Essays on the intellectual powers of man

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ESSAYS

ON THE

INTELLECTUAL POWERS
OF MAN.

By THOMAS REID, D. D. F. R. S. E.

PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY

IN TH!£ UNIVERSITY OT CI.ASGOW*

fV/io hath put luifdom in the invjard parts P Job.

VOL. II.

DUBLIN:
Printed for I,. WHITE, No* 86, D a m s -S t r e i t.

M,DCC,I,XXXVI,

r iii Jl

CONTENT S,

VOL. II.

ESSAY IV. OF CONCEPTION.

Fage

Chap. i. X)/ conception, or Jimple apprehenjion in general, i

I 2. Theories concerning conception, — 27

3. Mijiakes concerning conception, — 47

■11 4. Of the train of thought in the mind, 59

ESSAY V. OF ABSTRACTION.

Chap. i. Of general ivords, — — 19

2. Of general conceptions, — — 97

■i 3. Of general conceptions formed by analyfng ob-

jeds, — — 106

» 4. Of general conceptions formed By combination, 1x9
— — 5. Obfer'vations concerning the names gifven to

our general notions, — 137

I 6. Opinion of Philofophers about univerfals, 143

ESSAY VI. OF JUDGMENT.

Chap. i. Of judgment in general, — 168

■ - 2. Of common fenfe, — — 1 95

I 3. Sentiment of Philofophers concermng judgment, 211

4. Of firfi principles in general, — 23S

5. Uhefjrji principles of contingent truths, 262

6. Hr^ principles ofnecefjary truth, — 296

• 7. Opinions ancient and modern abont firfl prin-
ciples, — — 329

8. Of prejudices, the caufes of err or , 351

ESSAY VII. OF REASONING.

Chap. i. Of reafoning in general, andof demonflratlon, 373

2. Whether m9rality be capable of demmjiration, 382

Chap,

vr

CONTENTS.

Page.
Ckap. 3. Of probable reafoningy — 394

... ■ 4. Of Mr. Hume's fcepticifm "joith regard to

reafott, — — 404

ESSAY Vm. OF TASTE.

Chap. 1. Of taf^e in general, — — 421

> 2. Of the objeds of tajle, and firji of novelty^ 430

3- Pf gr^f'^^'ry — — 435

— — 4. Of beauty, — — 448

ESSAYS

O N T H E

INTELLECTUAL POWERS OF MAN.

ESSAY IV.
OF CONCEPTION.

CHAP. L

Of Conception^ or ftmple Apprehefifion in
General.

CONCEIVING, imagining, apprehend-C H A P.
ing, underftanding, having a notion of a
thing, are common words ufed to exprefs that '
operation of the underftanding, which the Lo-
gicians (:2l\\ ftmple apprehenfion. The having an
idea of a thing, is in common language ufed
in the fame fenfe, chiefly I think fmce Mr.
Lo-cke's time.

Logicians define fimple apprehenfion to be
ttie bare conception of a thing without any
judgment or belief about it. If this were in-
tended for a ftridly logical definition, it might
be a juft objection to it, that conception and
Vol. II. B appre-

2 E S S A y IV.

CHAP, apprehenfion are only fynonymous words ; and
^- . that we may as wdl define conception by ap-
prehenfion^ as apprehenfion by conception ;
but it oaght to be remembered, that the
moll fimple operations of the mind cannot
be logically defined. To have a diflinO: no-
tion of them, we muft attend to them as we
feel them in our own minds. He that would
have a diilin^: notion of a fcarlet colour, will
never attain it by a definition ; he muft fet it
before his eye, attend to it, compare it with
the colours that come nearefi: to it, and ob-
ferve the fpecific difference, which he will in
vain attempt to define.

Every man is confcious that he can conceive
a thoufand things, of which he believes nothing
at all ; as a horfe with wings, a mountain of
gold ; but although conception may be with-
out any degree of belief, even the fmalleft be-
lief cannot be without conception. He that
believes, muft have fome conception of what
he believes.

Without attempting a definition of this ope-
ration of the mind, I ihall endeavour to ex-
plain fome of its properties ; confider the theo-
ries about it ; and take notice of fome mif-
takes of Philofophers concerning it.

1. It may be obferved, that conception en-
ters as an insjredient in every operation of the
mind : Our fenfes cannot give us the belief of
any object, without giving fome conception of
it at the fame time : No man can either re-
member or reafon about things of which he
hath no conception : When we will to exert
any of our adlive powers, there muft be fome
conception of what we will to do : There can be
no defire nor averfion, love nor hatred, with-
. out fome conception of the objed : We cannot

feel

Of Simple Apprehension in General. 3

feel pain without conceiving It, though we can CHAP,
conceive it without feeling it. Thefe things
are felf-evident.

In every operation of the mind therefore, in
every thing we call thought there muft be con-
ception : When we analyfe the various ope-
rations either of the underftanding or of the
will, we fhall always find this at the bottom,
like the caput mortuum of the Chemiils, or the
materia prima of the Peripatetics ; but though
there is no operation of mind without concep-
tion, yet it may be found naked, detached
from all others, and then it is called fimple
apprehenfion, or the bare conception of a
thing.

As all the operations of our mind are ex-
prefled by language, every one knows, that it
is one thing to underftand what is faid, to con-
ceive or apprehend its meaning, whether it be
a word, a fentence, or a difcourfe \ it is ano-
ther thing to judge of it, to aflent or diffent,
to be perfuaded or moved. The firfl is fimple
apprehenfion, and may be without the laft,
but the lalt cannot be without the firft.

2. In bare conception there can neither be
truth nor falfehood, becaufe it neither affirms
nor denies. Every judgment, and every pro-
pofition by which judgment is exprelTed, muft
be true or falfe ; and the qualities of true and
falfe, in their proper fenfe, can belong to no-
thing but to judgments, or to propofitions
which exprefs judgment. In the bare concep-
tion of a thing there is no judgment, opinion,
or belief included, and therefore it cannot be
either true or falfe.

But it may be faid. Is there any thing more

certain than that men may have true or falfe

B 2 conceptions,

4 E S S A Y IV.

CHAP, conceptions, true or falfe apprehenfions, of
^ things ? I anfwer, that fuch M^ays of fpeaking
are indeed fo common, and fo well authorifed
by cufiom, the arbiter of language, that it
would be prcfumption to cenfure them. It is
hardly poflible to avoid ufmg them. But we
ought to be upon our guard that we be not
milled by them, to confound things, which,
though often expreifed by the fame words, are
really ditferent. V\ c muft therefore remember
what v/as before obferved, Effay I. chap. i.
That all the words, by which we Signify the
bare conception of a thing, are likewife ufed to
fignify our opinions, when we wilh to exprefs
them with modefty and diffidence. And we
(hall always find, that, when we fpeak of true
or falfe conceptions, we mean true or falfe
opinions. An opinion, though ever fo waver-
ing, or ever fo modeftly expreifed, muft be ei-
ther true or falfe ; but a bare conception,
which expreffcs no opinion or judgment,, can
be neither.

If we analyfe thofe fpeeches, in which men
attribute truth or falfchood to our conceptions
of things, we Ihail find in every cafe, that there
is fome opinion or judgment implied in what
they call conception. A child conceives the
moon to be fiat, and a foot or two broad ; that
is, this is his opinion : And when we fay it is
a fal!'e notion, or a falfe conception, we mean
that it is a falfe opinion. He conceives the
city of London to be like his country village ;
that is, he believes it to be fo, till he is better
inftruifted. He conceives a lion to have horns ;
that IS, he believes that the animal which men
call a lion, has horns. Such opinions language
authoriies us to call conceptions ; and they

may

Of Simple Apprehension in General. 5

may be true or falfe. But bare conception, C H A P.
or what the Logicians call fimple apprehenfion, ^•
implies no opinion, however flight, and there-
fore can neither be true nor falfe.

What Mr. Locke fays of ideas (by which
word he very often means nothing but concep-
tions) is very jufl, when the word idea is fo un-
derftood, book 2. chap. 31. § i. " Though
*' truth and falfehood, belong in propriety of
" fpeech only to propofitions, yet ideas are
" often termed true or falfe (as what words are
" there that are not ufed with great latitude,
'* and with fome deviation from their ftrict and
" proper fignification) ; though I think, that
" when ideas themfelves are termed true or
** falfe, there is Hill fome fecret or tacit propo-
" fition, which is the foundation of that deno-
" mination ; as we fhall fee, if we examine
" the particular occafions wherein they come
" to be called true or falfe ; in all v.'hich we
" fhall find fome kind of affirmation or nega-
" tion, which is the reafon of that denomina-
" tion : For our ideas being nothing but bare
" appearances, or perceptions in our minds,
" cannot properly and fimply in themfelves be
" faid to be true or falfe, no more than a fim-
*' pic name of any thing can be faid to be
" true or falfe."

