tween opposite opinions j that it is unreasonable to believe
the Deity to be perfectly wise and good, or even to exist j
f, S* AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 327
that the soul of man has nothing permanent in its nature,
nor indeed any kind of existence distinct from its present
perceptions, which are continually changing, and will soon
be at an end. , and that moral distinctions are ambiguous
and artificial, depending rather on human caprice and
fashion, than on the nature of things, or the divine will.
This scepticism,, the reader will observers totally subver
sive of science, morality, and religion, both natural and
revealed. And this is the scepticism which I am blamed
for having opposed with warmth and earnestness.
I desire to know, what good effects this scepticism is like
ly to produce ? " It humbles," we are told, " our pride
** of understanding." Indeed ! And are they to be con
sidered as patterns of humility, who set the wisdom of all
former ages at nought, bid defiance to the common sense
of mankind, and say to the wisest and best men that ever
did honour to our nature, Ye are fools or hypocrites j we
only are candid, honest and sagacious ? Is this humility !
Should I be humble, if I were to speak and act in this
manner ! Every man of sense would pronounce me lost tor
all shame, an apostate from truth and virtue, an enemy to
human kind;} and my own conscience would justiiy the
censure.
And so, it seems that pride of understanding is inse
parable from the disposition of those who believe that they
have a soul, that there is a God, that virtue and vice are
essentially different, and that men are in some cases per
mitted to discern the difference between truth and false
hood ! Yet the gospel requires or supposes the belief of all
these points : the gospel also Commands us to be humble :
and the spirit and influence of the gospel have produced
the most perfect examples of that virtue that ever appeared
among men. A belieTer may be proud : but it is neither
his belief, nor what he believes, that can make him so for
both ought to teach him humility. To call in question^
and labour to subvert, those first principles of science, mo
rality and religion, which all the rational part of mankind
acknowledge, is indeed an indication of a proud and pre
sumptuous understanding : but does the sceptic lay this to
the charge of the believer ? I have heard of a thief, when
dose pursued, turning on his pursuers, and charging them
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH; P, s,
with robbery : but I do not think the example worthy a
philosopher s imitation.
The prevention of bigotry is said tobe anoth er of the
blessed effects of this modern scepticism. And indeed,
if sceptics would act consistently with their own principles,
there would be ground for the remark : for a man who be
lieves nothing at all", cannot be said to be blindly attached
to any opinion, except perhaps to this one, that nothing is
to be believed - ? in which, however, if he have any regard
to uniformity of character, he will take care not to be dog
matical, iiut it is well known to ail who have had any
opportunity of observing his conduct, that the sceptic re
jects those opinions only which the rest of mankind admit :
for that, in adhering to his own paradoxes, the most devot
ed anchorite, t-he most furious inquisitor, is not a greater
bigot than he. An ingenuous author has therefore, with
very good reason, made it one of the articles of the IrifidcPs
creed, That, " he believes in all unbelief *." Though a
late writer is a perfect sceptic in regard to the existence of
his soul and body, he is certain, that men have no idea of
power : though he has many doubts and difficulties about
the evidence of mathematical truth, he is quite positive
that his soul is not the same thing to day it was yesterday,.
and though he affirms that it is by an act of the human
understanding, that two and two have come to be equal to 1
four, yet he cannot allow, that to steal or to abstain from
stealing, to act, or to cease from action, is in the power o
any man. In reading sceptical books, I have often found,
that the strength of the author s attachment to his paradox,
is in proportion to its absurdity. If it deviates but a little
from common opinion, he gives himself but little trouble
about it } if it be inconsistent with universal belief, he con
descends to argue the matter, and to- bring what with him:
passes for a proof of it j if it be such as no man ever did or-
could believe, he is still more concerted of hi? proof, and
calls it a demonstration j, but if it is inconceivable, it is a
wonder if he does not take it for granted. Thus, that our
idea of extension is extended, is inconceivable, and in the
Treatise of Human Nature is taken for granted : that mat
ter exists only in the mind that perceives it, is what no
ever did or could believe r and the author of the
* Connoisseur, No. 9,
F. S. ESSAY ON TRUTH. 329
Treatise concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge , has
favoured the world with what passes among the fashionable
metaphysicians for a demonstration of it : that moral, in
tellectual, and corporeal virtues, are all upon the same
footing, is inconsistent with universal belief j avid a famous
Essayist has argued the matter at large, and would fain per
suade us, that he has proved it , though I do not recollect,
that he triumphs in .this proof as so perfectly irresistible, as
those by which he conceives himself to have annihilated
the idea of power, and exploded the existence and perma
nency of percipient substances. I will not say, however,
that this gradation holds universally. Sceptics, it must be
owned, bear a right zealous attachment to all their absur
dities, both greater and less. If they are most warmly in
terested in behalf of the former, it is, I suppose, because
they have had the sagacity to foresee, that those would
stand most in need of their countenance and protection.
We see how far scepticism may be said to prevent bi
gotry. It prevents all bigotry, and all strong attachment
on the side of truth and common sense j but in behalf of
its own paradoxes, it establishes bigotry the most implicit
and the most obstinate. It is true, that sceptics sometimes
tell us, that, however positively they may assert their doc
trines, they would not have us think them positive assertors
of any doctrine. Sextus Empiricus has done this j and
some too, if I mistake not, of our modem Pyrrhonists.
But common readers are not capable of such exquisite re
finement, as to believe, their author to be in earnest, and at
the same time not in earnest j as to believe, that when he
asserts some points with diffidence, and others with the ut
most confidence, he holds himself to be equally difndeat
of all.
There is but one way in which it is possible for a sceptic
to satisfy us, that he is equally doubtful of all doctrines.
He must assert nothing, lay down no principles, contradict
none of the opinions of other people, and advance none of
his own : in a word, he must confine his doubts to his own
breast, at least the grounds of his doubts ; or propose them
modestly and privately, not with a view tc make us change
our mind, but only to shew his ov n diffidence. For from
the moment that he attempts to obtrude them on the pub
lic, or on any individual, or even to represent the opinion
S3 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. ,p. S<
of others as less probable than his own, he commences a
dogmatist ; and is to be accounted more or less presumptuous,
according as his doctrine is more or less repugnant to com
mon sense, and himself more or less industrious to recom
mend it.
Though he were to content himself with urging objec
tions, without seeking to lay down any principle of his own,
which however is a degree of moderation that no sceptic
ever yet arrived at, we would not on that account pronounce
him an inoffensive man. If his objections have ever weak
ened the moral or religious belief of any one person, he has
injured that person in his dearest and most important con
cerns. They who know the value of true religion, and
have had any opportunity of observing its effects on them
selves or others, need not be told, how dreadful to a sen
sible mind it is, to be staggered in its faith by the cavils
of the infidel. Every person of common humanity, who
knows any thing of the heart of man, would shudder at the
thought of infusing scepticism into the pious Christian.
Suppose the Christian to retain his faith in spite of all ob
jections *, yet the confutation of these cannot fail to distress
him * ? and a habit of doubting, once begun, may, to
the latess hour of his life, prove fatal to his peace of
mind. Let no one mistake or misrepresent me : I am not
speaking of those points of doctrine which rational believers
allow- to be indifferent : I speak of those great and most
essential articles of faith j the existence of a Deity, infinitely-
wise, beneficitmt, and powerful ; the certainty of a future
state of retribution ; and the divine authority of the gospel.
These are the articles which some late authors labour with
all their might to overturn - 9 and these are the articles which
every person xvho loves virtue and mankind, would wish
to see ardently and zealously defended. Is it bigotry to
believe these sublime truths with full assurance of faith ?