It may be here obferved by the way, that in
this paffage, as in many others, Mr. Locke
ufes the word perception, as well as the word
idea, to fignify what I call conception, or fim-
ple apprehenfion. And in his chapter upon
perception, book 2. chap. 9. he ufes it in the
fame fenfc. Perception, he fays, " as it is the
" firfl faculty of the mind, exercifed about

" our

6 E S S A Y IV.

CHAP." our Ideas ; fo it is the firft and fimpleft idea
^- " we have from refleftion, and is by fome

' "^ ' " called thinking in general. It feems to be
" that which puts the diflinclion betwixt the
" animal kingdom and the inferior parts of
" nature. It is the firft operation of all our
" faculties, and the inlet of all knowledge
" into our minds."

Mr. Locke has followed the example given
by Des Cartes, Gassendi, and other Car-
tcfians, in giving the name of perception to the
bare conception of things : And he has been
followed in this by Bifliop Berkeley, Mr.
Hume, and many late Philofophers, when
they treat of ideas. They have probably been
led into this impropriety, by the common
doctrine concerning ideas, which teaches us,
that conception, perception by the fenfes, and
memory, are only different ways of perceiving
ideas in our own minds. If that theory be well
founded, it will indeed be very difficult to find
any fpecific diflinclion between conception and
perception. But there is reafon to diftruft any
philofophical theory, when it leads men to
corrupt iangu;\ge, and to confound, under
one name, operations of the mind, which
common fenfe and common language teach
them to diilinguiih.

I grant that there are fome flates of the
mind, wherein a man may confound his con-
ceptions with what he perceives or remembers,
and miftake the one for the other ; as, in the
delirium of a fever, in fome cafes of lunacy
and of madnefs, in dreaming, and perhaps in
fome momentary tranfports of devotion, or of
other ftrong emotions, which cloud his intel-
lectual

X)f Simple AppreheInsion in General. 7

Icdual faculties, and for a time carry a man^ HAP.
out of himfelf, as we ufually exprefs it. ^^-^i^

Even in a fober and found fhate of mind,
the memory of a thing may be fo very weak,
that we may be in doubt whether v/e only
dreamed or imagined it.

It may be doubted, whether children, when
their imagination firfl begins to work, can
diftinguifh what they barely conceive from
what they remember. I have been told by a
man of knowledge and obfervation, that one
of his fons, when he began to fpeak, very of-
ten told lies with great affurance, without
any intention, as far as appeared, or any con^
fcioufnefs of guilt. From which the father
concluded, that it is natural to fome children
to lie. I am rather inclined to think, that the
child had no intention to deceive, but miftook
the rovings of his own fancy, for things which
he remembered. This, however, I take to be
very uncommon, after children can commu-
nicate their fentiments by language, though
perhaps not fo in a more early period.

Granting all this,, if any man will affirm,
that they whofe intelledual faculties are found,
and fober, and ripe, cannot with certainty
diflinguifli what they perceive or remember,
from what they barely conceive, when thofe
operations have any degree of flrength and
diftinftnefs, he may enjoy his opinion ; I
know not how to reafon with him. Why
fhould Philofophers confound thofe operations
in treating of ideas, when they would be
afhamed to do it on other occafions ? To dif-
tinguifh the various powers of our minds^ a
certain degree of underflanding is neceifary :
And if fome, through a defe<ft of underfland-

8 E S S A Y IV.

C H A P-ing, natural or accidental, or from unrlpenefs
^- of underftanding, may be apt to confound
'""'^''^ difi'ercnt powers, will it follow that others
cannot clearly diftinguifti them ?

To return from this digreffion, into which
the abufe of the word perception, by Philofo-
phers, has led me, it appears evident, that
the bare conception of an obje;£t, which in-
cludes no opinion or judgment, cajfl neither
be true nor falfe. Thofe qualities, in their
proper fenfe, are altogether inapplicable to
this operation of the mind.

3. Of all the analogies between th^ operatir
ons of body and thofe of the mind, the^e is
none fo flrong and fo obvious to aU mankind
as that which there is between painting, of
other plaflic arts, and the power of conceiving
objeds in the mind. Hence in all languages,
the words, by which this power of the mind
and its various modifications are expreffed,
arc analogical, and borrowed from thofe arts.,
We confider this power of the mind as a plaf-
tic power, by which we form to ourfelves ima-
ges of the objefts cf thought.

In vain fhould we attempt to avoid this ana-
logical language, for we have no other lan-
guage upon the fubjeft ; yet it is dangerous,
and apt to miflead. All analogical and figu-
rative words have a double meaning ; and, if
we are not very much upon our guard, we
Aide infenfibly from the borrowed and figura-
tive meaning into the primitive. We are
prone to carry the parallel between the things
compared farther than it will hold, and thus
v-ery naturally to fall into error.

To avoid this as far as poffible in the prefent
fubje<^, it is proper to attend to the dilfimili-

tude

Of Simple Apprehension in General. 9

tude between conceiving a thing in the niind,^ HAP.
and painting ir to the eye, as wvU as to their y^^,^^
fimilitude. The fimilitude Itrikes and gives
pleafure. The diflimilitude we are lefs difpo-
led to obferve. But the Philofopher ought to
attend to it, and to carry it always in mind,
in his reafonings on this fubjeft, as a moni*
tor, to warn him againft the errors into which
the analogical language is apt to draw him.

When a man paints, there is fome work
done, which remains when his hand is taken
off, and continues to exift, though he ihould
think no more of it. Every ftroke of his pen-
cil produces an effect, and this effect is diffe-
rent from his aQion in making it ; for it re-^
mains and continues to exift when the adion
ceafes. The action of painting is one thing,
the picture produced is another thing. The
firft is the caufe, the fecond is the effedt.

Let us next confider what is done when he
only conceive? this picture. He muft have
conceived it before he painted it : For this is
a maxim univerfally admitted, that every
work of art muft firft be conceived in the mind
of the operator. What is this conception ?
It is an aft of the mind, a kind of thought.
This cannot be denied. But does it produce
any effect befides the aft itfelf ? Surely com-
mon fenfe anfwers this queftion in the negar
live : For every one knows, that it is one
thing to conceive, another thing to bring forth
into effeft. It is one thing to projeft, another
to execute. A man may think for a long time
what he is to do, and after all do nothing.
Conceiving as well as projefting or refolving,
are what the fchoolmen called hiwianent afts of
the mind, which produce nothing beyond

themfelves.

lo ESSAY IV.

CHAP, themfelves. But painting is a tranfitive a6b,
_ which produces an effect diftin£t from the ope-
ration, and this effefl: is the pifture. Let this
therefore be always remembered, that what is
commonly called the image of a thing in the
mind, is no more than the act or operation of
the mind in conceiving it.

That this is the common fenfe of men who
are untutored by philofophy, appears from
their language. If one ignorant of the lan-
guage fhould afl^. What is meant by conceiv-
ing a thing ? we fhould very naturally anfwer.
That it is having an image of it in the mind ;
and perhaps we could not explain the word
better. This fliows, that conception, and the
image of a thing in the mind, are fynonymous
expreffions. The image in the mind, there-
fore, is not the objed of conception, nor is
it any effeft produced by conception as a
caufe. It is conception itfelf. That very mode
of thinking, which we call conception, is by
another name called an image in the mind.

Nothing more readily gives the conception of
a thing than the feeing an image of it. Hence,
by a figure common in language, conception is
called an image of the thino- conceived. But
to fhow that it is not a real but a metaphorical
image, it is called an image in the mind. We
know nothing that is properly in the mind but
thought ; and when any thing elfe is faid to be
in the mind, the expreilion muft be figurative,
and fignify fome kind of thought.

I know that Philofophers very unanimoufly
maintain, that in conception there is a real
image in the mind, which is the immediate ob-
ject of conception, and diflind: from the ad of*
conceiving it. I beg the reader's indulgence

to

0/" Simple Apprehension in General. ii

to defer what may be faid for or againfl: this CHAP,
philofophical opinion to the next chapter ; in- ^•
tending in this only to explain what appears to
me to belong to this operation of mind, w ith-
out confidering the theories about it. I think
it appears from what has been faid, that the
common language of thofe who have not im-
bibed any philofophical opinion upon this fub-
jedl, authorifes us to underfiand the conception
of a things and an image of it in the mind^ not
as two different things, but as two different
expreflions, to fignify one and the fame thing ;
and I wifii to ufe common words in their com-
mon acceptation.