I glory in such bigotry : I would not part with it for a
thousand worlds : I congratulate the man who is possessed
of it ; for, amidst all the vicissitudes and calamities of the
present state, that man enjoys an inexhaustible fund of con
solation, of wliich it is not m the power of fortune to de
prive him. Calamities, did I say ? The evils of a very
short life will not be accounted such by him who has *
F. S. AN ESSAY 0* TRtlTH.
near and certain prospect of a happy eternity; Will it be
said, that the firm belief of these divine truths did ever give
rise to ill-nature or persecution ? It will not be said, by any
person who is at all acquainted with history, or the human,
mind. Of such belief, when, sincere, and undebased by
criminal passions, meekness, benevolence, and forgiveness,
are the natural and necessary effects. There is not a book
on earth so favourable to all the kind, and all the sublime
affections, or so unfriendly to hatred and persecution, to
tyranny, injustice, and every sort of malevolence, as that
very gospel against which our sceptics entertain such a
rancorous antipathy. Of this they cannot be ignorant, if
they have ever read it ; for it breathes nothing throughout
but mercy, benevolence, and peace. If they have not read
it, they and their prejudices are as far below our contempt
as any thing so hateful can be : if they have, their pre
tended concern for the rights -of mankind is all hypocrisy
-and a lie. Nor need they attempt to frame an answer to
this accusation, till they have proved, that the morality of
the gospel is faulty or imperfect ? that virtue is not useful
to individuals, nor beneficial to society 3 that the evils of
life are most effectually alleviated by the extinction of all
hope , that annihilation is a much more encouraging pros
pect to virtue, than the certain view of eternal happiness j
that nothing is a greater check to vice, than a firm per
suasion that no punishment awaits it ; and that it is a con
sideration full of misery to a good man, when weeping on
the grave of a beloved friend, to reflect, that they shall
soon meet again in a better state, never to part any more.
Till the teachers and abettors of infidelity have proved
these points or renounced their pretensions to universal pa
triotism, their character is polluted with all the infamy that
can be implied in the appellation of Her and hypocrite.
I wonder at those men who charge upon Christianity
all the evils that superstition, avarice, sensuality, and the
love of power, have introduced into the Christian world ;
and then suppose, that these evils are to be prevented, not
by suppressing criminal passions, but by extirpating Chris
tianity, or weakening its influence. In fact, our religiom
supplies the only effectual means of suppressing these pa
sions, and so preventing the mischief complained of
Ee
33 ^ AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. P. S.
and tills it will ever be more or less powerful to accomplish,
according as its influence over the minds of men is greater
or less j and greater or less will its influence be, according
as its doctrines are more or less firmly believed. It was
not, because they were Christians, but because they chose
to be the avaricious and blood-thirsty slaves of an avari
cious and blood-thirsty tyrant, that Cortez and Pizzaro
perpetrated those diabolical cruelties in Peru and Mexico,
the narrative of which is insupportable to humanity. Had
they been Christians in anything but in name, they would
have loved their neighbour as themselves j and no man who
loves his neighbour as himself, will ever cut his throat or
roast him alive, in order to get at his money.
If zeal be warrantable on any occasion, it must be so in
the present controversy : for I know of no doctrines more
important in themselves, or more affecting to a sensible
mind, than those which the scepticism confuted in this book
tends to subvert. Bat why, it may be said, should zeal be
warrantable on any occasion ? The answer is easy : Be
cause on some occasions it is decent and natural. When a
man is deeply interested in his subject, it is not natural for
him to keep up -the appearance of as much coolness, as if
he were disputing about an indifferent matter : and what
ever is not natural is always offensive. Were he to hear
his dearest friends branded with the appellation of knaves
and ruffians, would it be natural, would it be decent, for
him to preserve the same indifference in his look, and soft
ness in his manner, as if he were investigating a truth in
conic sections, arguing about the cause of the Aurora
Borealis, or settling a point of ancient history ? Ought he
not to shew, by the sharpness as well as by the solidity of
his reply, that he -not only disavows, but detests the accu
sation ? Is there a man w hose indignation would not -kindle
ut such an insult ? Is there a man -who would be so much
overawed by any antagonist, as to conceal his indignation ?
Of such a man I shall only say, that I would not chuse
him for my friend. When our subject lies near our heart
cur language must be animated, or it will be worse than
lifeless j it will be affected and hypocritical. Now what
subject can He nearer the heart of a Christian, or of a man
than the existence and perfections of God, ajid the immor-
P. . AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 333
tality of tlie Human soul ? If he can not, if he ought not
to hear with patience the blasphemies belched by unthink
ing profligates in their common conversation, with what
temper ot mind will he listen or reply to the cool, insidu-
ous, and envenomed impieties of the deliberate Atheist !
Fy on it ! that I should need to write so long an apology
for being an enemy to Atheism and nonsense !
" But why engage in the controversy at all ? Let the
<{ infidel do his worst, and heap sophism on sophism, anil
44 rail, and blaspheme as long as he pleases j if your ich-
u gion be from God, or founded in reason, it cannot be
" overthrown. Why then give yourself or others any
" trouble with your attempts to support a cause, against
. which it is said that hell itself shall not prevail ?" This
objection has been made, and urged too with confidence.