4. Taking along with us what is faid in the
laft article, to guard us againfl the fedu£lion
of the analogical language ufed on this fubje6t,
we may obferve a very ftrong analogy, not
only between conceiving and painting in ge-
neral, but between the different kinds of our
conceptions, and the different works of the
painter. He either makes fancy pidures, or
he copies from the painting of others, or he
paints from the life ; that is, from real objeds
of art or nature which he has feen. I think
our conceptions admit of a divifion very fimi-
lar.

Firft^ There are conceptions which may be
called fancy pictures. They are commonly
called creatures of fancy, or of imagination.
They are not the copies of any original that
exifts, but are originals themfelves. Such was
the conception which Swift formed of the if-
land of Laputa and of the country of the Lil-
liputians ; Cervantes of Don Quixote and
his Squire ; Harrington of the government
of Oceana \ and Sir Thomas More of that

of

12 E S S A Y IV.

CHAP, of Utopia. We can give names to fuch crea-
tures of imagination, conceive them diftin£tly,
^^^^ and reafon confequentially concerning them,
though they never had an exiftence. They
were conceived by their creators, and may be
conceived by others, but they never exifted.
We do not afcribe the qualities of true or falfe
to them, becaufe they are not accompanied
with any belief, nor do they imply any affir-
mation or negation.

Setting afide thofe creatures of imagination,
there are other conceptions, which may be
called copies, becaufe they have an original or
archetype to which they refer, and with which
they are believed to agree ; and we call them
true or falfe conceptions, according as they
/ agree or difagree with the ftandard to which

they are referred. Thefe are of two kinds,
which have different flandards or originals.

The jirjl kind is analogous to pictures taken
from the life. We have conceptions of indivi-
dual things that really exift , fuch as the city of
London, or the government of Venice. Here
the things conceived are the originals ; and
our conceptions are called true when they agree
with the thing conceived. Thus, my con-
ception of the city of London is true when I
conceive it to be vvhat it really is.

Individual things which really exift, being
the creatures of God, (though fome of them
may receive their outward form from man,)
he only who made them knows their whole na-
ture ; we know them but in part, and there-
fore our conceptions of them mufl in all cafes
be.imperfedl and inadequate ; yet they may be
true, aad juft, as far as they reach.

The

Of Simple Apprkhension in General. 13

The fecond kind is analogous to the copiesC HAP.
which the painter makes from pidures done ^•
before. Such I think are the conceptions vve^"
have of ^^hac the ancients called univtrfals ;
that is, of things which belong or may belong
to many individuals. Thefe are kinds and fpe-
ctes of things ; fuch as, man or elephant,
which are fpecies of fubflances ; wifdom or
courage, which are fpecies of qualities ; equali-
ty or fimilitudc, which are fpecies of relations.
It may be aflced. From what original are thefe
conceptions formed ^. And when are they faid
to be true or falfe ?

It appears to me, that the original from
which they are copied, that is, the thing con-
ceived, is the conception or meaning which
other men w^ho underfland the language affix
to the fame words.

Things are parcelled into kinds and forts,
not by nature, but by men. The individual
things we are conneded with, are fo many,
that to give a proper name to every individual
would be impolTible. We could never attain
the knowledge of them that is neceifary, nor
converfe nor reafon about them, without fort-
mg them according to their different attributes.
Thofe that agree in certain attributes are thrown
into one parcel, and have a general name given
them, which belongs equally to every indivi-
dual in that parcel. This common name mull
therefore fignify thofe attributes which have
been obferved to be common to every individual
in that parcel, and nothing elfe.

That fuch general words may anfwer their
intention, all that is neceffary is, that thofe
who ufe them fhould affix the fame meaning: or
notion, that rs, the lame conception to them.

The

H

ESSAY IV.

C H A P.The common meaning is the ftandard by which
I- fuch conceptions are formed, and they are faid
^^'^^^^ to be true or falfe, according as they agree or
difagree with it. Thus, my conception of fe-
lony is true and juft, when it agrees with the
meaning of that word in the laws relating to
it, and in authors who underfland the law.
The meaning of the word is the thing conceiv-
ed ; and that meaning is the conception affixed
to it by thofe who bed underfland the language.
An individual is expreffed in language either
by a proper name, or by a general word joined
to fach circumftances as diilinguifh that indi-
vidual from all others; if it is unknown, it
may, when an object of fenfe and within reach,
be pointed out to the fenfes; when beyond the
reach of the fenfes, it may be afcertained by a
defcription, which, though very imperfect,
may be true and fufficient to diftinguifli it from
every other individual. Hence it is, that,
in fpeaking of individuals, we are very little
in danger of miflaking the objed, or taking
one individual for another.

Yet, as was before obferved, our conception
of them is alv/ays inadequate and lame. They
are the creatures of God, and there are many
things belonging to them v/hich we know not,
and which cannot be deduced by reafoning from
what we know: Ihey have a real eflence, or
conflltution of nature, from which all their
qualities flow ; but this effence our faculties
do not com.prehcnd : They are therefore inca-
pable of definition; for a definition ought to
comprehend the whole nature or eifence of
the thing defined.

Thus, Weflminfter bridge is an individual
objed ; though I had never feen or heard of it

before,

0/" Simple Apprehension in General. 15

before, if I am only made to conceive that itC H A P.
is a bridge from Weflminfter over the Thames,
this conception, however imperfeft, is true,
and is fufficient to niLike me diftinguifh it, when
it is mentioned, from every other obje£t that
exifts. Ihe archite<5t may have an adequate
conception of its ftruiflure, which is the work
of man; but of the materials which are the
work of God, no man has an adequate con-
ception; and therefore, though the objed may
be defcribed, it cannot be defined.

Univerfals are always exprefTed by general
words; and all the words of language, ex-
cepting proper names, are general words ; they
are the figns of general conceptions, or of fome
circumftance relating to them. Thefe general
conceptions are formed for the purpofe of lan-
guage and reafoning; and the objecl from
which they are taken, and to which they are
intended to agree, is the conception which
other men join to the fame words; they may
therefore be adequate, and perfectly agree with
the thing conceived. This implies no more
than that men who fpeak the fame language
may perfectly agree in the meaning of many
general words.

Thus Mathematicians have conceived what
they call a plane triangle: They have defined
it accurately; and when 1 conceive it to be a
plane furface, bounded by three right hues,
I have both a true and an adequate conception
of it. There is nothing belonging to a plane
triangle which is not comprehended in this con-
ception of it, or deducible from it by juft rea-
foning. This definition expreffes the whole
cflence of the thing defined, as every jufl de-
finition ought to do; but this effence is only
what Mr. Locke very properly calls a nominal

effence ;

i6 E S S A Y IV.

CH A P. effence; it is a general conception formed by
the mind, and joined to a general word as its
fign.

If all the general words of a language had
a precife meaning, and were perfectly under-
ftood, as mathematical terms are, all verbal
difputes would be at an end, and men would
never feem to differ in opinion, but when they
differ in reality ; but this is far from being the
cafe. The meaning of mofl general words is
not learned like that of mathematical terms,
by an accurate definition, but by the experience
we happen to have, by hearing them ufed in
converfation. From fuch experience we col-
lect their meaning by a kind of induction; and
as this indu£lion is for the mofl part lame and
imperfect, it happens that different perfons join
different conceptions to the fame general word;
and though we intend to give them the mean-
ing which ufe, the arbiter of language, has
put upon them, this is difficult to find, and
apt to be miftaken, even by the candid and at-
tentive. Hence, in innumerable difputes, men
do not really differ in their judgments, but in
the way of expreffmg them.

Our conceptions, therefore, appear to be of
three kinds : They are either the conceptions
of individual things, the creatures of God;
or they are conceptions of the meaning of ge-
neral words; or they are the creatures of our
own imagination; and thefe different kinds
have different properties which we have endea-
voured to defcribe.

5. Our conception of things may be flrong
and lively, or it may be faint and languid in
all degrees. Thefe are qualities which proper-
ly belong to our conceptions, though we have

no

Of Simple Apprehension in General. 17

no names for them but fuch as are analoErical.^ HAP.
Every man is confcious of fach a difference in '•
his conceptions, and finds his Hvely conceptions' n^— **
moft agreeable, when the objed is not of fuch
a nature as to give pain.

Thofe who have lively conceptions, common-
ly cxprefs them in a lively manner, that is, in
fuch a manner as to raife lively conceptions and .
emotions in others. Such perfons are the moft
agreeable companions in converfation, and the
moft acceptable in their writings.

The livelinefs of our conceptions proceeds
from different caufes. Some objeds from their
own nature, or from accidental affbciationj?,
are apt to raife ftrong emotions in the mind.
Joy and hope, ambition, zeal, and refentment,
tend to enliven our conceptions: Difappoint-
ment, difgrace, grief, and envy, tend rather
to flatten them. Men of keen paflions are
commonly lively and agreeable in converfation ;
and difpallionate men often make dull compa-
nions : There is in fome men a natural ftrcngth
and vigour of mind, which gives ftrength to
their conceptions on all fubjefts, and in all the
occafional variations of temper.