It has just as much weight as the following. Why enact
laws against, or inflict punishment upon murderers ? Let
them do their worst, and stab, and strangle, and poison,
as much-.as they please, they will never be able to accom
plish the iinal extermination of the human species, no?
perhaps to depopulate a single province. Such idle talk
deserves no answer, or but a very short one. We do be
lieve, and therefore we rejoice, that our religion shall
flourish in spite of all the sophistry of malevolent men;
But is their sophistry the less wicked on that account ?
Does it not deserve to be punished with ridicule and con
futation ? Hsve we reason to hope, that a miracle will be
wrought to; save any- 1 individual f*om m-ndelity, .or even any.
believer frem those doubts and apprehensions which th
writings of infidels are intended to rai e ? , And is it not
worth our, while, is it not our duty, ought it not to be our
inclination, to endeavour to prevent such a calamity ? Nor
let us imagine that this is the business of the- clergy alone.
They, no doubt are best qualified for this service ; but we
of the laity who believe the gospel, are under the same ob
ligation to wish well, and according to our ability, to do
good to our fellow-creatures. For my own part, tho the
writing of this book had been a work of much greater dif
ficulty and labour than I found it to be, I would have
chearfully undertaken it, in the hope of being instrumental
in reclaiming even a single sceptic from his unhappy pre-
Ee 2
334 A N ESSAY ON TRUTH. P. s.
j-udices, or in preserving even a single believer from the
horrors oi scepticism. Tell me not, that those horrors have
EC existence. I know the contrary. Tell me not, that?
the good ends proposed can never in any degree be accom
plished by performances of this kind. Of this too I know
the contrary.
Suppose a set of men, subjects of the British government,
to publish books setting forth, That liberty, both civil and
religious, is an absurdity j that trial by juries, the Habeas
Corpus act, Magna Charta, and the Protestant religion, ar$
intolerable nuisances j and that Popery, despotism, and the
inquisition, ought immediately to be established through
out the whole British empire j suppose them to exhort their
countrymen to overturn, or at least to disregard our ex
cellent laws and constitution, and make a tender of their
souls and consciences to the Pope, and of their lives and
fortunes to the Grand Seignior y and suppose them to
write so cautiously as to escape the censure of the law, and
yet with plausibility sufficient to seduce many, and give
rise to much dissatisfaction, discord, and licentious practice,
equally fatal to the happiness of individuals and to the
public peace : With what temper would an Englishman
ot" sense and spirit set about confuting their principles ?
Would it be decent, or even pardonable, to handle such a
subject with coolness, or to behave with complaisance to
wards such adversaries ? jSuppose them to have specious
qualities, and to pass \vith their own party for men of can
dour, genius, and learning : yet the lover of liberty and
mankind would not, I presume, be disposed to pay them
any excessive compliments on that account, or on any other.
But suppose these political apostates to appear, in the
course of the controversy, chargeable with ignorance and
sophistical reasoning, with evasive and quibbling refine
ments, with misrepresentation of common facts, and mis
apprehension of common language, more attached to hy
pothesis thsn to the truth, preferring their own conceits to
the common sense of mankind, and seeking to gratify their
own exorbitant vanity and lust of paradox, though at the
expence of the happiness of millions : with what face
could their most abject flatterers, and most implicit ad-
juirers, cc-inplain of the severity of that antagonist who
P. S. AN ESSAY ON. TRUTH. 335
should treat both them and their principles with contempt
and indignation ? with what face urge in their defence, that,
though perhaps somewhat blameable on the present occa
sion, they and their works were notwithstanding intitled to
universal esteem, and the most respectful usage on account
of their skill in music, architecture, geometry, and the
Greek and Latin tongues ! On this account, would they
be in any lesa degree the pests of society, or the enemies
of mankind ? would their false reasoning be less sophistical,
their presumption less arrogant, or their malevolence less
atrocious ? Do not the men who, like Alexander, Mar-
chiavel, and the author of La Pucelle d Orleans, employ
their great talents in destroying and corrupting mankind,
aggravate ail their other crimes by the dreadful addition,
of ingratitude and breach of trust ? And are not their cha
racters, for this very reason, the more obnoxious to univer
sal abhorrence ? An illiterate blockhead in the Robinhood.
tavern, blaspheming the Saviour of mankind, or labouring
to confound the distinctions of vice and virtue, is a wicked
wretch, no doubt : but his wickedness admits of some sha
dow of excuse , he might plead his ignorance, his stupidi
ty, and the still moxe profligate lives and principles of those
whom the world, by a preposterous fig ve of speech, is
pleased to call his betters : but the men of parts and learn
ing, who join in the same infernal cry, are criminals of a
much higher order j for in their defence nothing can be
pleaded that will not aggravate their guilt.