It feems eafier to form a lively conception of
objects that are familiar, than of thofe that
are not; our conceptions of vifible objedls are
commonly the moft lively, when other circum-
ftances are equal : Hence Poets not only delight
in the defcription of vifible objects, but find
means by metaphor, analogy, and allufion, to
clothe every object they defcribe with vifible
qualities: The lively conception of thefe makes
the object appear, as it were, before our eyes.
Lord Kaimes, in his Elements cf Critjcifm,
has fhewn of what importance it is in works ^

Vol. II. C of

j8 E S S a Y IV.

C H A P. of tafte, to give to objects defcribed, what he
^ calls ideal prefence. To produce this in the
^^ — "^ ' mind, is indeed the capital aim of poetical
and rhetorical defcription. It carries the man,
as it were, out of himfelf, and makes him a
fpectator of the fcene defcribed. This ideal
prefence feems to me to be nothing elfe but
a lively conception of the appearance which
the object would make if really prefent to the
eye.

Abflracl and general conceptions are never
lively, though they may be diflincl; and there-
fore, however neceflary in philofophy, feldom
enter into poetical defcription, without being
particularifed or clothed in fome vifible drefs.

It may be obferved, however, that our con-
ceptions of vifible objedls become more lively
by giving them motion, and more flill by giv-
ing them life, and intelledtual qualities. Hence
in poetry, the whole creation is animated, and
endowed with fenfe and reflection.

Imagination^ when it is diftinguifhed from
conception, feems to me to fignify one fpecies
of conception ; to wit, the conception of vi-
fible objects. Thus, in a mathematical pro-
portion, I imagine the figure, and I conceive
the demonftration; it would not I think be
improper to fay, I conceive both; but it would
not be fo proper to fay, I imagine the demon-
flration.

6. Our conceptions of things may be clear,
diftind, andfteady; or they may be obfcure,
indiftinct, and wavering. The livelinefs of our
conceptions gives pleafure, but it is their dif-
tinctnefs and ileadinefs that enables us to judge
right, and to exprefs our fcntiments with per-
fpicuity.

If

0/* Simple Apprehension in General, 19

If we enquire into the caufe, why among CHAP,
perfons fpeaking or writing on the fame fubjed:, '
we find in one fo much darknefs, in another ^-^"^""^
fo much perfpicuity; I believe the chief caufe
will be found to be, that one had a diftinft and
fteady conception of what he faid or wrote,
and the other had not: Men generally find
means to exprefs diftin£lly what they have con-
ceived diflinclly. Horace obferves, that pro-
per words fpontaneoully follow diftincl concep-
tions., " Verbaqye provifam rem non invitafe-
" quuntur.^' But it is impofiible that a man
fhould diftindly exprefs what he has notdiflind-
ly conceived.

We are commonly taught that perfpicuity
depends upon a proper choice of words,, a pro-
per ftructure of fentences, and a proper order
in the whole compofition. All this is very true,
but it fuppofes difllndlnefs in our conceptions,
without which there can be neither propriety
in our words, nor in the ftrudure of our fen-
tences, nor in our method.

Nay, I apprehend, that indiftinft concepti-
ons of things are, for the moft part, the caufe
not only of obfcurity in writing and fpeaking,
but of error in judging.

Muft not they who conceive things in the
fame manner form the fame judgment of their
agreements and difagreements ? Is it pofiible
for two perfons to differ with regard to the
conclufion of a fyllogifm who have the fame
conception of the premifes?

Some perfons find it difficult to enter into a
mathematical demonftration. I believe we fhall
always find the reafon to be, that they do not
diftindly apprehend it. A man cannot be con-
vinced by what he does not underftand. On
C 2 the

20 ESSAY IV.

CH A P.thc other hand, 1 think a man cannot under-
ftand a demonftration without feeing the force
of it. I fpeak of fuch demonftrations as thofe
of Euclid, where every flep is fet down, and
nothing left to be fupplied by the reader.

Sometimes one who has got through the
firrt four books of Euclid's Elements, and
fees the force of the demonftrations, finds
difficulty in the fifth. What is the reafon of
this? You may find, by a little converfation
with him, that he has not a clear and ileady
conception of ratios and of the terms relating
to them. When the terms ufed in the fifth
book have become familiar, and readily excite
in his mind a clear and Ready cor^ception of
their meaning, you may venture to affirm that
he will be able to underftand the demonftra-
tions of that book, and to fee the force of
them.

If this be really the cafe, as it feems to be,
it leads us to think that men are very much
upon a level with regard to mere judgment,
when we take that facult)^ apart from the ap-
prehenfion or conception ot the things about
which we judge ; fo that a found judgment
feeras to be the infeparable companion of a
clear an^i fteady apprehenfion : And we ought
not to cenfider thefe two as talents, of which
the one may fall to the lot of one man, and
the other to the lot of another, but as talents
which always go together.

It may, however, be obferved, that fome of
our conceptions may be more fubfervient to
reafoning than others which are equally clear
and diitind: It was before obferved, that
fome of our conceptions are of individual
things, others of thing-s general and abftrad.

It

Q/" Simple Apprehension in General. 21

It may happen, that a man who has very clear C^H A P.
conceptions of things individual, is not io hap-
py in thofe of things general and abftrad.
And this I take to be the reafon why we find
men who have good judgment in matters of
commoil life, and perhaps good talents for po-
etical or rhetorical compofition, who find it
very difficult to enter into abftraft reafoning.

That I may not appear fmgular in putting
men fo much upon a level in point of mere
judgment, 1 beg leave to fupport this opinion
by the authority of two very thinking men,
Des CARThS and Cicero. The former, in
his diflertation on method, exprefles himfelf
to this purpofe : " Nothing is fo equally dif-
tributed among men as judgment. Where-
fore it feems reafonable to believe, that the
power of diftinguifhing what is true from what
is falfe, (which we properly call judgment or
right reafon), is by nature equal in all men;
and therefore that the diverfity of our opinions
does not arife from one perfon being endowed
with a greater power of reafon than another,
but only from this, that we do not lead our
thoughts in the fame track, nor attend to the
fame things."

Cicero, in his third book De Oratore,
makes this obfervation, *' It is wonderful,
when the learned and unlearned differ fo much
in art, how little they dilFerin judgment. For
art being derived from Nature, is good for
nothing, unlefs it move and delight Nature.*'

From what has been faid in this article, it
follows, that it is fo far in our power to write
and fpeak perfpicuoufly, and to reafon juftly,
as it is in our power to form clear and diftintl
conceptions of the fubjed on which we fpeak

or

22 E S S A Y IV.

CHAP. or reafcn. And though Nature hath put a

^- wide difference between one man and another

^•^'^^''^^ in this refpedt, yet that it is in a very confider-

able degree in our power to have clear and

diftinft apprehenljons of things about which

we think and reafon, cannot be doubted.

7. It has been obferved by many authors,
that, when we barely conceive any obje£t, the
ingredients of that conception mud either be
things with which we were before acquainted
by fome other original power of the mind, or
they mufl be parts or attributes of fuch things.
Thus a man cannot conceive colours, if he ne-
ver faw, nor founds, if he never heard. If
man had not a ccnfcience, he could not con-
ceive what is meant by moral obligation, or
by right and wrong in conduct.

Fancy may combine things that never were
combined in reality. It may enlarge or dimi-
nifh, multiply or divide, compound and fafhion
the objects which Nature prefents ; but it can-
not, bv the utmoll effort of that creative Pow-
er which we afcribc to it, bring any one fimple
ingredient into its produftions, which Nature
has not framed, and brought to our know-
ledge by fome other faculty.

This Mr. Locke has expreffed as beautifully
as juftly. The dominion of man, in this little
world of his own underftanding, is much the
fame as in the great world of vifible things ;
wherein his power, hov/ever managed by art
and Ikill, reaches no farther than to compound
and divide the m.aterials that are made to his
hand, but can do nothing towards making the
lead particle of matter, or deftroying one atom
that is already in being. The fame inabihty
will every one find in himfelf, to fafhion in

his

Of Simple Apprehension in General. 23

his underftanding any fimple idea not received C HAP.
by the powers which God has given him. ^•

I think all Philofophers agree in this fenti-
ment. Mr. Hume, indeed, after acknow-
ledging the truth of the principle in general,
mentions what he thinks a iingle exception to
it. That a man, who had feen all the fnades
of a particular colour except one, might frame
in his mind a conception of that fliade which
he never faw. I think this is not an excepti-
on ; becaufe a particular ihade of a colour dif-
fers not fpecifically, but only in degree, from
other fhades of the fame colour.

It is proper to obferve, that our moft fimple
conceptions are not thofe which Nature imme-
diately prefents to us. When we come to
years of underftanding, we have the power of
analyfing the objects of Nature, of dillinguifii-
ing their feveral attributes and relations, of
conceiving them one by one, and of giving
a name to each, whofe meaning extends only
to that fingle attribute or relation : And thus
our moft fimple conceptions are not thofe of
any object in nature, but of fome fingle attri-
bute or relation of fuch objects.

Thus nature prefents to our fenfes, bodies
that are extended in three dimenfions, and fo-
lid. By analyfing the notion we have of body
from our fenfes, we form to ourfelves the con-
ceptions of extenfion, folidity, fpace, a point,
a line, a furface ; all which are more limple
conceptions than that of a body. But they
are the elements, as it were, of which our
conception of a body is made up, and into
which it may be analyfed. This power of
analyfing objeds we propofe to confider parti-
cularly in another place. It is only mentioned

here.

24 ESSAY IV.

CHAP, here, that what is faid in this article may not
be underitood, fo as to be inconfiftent with it.
8. Though our conceptions muft be confi-
ned to the ingredients mentioned in the laft
article, we are unconfined with regard to the
arrangement of thofe ingredients. Here we
may pick and chufe, and form an endlefs vg,-
riety of combinations and conipofitions, which
we call creatures of the imagination. Thefe
may be clearly conceived, though they never
exiiled : And indeed every thing that is made,
mufl have been conceived before it was made.
Every work ot human art, and every plan of
conduct, whether in public or in private Hfe,
muft have been conceived before it is brought
to execution. And we cannot avoid. thinking,
that the Almighty before he created the uni-
verfe by his pov^'er, had a diflinci conception
of the whole and of every part, and faw it to
be good, and agreeable to his intention.

It is the bufmefs of man, as a rational crea-
ture, to employ this unlimited power of con-
ception, for planning his condud and enlarg-
ing his knowledge. It feems to be peculiar to
beings endowed with reafon to act by a pre-
conceived plan. Brute animals ieem either to
want this power, or to have it in a very low
degree. They are moved by inftinct, habit,
appetite, or natural aiieclion, according as
thefe principles are ftirred by the prefent
occafion. But I fee no reafon to think that
they can propofe to themfelves a connected
plan of life, or form general rules of conduct.
Indeed, we fee that many of the human fpe-
cies, to whom God has given this power,
make little ufe of it. Ihey ad without a plan,

as

Of Simple ArPREiiENSioN in General. 55

as the paffion or appetite which is (Irongefl atC H A P.
the time leads them. ^■

9. The lafl: property I ihall mention of this ^^
faculty, is that which efl'entially diitingui{he:j
it from every other power of the mind ; and
it is, that it is not employed folely about things
which have exiflence. I can conceive a wing^
ed horfe or a centaur, as eafily and as diflindl:-
ly as I can conceive a man whom I have feen.
Nor does this diftincl conception incline my
judgment in the leafl to the belief, that a wing-*
ed horfe or a centaur ever exifted.

It is not fo with the other operations of our
minds. They are employed about real exig-
ences, and carry with them the belief of their
objecls. When I feel pain, T am compelled to
believe that the pain that I feel has a real exifl-
ence. When I perceive any external objed:,
my behef of the real exiflence of the objecl is
irrefiftible. When I diftindly remember any
event, though that event may not now
exifl, I can have no doubt but it did exilt.
That confcioulnefs which we have of the ope-
rations of our own minds implies a belief of
the real exiflence of thofe operations.

Thus we fee, that the powers of fenfation,
of perception, of memory, and of confciouf-
nefs, are all employed folely about objects that
do exift, or have exifled. But conception is
often employed about objects that neither do.,
nor did, nor will exift. This is the very na-
ture of this faculty, that its objecl, though
diflinftly conceived, may have no exiflence.
Such an objeft we call a creature of imagina-
tion ; but this creature never was created.

That w^e may not impofe upon ourfelves in
this matter, we mufl diflinguifh between that

26 ESSAY IV.

CH A P.aft or operation of the mind, which we call
conceiving an objed:, and the obje£l which we

^'"^^^^ conceive. When we conceive any thing, there
is a real act or operation of the mind ; of this
we are confcious, and can have no doubt of
its exiftence : But every fuch ad mud have an
objed ; for he that conceives, mufl conceive
fomething. Suppofe he conceives a centaur,
he may have a diftind conception of this ob-
jed, though no centaur ever exifted.-

I am afraid, that, to thofe who are unac-
quainted with the dodrine of Philofophers upon
this fubjed, I fliall appear in a very ridiculous
light, for infilling upon a point fo very evident,
<is that men may barely conceive things that
never exifled. They will hardly beheve, that
any man in his wits ever doubted of it. In-
deed, I know no truth more evident to the
common fenfe and to the 'experience of man-
kind. But if the authority of philofophy, an-
cient and modern, oppofes it, as I think it
does, I wiih not to treat that authority fo fafti-
dioufly, as not to attend patiently to what may
be faid in fupport of it.

CHAP.

THEORIES concerning CONCEPTION. 27

CHAP. II.

Theories conceryiing Conception,

THE theory of ideas has been applied to
the conception of objeds as well as to
perception and memory. Perhaps it will be
irkfome to the reader, as it is to the writer,
to return to that fubjedl, after fo much has
been faid upon it ; but -Jts application to the
conception of objefts, which could not proper-
ly have been introduced before, gives a more
comprehenfive view of it, and of the preju-
dices which have led Philofophers fo unani-
moufly into it.

There are two prejudices which feem to me
to have given rife to the theory of ideas in all
the various forms in which it has appeared in
the courfe of above two thoufand years ; and
though they have no fupport from the natural
diftates of our faculties, or from attentive re-
flection upon their operations, they are preju-
dices which thofe who fpeculate upon this fub-
jecl, are very apt to be led into by analogy.

Thtjirji is. That in all the operations of the
underftanding there muft be fome immediate
intercourfe between the mind and its object,
fo that the one may a6t upon the other. The
fecond. That in all the operations of under-
ftanding there muft be an obje£t of thought,
which really exifts while we think of it ; or,
as fome Philofophers have expreffed it, that
which is not, cannot be intelligible.

Had Philofophers perceived, that thefe are
prejudices grounded only upon analogical

reafoning.

28 E S S A T IV.

CH A P.reafoning, we had never heard of ideas in the
^^' philofophical fenfe of that word.

The firil of thefe principles has led Philofo-
phers to think, that as the external objects of
fenfe are too remote to ad: upon the mind im-
mediately, there mud be fome image or fliadow
of them that is prcfent to the mind, and is the
immediate objed of perception. That there
is fuch an immediate object of perception, dif-
tindl from the external objed, has been very
unanimoully held by Philofophers, though they
have differed much about the name, the nature,
and the origin of thofe immediate objects.

We have confidered what has been faid in
tliefupport of this principle, Eifay II. chap. 14.
to which the reader is referred, to pre-
vent repetition.

I fhall only add to what is there faid. That
there appears no fliadow of reafon why the
mind mud have an objeQ: immediately prefent
to it in. its intellectual operations, any more
' than in its affections and palFions. Philofo-
phers have not faid, that ideas are the immedi-
ate objects of love or refentment, of efteem or
difapprobation. It is, I think, acknowledged,
that perfons and not ideas are the immediate
objects of thofe affections ; perfons, who are
as far from being immediately prefent to the
mind as other external objects, and fometimes
perfons who have now no exiflence in this
world at leaft, and who can neither ad upon
the mind, nor be aded upon by it.

The fecond principle, v/hich I conceive to
be likewife a prejudice of Philofophers ground-
ed upon analogy, is now to be confidered.

It contradids diredly what was laid down in
the lad article of the preceding chapter, to wit,

that

THEORIES concerning CONCEPTION. 29

that we may have a diftind conception of C H A P,
things which never exifted. This is undoubt- ^^•
edly the common belief of thofe who have not ^'""^
been intruded in philofophy ; and they will
think it as ridiculous to defend it by reafoning,
as to oppofe it.

The Philofopher fays, Though there may
be a remote objed which does not exilt, there
mud be an immediate objecl which really ex-
iils ; for that v/hich is not, cannot be an object
of thought. The idea mufl be perceived by
the mind, and if it does not exifl there, there
can be no perception of it, no operation of the
mind about it.

This principle deferves the more to be exa-
mined, becaufe the other before mentioned de-
pends upon it ; for although the laft may be
true, even if the firft was falfe, yet if the lafl
be not true, neither can the firft : If we can
conceive objeds which have no exiftence, it
follows, that there may be objects of thought
which neither act upon the mind, nor are acted
upon by it ; becaufe that which has no exift-
ence can neither act nor be acled upon.