My design in this book was, to give others the very
same notions of the sceptical philosophy that I myself en
tertain ; which I could riot possibly have done, if I had not
taken the liberty to deliver my thoughts plainly and with
out reserve. And truly I saw no reason- for being more
indulgent to the writings of sceptics, than to- those of other-
men. The taste of the public requires not any such extra
ordinary condescension. Jf ever it should, which is not
probable, we may then think it prudent to comply ; but,
as we scorn, in matters of such moment, to express our
selves by halves, we will then also throw pen and ink aside y
never to be resumed until we again find, that we may with,
safety write, and be honest at the &.one time.
&&*
336 AN ESS/iY ON TJIUTH. J. S.
Infidels take it upon them to treat religion and its
friends with opprobrious language, misrepresentation, un
deserved ridicule, and divers other sorts of abuse. Some
of them assert, with the most dogmatical assurance, what
they know to be contrary to the common sense of man
kind. All this passes for wit, and eloquence, and liberal
inquiry, and a manly spirit. But whenever the friends of
truth espouse, with warmth, that cause which they know
to be agreeable to common sense and universal opinion,,
this is called bigotry : and whenever the Christian vindi
cates, with earnestness, those principles which he believes
to be of the highest importance, and which he knows to be
rssential to tlie happiness of man, immeuiately he is charged
vvith want of moderation, want of temper, enthusiasm, and
the spirit of persecution. Far be it from the lover of truth
to imitate those authors in misrepresentation, or in en
deavouring to expose their adversaries to unmerited ridicule.
But if a man were to obtain a patent for vending poison ,
it would be very hard to deny his neighbour the privilege
of selling the antidote. If their zeal in spreading and re
commending their doctrines be suffered to pass without
censure, our zeal in vindicating ours has at least as good a
title to pass uncensured. If this is not allowed, I must
suppose, that the present race of iniidels, like the jure di-
vino kings, imagine themselves invested with some pecu
liar sanctity of character j that whatever they are pleased
to say is to be received as law and the fashion , and that
to contradict their will, or even address them without pro
stration, is indecent and criminal. I know not whence it
is that they assume these airs of superiority. Is it from
the high rank some of them hold in the world of letters ?
I would have them to know, that it is but a short time
rnce that high rank was either yielded to, or claimed by
such persons. Spinoza, Hobbes, Collins, Woolston, snd
the rest of that tribe, were within these forty or fifty years
accounted a very contemptible brotherhood. The great
geniuses of the last age treated them with little ceremony ;
and would not, I suppose, were they now alive, pay more
respect to imitators, copiers, and plagiaries, than they did
to the oiiginal authors. If the enemies of our religion
\VQuld profit by experience, they might learn, from the
?. s. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 337
fate of some of their most renowned brethren, that infi
delity, however fashionable and lucrative, is not the most
convenient field for a successful display of genius. Kver
since Voltaire, stimulated by avarice, and other dotages
incident to unprincipled old age, formed the scheme of
turning a penny by WTiting three or four volumes yearly
against the Christian religion, he has dwindled from a ge
nius of no common magnitude into a paltry book-maker j
and now thinks he does great and terrible things, by re
tailing the crude and long exploded notions of the free
thinkers of the last age, which, when seasoned with a few
mistakes, misrepresentations, and ribaldries of his own,
form such a mess of falsehood, impiety, obscenity, and other
abominable ingredients, as nothing but the monstrous maw
of an illiterate infidel can either digest or endure. Several
of our famous sceptics have lived to see the greatest part
of their profane tenets confuted. I hope, and earnestly
wish, that they may live to make a full recantation. Some
of them must have known, and many of them might have-
known, that their tenets were confuted before they adopt
ed them : yet did they adopt them notwithstanding, and.
display them to the world with as much confidence as if
nothing had ever been advanced on the other side. So
have I seen a testy and stubborn dogmatist, when all his
arguments were answered, and all. his invention exhausted^
comfort himself at last with simply repeating his former
positions at the end of each new remonstrance from the ad
versary.