It is by thefe principles that Philofophers
have been led to think, that in every a<3: of
memory and of conception, as well as of per-
ception, there are two objects. The one, the
immediate objett, the idea, the fpecies, the
form : The other, the mediate or external ob-
jed. The vulgar know only of one objed,
which in perception is fomething external that
exifts ; in memory, fomething that; did exift,
and in conception, may be fomething that
never exifted : But the immediate obje£t of
the Philofophers, the idea, is faid to exift,
and to be perceived in all thefe operations,

Thefe

30 ESSAY IV.

CHAP. Thefe principles have not only led Philofo-
^^^ phers to iplit objeds into two^ where others
^ can find but one^ but likewife have led them
to reduce the three operations now mentioned
to one, making memory and conception, as
well as perception, to be the perception of
ideas. But nothing appears more evident to
the vulgar, than that, what is only remember-
ed, or only conceived, is not perceived ; and
to fpeak of the perceptions of memory, ap-
pears to them as abfurd, as to fpeak of the
hearing of fight.

In a word, thefe tv\'o principles carry us into
the whole philofophical theory of ideas, and
furnifh every argument that ever was ufed for
their exiilence. If they are true, that fyftem
mud be admitted v/ith all its confequences: If
they are only prejudices, grounded upon ana-
logical reafoning, the Vvhoie fyflem mud fall to
the ground with them.

It is, therefore, of importance to trace thofe
principles, as far as we are able, to their origin,
and to fee, if poffible, whether they have any
juft foundation in reafon, or whether they are
rafh conclufions, drawn from a fuppofed ana-
logy between matter and mind.

The unlearned, who are guided by the dic-
tates of Nature, and exprefs what they are
confcious of concerning the operations of their
own mind, believe, that the objetl which they
diftinftly perceive certainly exifts ; that the ob-
ject which they difliniSlly remember certainly
did exift, but now may not; but as to things
that are barely conceived, they know that they
can conceive a thoufand things that never ex-
ifted, and that the bare conception of a thing
does not fo much as afford a prefumption of its

exiftence.

THEORIES concerning CONCEPTION. 31

exiflence. They give themfelves no trouble toC H A P.
know how thefe operations are performed, or
to account for them from general principles.

But Philofophers, who wifh to difcover the
caufes of things, and to account for thefe ope-
rations of mind, obferving, that in other ope-
rations there mud be not only an agent, but
fomething to a61 upon, have been led by ana-
logy to conclude that it mult be fo in the ope-
rations of the mind.

' The relation between the mind and its con-
ceptions bears a very flrong and obvious ana-
logy to the relation between a man and his
work. Every fcheme he forms, every difco-
very he makes by his reafoning powers, is ve-
ry properly called the work of his mind. Thefe
works of the mind are fometimes great and im-
portant works, and draw the attention and ad-
miration of men.

It is the province of the Philofopher to con-
fider how fuch works of the mind are produc-
ed, and of what materials they are compofed.
He calls the materials ideas. There muft there-
fore be ideas, which the mind can arrange
and form into a regular ftrudure. Every
thing that is produced, muft be produced of
fomething; and from nothing, nothing can be
produced.

Some fuch reafoning as this feems to me to
have given the firft rife to the philofophical no-
tions of ideas. Thofe notions were formed
into a fyftem by the Pythagoreans two thou-
fand years ago; and this fyftem was adopted
by Plato, and embelliftied with all the powers
of a fine and lofty imagination. I fhall, in
compliance with cuftom, call it the Platonic

fyftem

32 ESSAY IV.

CHAP. fyilem of ideas, though in reality it was the
^^- inventioti of the Pythagorean fchool.

The mofl: arduous queftion which employed
the wits of men in the infancy of the Grecian
philofophy was, A¥hat was the origin of thfc
world ? From what principles and caufes did it
proceed? To this queuion very different anfwers
were given in the different fchools. Moft of
them appear to us very ridiculous. The Py-
thagoreans, however, judged very rationally,
from the order and beailty of the univerfe,
that it mud be the workmanfiiip of an eternal,
intelligent and good Being : And therefore they
concluded the Deity to be one firft principle or
caufe of the univerfe.

But they conceived there muft be more.
The univcrTe muft be made of fomethincr.
Every workm.an muft have materials to -work
upon. That the world ftiould be made out of
nothing feem.ed to them abfurd, becaufe every
thing that is made muft be made of fomething.

Nullam rem e nihihgigni divinitus unquam.

LucR.
De nibilo nihil^ in nihilum nil poffe rererti.

Pers.

This maxim never was brought into doubt:
Even in Cicero's time it continued to be held
hy all Philofophers. What natural Philofopher
(fays that author in his fecond book of Divi-
nation) ever afferted that any thing could take
its rife from nothing, or be reduced to nothing?
Becaufe m.en muft have materials to work upon,
they concluded it m.uft be fo with the Deity.
This was reafoning from analogy.

From this it followed, that an eternal un-
created

THEORIES concern'mg CONCEPTION. 33

created matter was another firft principle of the CHAP,
univerfe. But this matter they beheved had ^^•
no form nor quality. It was the fame with the
materia prima ^ or firfl matter of Aristotle,
who borrowed this part of his philofophy from
his predecefTors.

To us it feems more rational to think that
the Deity created matter with its qualities,
than that the matter of the univerfe fhould be
eternal and felf-exiftent. But fo ftrong was the
prejudice of the ancient Philofophers againfl
what we call creation, that they rather chofe to
have recourfe to this eternal and unintelligible
matter, that the Deity might have materials to
work upon.

The fame analogy which led them to think
that there mull be an eternal matter of which
the world was made, led them alfo to conclude
that there muil be an eternal pattern or model
according to which it was made. Works of de-
fign and art muft be diftinftly conceived before
they are made. The Deity, as an intelligent
Being, about to execute a work of perfett
beauty and regularity, mull have had a diftind:
conception of his work before it was made.
This appears very rational.

But this conception, being the work of the
Divine intelled, fomething muft have exilLed
as its objed. This could only be ideas, which
are the proper and immediate objed of intelled.

From this inveftigation of the principles or
caufes of the univerfe, thofe Philofophers con-
cluded them to be three in number, to wit, an
eternal matter as the material caufe, eternal
ideas as the model or exemplary caufe, and an
eternal intelligent mind as the efficient caufe..

Vol. II. D As

34 E S S A Y IV.

P. As to the nature of thofe eternal ideas, the
Philofophers of that fed: afcribed to them the
moft magnificent attributes. They were im-
mutable and uncreated; the objeft of the Di-
vine intelled before the world was made; and
the only objed of intellcd: and of fcience to
all intelligent beings. As far as intelled is fu-
perior to lenfe, fo far are ideas fupcrior to all
the objefts of fenfe. The obje6:s of fenfe be-
ing in a conftant flux, cannot properly be faid
to exifl. Ideas are the things which have a
real and permanent exiftence. They are as
various as the fpecies of things, there being
one idea of every fpecies, but none of indivi-
duals. The idea is the effence pf the fpecies,
and exifted before any of the fpecies was made.
It is entire in every individual of the fpecies,
without being either divided or multiplied.

In our prefent ftate, we have but an imper-
fect conception of the eternal ideas; but it is
the higheft felicity and perfection of men to be
able to contemplate them. While we are in
this prifon of the body, fenfe, as a dead
weight, bears us down from the contemplation
of the intelledual objedts; and it is only by a
due purification of the foul, and abftraction
from fenfe, that the intellectual eye is opened,
and that we are enabled to mount upon the
wings of intellect to the celeltial world of
ideas.

Such was the mod ancient fyftem concern-
ing ideas, of which we have any account*
And however different from the modern, it
appears to be built upon the prejudices we have
mentioned; to wit, that in every operation,
there muft be fcmething to work upon ; and

that

THEORIES concerning CONCEPTION. ;^s

that even in conception there muft be an objeftC HAP.
which really exifts. ^^•

For if thofe ancient Philofophers had thought ' ~'
it poffible that the Deity could operate without
materials in the formation of the world, and
that he could conceive the plan of it without
a model, they could have feen no reafon to
make matter and ideas eternal and neceffarily
cxiflent principles, as well as the Deity himfelf.
Whether they believed that the ideas were
not only eternal, but eternally, and without a
caufe, arranged in that beautiful and perfedt
order, which they afcribe to this intelligible
world of ideas, I cannot fay ; but this feems
to be a neceflary confequence of the fyflem :
For if the Deity could not conceive the plan
of the world which he made, without a model
which really exifted, that model could not be
his work, nor contrived by his wifdom ; for if
he made it, he muft have conceived it before
it was made ; it muft therefore have exifted
in all its beauty and order independent of the
Deity ; and this I think they acknowledged,
by making the model, and the matter of this
world, firft principles, no lefs than the Deity.
If the Platonic fyftem be thus underftood,
(and I do not fee how it can hang together
otherwife), it leads to two confequences that
are unfavourable to it.

Firjl, Nothing is left to the Maker of this
world but the fkill to work after a model. The
model had all the perfection and beauty that
appears in the copy, and the Deity had only
to copy after a pattern that exifted indepen-
dent of him. Indeed, the copv, if we believe
thofe Philofophers, falls very far ftiort of the
original ; but this they feem to have afcribed
D 2 to

36 ESSAY IV.

C HA P. to the refraftorinefs of matter, of which it was

^^' made.
^-"''^'"^ Scco7idly, if the world of ideas, without be-
ing the work of a perfedly wife and good in-
teUigent Being, could have fo much beauty
and perfection, how can we infer from the
beauty and order of this world, which is but
an imperfect copy of the other, that it muft
have been made by a perfedlly wife and good
Being ? The force of this reafoning, from the
beauty and order of the univerfe, to its being
the work of a wife Being, which appears in-
vincible to every candid mind, and appeared
fo to thofe ancient Philofophers, is entirely de-
ftroyed by the fuppofition of the exiftence of a
world of ideas, of greater perfection and beau-
ty, which never was made. Or, if the rear
foning be good, it will apply to the world of
ideas, which muft of confequence have been
made by a wife and good intelligent Being,
and muft have been conceived before it was
made.

It may farther be obferved, that all that is
myfterious and unintelligible in the Platonic
ideas, arifes from attributing exiftence to them.
Take away this one attribute, all the reft,
however pompoufly exprefied, are eafily ad-
mitted and underftood.

What is a Platonic idea ? It is the eflence of
a fpecies. It is the exemplar, the model, ac-
cording to which, all the individuals of that
, fpecies are made. It is entire in every indivi-

dual of the fpecies, without being multiplied
or divided. It was an objedt of the Divine in-
tellect from eternity, and is an objeft of con-
templation and of fcience to every intelligent
being. It is eternal, immutable, and uncrea-
ted ;

THEORIES concerning CONCEPTION. 37

ted ; and, to crown all, it not only exifls, butC HAP.
has a more real and permanent exiilence than ^^*
any thing that ever God made. ^-^•^r— '

Take this defcription altogether, and it
would require an Oedipus to unriddle it. But
take away the laft part of it, and nothing is
more eafy. It is eafy to find five hundred
things which anfwer to every article in the de-
fcription except the lad.

Take for an inftance the nature of a circle,
as it is defined by Euclid, an objeft which
every intelligent being may conceive diflindlly,
though no circle had ever exifted j it is the
exemplar, the model, according to which all
the individual figures of that fpecics that ever
exifled were made ; for they are all made ac-
cording to the nature of a circle. It is entire
in every individual of the fpecies, without be-
ing multiplied or divided : For every circle is
an entire circle ; and all circles, in as far as
they are circles, have one and the fame nature.
It was an objed of the Divine intellect from all
eternity, and may be an obje£t of contempla-
tion and of fcience to every intelligent being.
It is theeflence of a fpecies, and, like all other
effences, it is eternal, immutable, and uncrea-
ted. This means no more, but that a circle
always was a circle, and can never be any thing
but a circle. It is the neccffity of the thing,
and not any aft of creating power, that makes
a circle to be a circle.

The nature of every fpecies, whether of
fubflance, of quality, or of relation, and in
general every thing which the ancients called
an univerfal, anfwers to the defcription of a
Platonic idea, if in that defcription you leave
out the attribute of exiftence.

If

38 E S S A Y IV.

CHAP. If we believe that no fpecles of things could
^^- be conceived by the Ahiiighty without a mo-
del that really exilfed, we muft go back to the
Platonic fyftem, however myfterious. But if
it be true, that the Deity could have a diflindi
conception of things which did not exift, and
that other intelligent beings may conceive ob-
je£ls which do not exift, the fyftem has no
better foundation than this prejudice, that the
operations of mind muft be like thofe of the
body.

Aristotle rejected the ideas of his mafter
Plato as vifionary ; but he retained the pre-
judices that gave rife to them, and therefore
fubftituted fomething in their place, but un-
der a different name, and of a different origin.
He called the objects of intelled, intelligi-
ble fpccies ; thofe of the memory and imagi-
nation, phantafms, and thofe of the fenfes,
fenfible fpecies. This change of the name was
indeed very fmall ; for the Greek word of
Aristotle, which we tranflate fpecies or fonn,
is fo near to the Greek word idea, both in its
found and fignification, that, from their ety-
mology, it would not be eafy to give them
different meanings. Both are derived from
the Greek word which fignifies to fee^ and
both may fignify a vifion or appearance to the
eye. Cicero, who underftood Greek well,
often tranflates the Greek word idea by the
Latin word vifio. But both words being ufed
as terms of art, one in the Platonic lyflem,
the other in the Peripatetic, the Latin writers
generally borrowed the Greek word idea to
exprefs the Platonic notion, and tranflated
Aristotle's word, by the words /pedes or

forma ;

THEORIES concerning CONCEPTION. 39

forma ; and In this they have been followed in^ ^ ^ P*
the modern languages. .^^.^^

Thofe forms or fpecies were called intelligi-
ble, to diftinguifli them from fenfible fpecies,
which Aristotle held to be the immediate
objedls of fenfe.

He thought that the fenfible fpecies come
from the external objefifc, and defined a fenfe
to be that which ha> the capacity to receive the
form of fenfible things without the matter ; as
wax receives the form of a feal without any of
the matter of it. In like manner, he thought
that the intellect receives the forms of things
intelligible, and he calls it the place of forms.

I take it to have been the opinion of Aris-
totle, that the intelligible forms in the hu-
man intelleft are derived from the fenfible by
abflraftion, and other operations of the mind
itfelf. As to the intelligible forms in the di-
vine intellect, they mud have had another
origin ; but 1 do not remember that he give^
any opinion about them. He certainly main-
tained, however, that there is no intellection
without intelhgible fpecies ; no memory or
imagination without phantafms ; no perception
without fenfible fpecies. Treating of memory
he propofes a difficulty, and endeavours to re-
folve it, how a phantafm, that is a prefent ob-
je£t in the mind, fhould reprefent a thing that
is pad.

Thus, I think, it appears, that the Peripa-
tetic fyftem of fpecies and phantafms, as well
as the Platonic fyftem of ideas, is grounded
upon this principle, that in every kind of
thought there mult be fome object that really
exifts ; in every operation of the mind, fome-
thing to work upon. Whether this immediate

objc6t

40

ESSAY IV.

objed be called an idea with Plato, or a
phantafm of fpecies with Aristotle ; whether
it be eternal and uncreated, or produced by
the impreffions of external objefts, is of no
confequence in the prefent argument. In both
fyllems it w-as thought impoflible that the Deity
could make the world without matter to work
upon. In both it was thought impoflible, that
an intelligent Being could conceive any thing
that did not exift, but by means of a model
that really exifted.

The Philofophers of the Alexandrian fchool,
commonly called the latter Piatonifts, conceiv-
ed the .eternal ideas of things to be in the Di-
vine intellect, and thereby avoided the abfur-
dity of making them a principle diftinft from
and independent of the Deity ; but flill they
held them to exift really in the Divine mind as
the objeds of conception, and as the patterns
and archetypes of things that are made.

Modern Philofophers, flill perfuaded that of
every thought there muft be an immediate ob-
jed that really exifls, have not thought it ne-
celTary to diftinguifh by different names the im-
mediate objeds of intelled, of imagination,
and of the fenfes, but have given the common
name of idea to them all.

Whether thefe ideas be in the fenforium, or
in the mind, or partly in the one, and partly
in the other ; "whether they exift when they
are not perceived, or only when they are
perceived ; whether they are the workman-
{liip of the Deity or of the mind itfelf, or of
external natural caufes ; with regard to thefe
points, different authors feem to have different
opinions, and the fame author fometimes to
waver or be difiident ; but as to their exiftence,
there feems to be great unanimity.

So

THEORIES concerning CONCEPTION. 41

So much is this opinion fixed in the minds CHAP,
of Philofophers, that I doubt not but it will ^^•
appear to mofl a very (Irange paradox, or ra-
ther a contradiction that men lliould think
without ideas.

1 hat it has the appearance of a contradiftion,
I confefs. But this appearance arifes from the
^ambiguity of the word idea. If the idea of a
thing means only the thought of it, or the ope-
ration of the mind in thinking about it, which
is the mod common meaning of the word, to
think without ideas, is to think without.,
thought, which is undoubtedly a contradidion.