They who are conversant in the works of tne sceptical
philosophers, know 7 very well, that those gentlemen do not
always maintain that moderation of style which might be
expected from persons of their profession j and if I thought
my conduct in this respect needed to be or could be, jus
tified by such a precedent, I might plead even their ex
ample as my apology. But I disclaim every plea that
such a precedent could afford me : I write not in the spirit
of retaliation ; and when I find myself inclined to be an
imitator, I will look out for other models. Indeed it is
hardly to be supposed, that I would take those for my pat
tern, whose talents I despise, whose writings I detest, and
whose principles and projects are so directly opposite to
AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. F. S*
mine. Their writings tend to subvert the foundations of
human knowledge, to poison the sources of human happi
ness, and to overturn that religion which the best and
wisest of men have believed to be of divine original, and
which every good man, who understands it, must reverence
as the greatest blessing ever conferred upon the human;
race. I write with ?.<. view to counteract those tendencies,.
by vindicating some fundamental articles of religion and
science from the sceptical objections, and by shewing, that
no man can attempt to disprove the first principles of know
ledge without contradicting himself. To the common
sense of mankind, they scruple not to oppose their own
conceits, as if they judged these to be more worthy of
eredit than any other authority, human or divine. I urge
nothing with any degree of confidence or fervour, in which
I have not good reason to think myself warranted by the
common sense of mankind. Does their cause, then, or.
does mine, deserve the warmest attachment ? Have they,
or have I, the most need to guard -against vehemence of
expression * ? As certainly as the happiness of mankind
is a desirable object, so certainly is my cause good, and
theirs evil.
To conclude : Liberty of speech and writing is one of
those high privileges that distinguish Great Britain from
all other nations. Every good subject wishes, "that it may
be preserved to the latest posterity j and would be sorry
to see the civil power interpose to check the progress of
rational inquiry. Nay, when inquiry ceases to be rational,
and becomes both whimsical and pernicious, advancing as
far as some late authors have carried k, to controvert the
first principles of knowledge, morality and religion, and
* " There is no satisfying the demands of false delicacy," says an
elegant and pious author, because they are rot regulated by any
fixed standard. But a man of candour and judgment will allow,
that the bashful timidity practised by those who put themselves on
a level with the adversaries of religion, would ill become one who,
declining all disputes, asserts primary truths on the authority of
common sense ; and that whoever pleads the caute of religion in
( this way, has a right to assume a firmer tone, and to pronounce
1 with a more decisive air, not upon the strength of his own juclg-
* ment, but on the reverence, due from all mankind to the tribunal
" to which he appeals."
Appeal In bcbatf of rclig on, f>. 14.
f s* AN ESSAY ON TRUTH.
consequently the fundamental laws of the British govern
ment, and of all well-regulated society , even then, it must
do more hurt than good to oppose it with the arm of flesh.
I 1 or persecution and. punishment for the sake of opinion,.
seldom fail to strengthen the party they are intended to
suppress j and when opinions are combated by such wea
pons only, (which would probably be the case if the law
were to interpose), a suspicion arises in the minds of men,
that no other weapons are to be had j and therefore that
the sectary, though destitute of power, is not wanting in
argument. Let opinions then be combated by reason, and
let ridicule be employed to expose nonsense. And to keep
our licentious authors in awe, and to make it their interest
to think before they write, to examine facts before they
draw inferences, to read books before they criticise them,,
and to study both sides of a question before they take it ,
upon them to give judgment, it would not be amiss, if
their vices and follies, as authors, were sometimes chastised
by a satirical seventy of expression. This is a proper pu
nishment for their fault j this punishment they certainly
deserve j and this it is not beneath the dignity of a philo
sopher, or divine, or any man who loves God and his fel
low-creatures, to inflict. Milton, Locke, Cudworth, Sid
ney, Tillotson, and several of the greatest and best writers
of the present age, have set the example j and have, I
doubt not, done good by their nervous and animated ex
pression, as well as by the solidity of their arguments.
This punishment, if inflicted with discretion, might teach
our licentious authors something of. modesty, and of de
ference to the judgment of mankind ; and, it is to be hoped,,
would in time bring down that spirit of presumption, and
affected superiority, which hath of late distinguished their
writings, and contributed, more perhaps than all their sub
tlety and sophistry, to the seduction of the ignorant, the
unwary, and the fashionable. It is true, the best of causes
may be pleaded with an excess of warmth ; as when the
advocate is so blinded by his zeal as to lose sight of his
argument j or as when, in order to render his adversaries
odious, he alludes to such particulars of their character or
private history as are not to be gathered from their writ
ings. The former fault never fails to injure the cause
34 AW ESSAY ON TRUTH. P. S.
which the writer means to defend : the latter, xvhich is
properly termed personal abuse, is in itself so hateful, that
every person of common prudence would be inclined to a-
void it for his own sake, even though he were not restrained
by more weighty motives. If an author s writings be sub
versive of virtue, and dangerous to private happiness, and
the public good, we ought to hold them in detestation, and,
in order to counteract their baneful tendency, to endeavour
to render them detestable in the eyes of others - ? thus far
\ve act the part of honest men, and good citizens : but
with his private history we have r.o concern j. nor with his
character, except in so far as he has thought proper to sub
mit it to the. public judgment, by displaying it in hi
works. When these are of that peculiar sort, that we
cannot expose them in their proper colours, without reflec
ting on his abilities and moral character, we ought by no
means to sacrifice our lore of truth and mankind to a com
plaisance which, if we are what we pretend to be, andoughfc
to be, would be hypocritical at best, as well as mocker/
of the public, and treichery to our cause. The good of
society is always to be considered as a matter of higher
importance than the gratification of an author s vanity. If
he does not think of this in time, and take care that the
latter be consistent with the former, he has himself to
blame for all the consequences. Trie severity of Collier s
attack upon the stage, in the end of the last century, was^
even in the judgment of one * who thought it excessive,
and who will not be suspected of partiality to that author s
doctrine, productive of very good effects ; as it obliged the
succeeding dramatic poets to curb that propension to in
decency, which had carried some of their predecessors so
far beyond the bounds of good taste and good manners;
If xre are not permitted to answer the objections of the in
fidel as plainly, and with as little reserve as he makes
them, we engage him on unequal terms. And many will
be disposed to think most favourably- of that cause, whose
adherents display the greatest ardour ; and some, perhaps;
may be tempted to impute to timidity, or to a secret dif
fidence o r our principles, what might have been owing to
a much more pardonable weakness. Nay, if we pay our
* Colley Gibber, See his Apology, vol. i.-p.-2oi.
f. . AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 34,1
sceptical adversaries their full demand of compliment and
adulation ; and magnify their genius and virtue, while we
confute their atheistical and nonsensical sophisms ; and
speak with as much respect of their pitiful conceits and
flimsy wrangli.ngs, as of the sublimest discoveries in phi
losophy j is there not reason to fear that our writings will
do little or no service ? For, may not some of our readers
question our sincerity ? May not many of them continue
the admirers and dupes of the authors whom we seem so
passionately to admire, and whose merit will not appear
to them the less conspicuous that it is acknowledged by an
avowed antagonist ? And, lastly, will not the adversaries
themselves, more gratified than hurt by such a confutation,
because more ambitious of applause, than concerned for
truth, rejoice in their fancied superiority j and, finding
their books become every day more popular and marketable
by the consequence we give them, be encouraged to per
sist in their malevolent and impious career ?
For my own part, though I have always been, and shall
always be, happy in applauding excellence wherever I
find it j yet neither the pomp of wealth nor the dignity of
office, neither the frown of the great nor the sneer of the fa
shionable, neither the sciolist s clamour nor the profligate s
resentment, shall ever sooth or frighten me into an admi
ration, real or pretended, of impious tenets, sophistical rea
soning, or that paltry metaphysic with which literature has
been so disgraced and pestered of late years, I am not
so much addicted to controversy, as ever to enter into any
but what I judge to be of very great importance : and in
to such controversy I cannot, I will not enter with cold
ness and unconcern. If I should, I might please a party,
but I must offend the public j I might escape the censure
of those whose praise I would not value j but I should
justly forfeit the esteem of good men, and incur the disap
probation of my own conscience.
THE END.
Thomas Turnbull, Printer,
Edinburgh.
*
Seattle, James
14-03 An essay on the nature
B53E68 and immutability of truth
1B05 6th ed.
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