But an idea according to the definition given
of it by Philofophers, is not thought, but an
object of thought, which really exifts, and is
perceived. Now whether is it a contradidion
to fay, that a man may think of an object that
does not exifl ?

I acknowledge that a man cannot perceive
an object that does not exift ; nor can he re-
member an objed: that did not exift; ; but there
appears to me no contradiction in his conceiv-
ing an object that neither does, nor ever did
exifl ?

Let us take an example. I conceive a cen-
taur. This conception is an operation of the
mind, of which I am confcious, and to which
I can attend. The fole objed: of it is a centaur,
an animal which I believe never exifled. I
can fee no contradiction in this.
• The Philofopher fays, I cannot conceive a
centaur without having an idea of it in my
mind. I am at a lofs to underfland what he
means. He furely does not mean that 1 can-
not conceive it without conceiving it. This
would make me no wifer. What then is this

idea ?

42 E S S A Y IV.

CHAP, iclea ? Is it an animal, half horfe and half man?

IT ' ^ ^

• No. Then I am certain it is not the thing I
conceive. Perhaps he will fay, that the idea
is an image of the animal, and is the immedi-
ate objeft of my conception, and that the ani-
mal is the mediate or remote obje£t.

To this I anfwer : Firji^ I am certain there
are not two objeds of this conception, but one
only ; and that one is as immediate an objedl
of my conception as any can be.

Secondly^ This one object which I conceive,
is not the image of an animal, it is an animal.
I know what it is to conceive an image of an
animal, and what it is to conceive an animal ;
and I can diftinguifh the one of thefe from the
other without any danger of miftake. The
thing 1 conceive is a body of a certain figure
and colour, having life and fpontaneous mo-
tion. The Philofopher fays that the idea is an
image of the animal, but that it has neither
body, nor colour, nor life, 'nor fpontaneous
motion. This I am not able to comprehend.

Thirdly^ I wifh to know how this idea comes
to be an object of my thought, when I cannot
even conceive what it means ; and if I did con-
ceive it, this would be no evidence of its exift-
ence, any more than my conception of a cen-
taur is of its exiftence. Philofophers fome-
times fay that we perceive ideas, fometimes
that we are confcious of them. I can have no
doubt of the exiftence of any thing, which I
either perceive, or of which I am confcious ;
but I cannot find that I either perceive ideas or
am confcious of them.

Perception and confcioufnefs are very differ-
ent operations, and it is ftrange that Philofo-
phers have never determined by which of them

ideas

THEORIES concerning CONCEPTION. 43

ideas are difcerned. This is as if a man fhould^ ^^ ^'
pofitively affirm that he perceived an object,
but whether by his eyes, or his ears, or his
touch, he could not fay.

But may not a man who conceives a centaur
fay, that he has a diftind image of it in his
mind ? I think he may. And if he means by
this way of fpeaking what the vulgar mean,
who never heard of the philofophicai theory of
ideas, I find no fault with it. By a diftindl
image in the mind, the vulgar mean a diflinct
conception ; and it is natural to call it fo, on
account of the analogy between an image of a
thing and the conception of it. On account
of this analogy, obvious to all mankind, this
operation is called imagination, and an image
in the mind is only a periphrafis for imagina-
tion. iBut to infer from this that there is really
an image in the mind, diftinft from the ope-
ration of conceiving the objeft, is to be mifled
by an analogical expreffidrTfl as if, from the
phrafes of deliberating and fj^l'ancing things in
the mind, we fhould infer that there is really a
balance exifling in the mind for weighing
motives and arguments.

The analogical words and phrafes, ufed in
all languages to exprefs conception, do no
doubt facilitate their being taken in a literal
fenfe. But if we only attend carefully to what
we are confcious of in this operation, we fhall
find no more reafon to think that images do
really exift in our own minds, than that balan-
ces and other mechanical engines do.

We know of nothing that is in the mind
but by confcioufnefs, and we are confcious of
nothing but various modes of thinking ; fuch
as underftanding, willing, atlection, pafiion,

doing,

44 E S S A Y IV.

CHAP, doing, fuffering. If Philofophers chufe to
give the name of an idea to any mode of think-

^'^'^^^ ing, of which we are confcious, I have no ob-
jedion to the name ; but that it introduces a
foreign word into our language without ne-
ceffity, and a word that is very ambiguous,
and apt to miilead. But if they give that name
to images in the mind, which are not thought,
but only objeds of thought, I can fee no reafon
to think that there are fuch things in nature.
If they be, their exiflence and their nature
mufl be more evident than any thing elfe, be-
caufe we know nothing but by their means.
I may add, that if they be, we can know noth-
ing befides them. For, from the exiflence of
images, we can never, by any juft reafoning,
infer the exiflence of any thing elfe, unlefs
perhaps the exiflence of an intelligent Author
of them. In this Bifhop Berkeley reafoned
right.

In every work of defign, the work mufl be
conceived before it is executed, that is, before
it exifts. If a model, confifling of ideas,
mufl exift in the mind, as the objeft of this
conception, that model is a work of defign no
lefs than the other, of which it is the model ;
and therefore, as a work of defign, it mufl
have been conceived before it exifled. In
every work of defign, therefore, the concep-
tion mufl go before the exiflence. This ar-
gument we applied before to the Platonic fyf-
tem of eternal and immutable ideas, and it
may be applied with equal force to all the fyf-
tems of ideas.

If now it fhould be afked. What is the idea

, y'',. of a circle ? I anfwer. It is the conception of a

/' ^ t circle. What is the immediate objed of this

concep-

THEORIES concerning CONCEPTION. 45

conception ? The immediate and the only ob-C HAP.
jeft of it is a circle. But where is this circle ? ^^•
It is no where. If it was an individual, and^''^''
had a real exiflence, it muft have a place ; but
being an univerfal, it has no exiflence, and
therefore no place. Is it not in the mind of
him that conceives it ? The conception of it
is in the- mind, being an ad of the mind; and
in common language, a thing being in the
mind, is a figurative exprefTion, fignifying
that the thing is conceived or remembered.

It may be afl^ed. Whether this conception
is an image or refemblance of a circle ? 1 an-
fwer, I have already accounted for its being,
in a figurative fcnfe, called the image of a
circle in the mind. If the queftion is meant in
the literal fenfe, we mufl obferve, that the
word conception has two meanings. Properly
it fignifies that operation of the mind which we
have been endeavouring to explain ; but fome-
times it is put for the objed of conception, or
thing conceived.

Now, if the queflion be underflood in the
laft of thefe fenfes, the objed of this concepti-
on is not an image or refemblance of a circle ;
for it is a circle, and nothing can be an image
<)i itfelf.

If the queflion be. Whether the operation
of mind in conceiving a circle be an image or
refemblance of a circle ? I think it is not ; and
that no two things can be more perfectly un-
like, than a fpecies of thought and a fpecies of
figure. Nor is it more llrange that conception
fhould have no refemblance to the objed con-
ceived, than that defire fhould have no refem-
blance to the object defired, or refentment to
the objeQ; of refentment.

I can

46 E S S A Y IV.

P- I can likewife conceive an individual objeft
that really exifts, fuch as St. Paul's church
in London. I have an idea of it ; that is, I
conceive it. jTThe immediate objed of this
conception is "four hundred miles dillant ; and
I have no reafon to think that it acls upon me,
or that I acl upon it ; but I can think of it
notwithflanding.y I can think of the firft year,
or the lafl year^or the Julian period.

If, after all, it Ihould be thought, that ima-
ges in the mind ferve to account for this facul-
ty of conceiving things moft diftant in time
and place, and even things which do not exift,
which otherwife would be altogether incon-
ceivable ; to this I anfwer, That accounts of
things, grounded upon conjecture, have been
the bane of true philofophy in all ages. Ex-
perience may fatisfy us, that it is an hundred
times more probable that they are falfe than
that they are true.

This account of the faculty of conception,
by images in the mind, or in the brain, will
defcrve the regard of thofe who have a true
tafte in philofophy, when it is proved by folid
argum.ents, jirjl^ That there are images in the
mind, or in the brain, of the things we con-
ceive. Secondly, That there is a faculty in the
mind of perceiving fuch images. Thirdly,
That the perception of fuch images produces
the conception of things moft diftant, and even
of things that have no exiftence. .And, fourth-
ly. That the perception of individual images
in the mind, or in the brain, gives us the con-
ception of univerfals, which are the attributes
of many individuals. Until this is done, the
theory of images exifting in the mind, or in
the brain, ought to be placed in the fame ca-
tegory

MISTAKES concerning CONCEPTION. 47

tegory with the fenfible fpecies, and w^^fm^^HAP.
prima of Aristotle, and the vortices of Des
Cartes,

CHAP. III.

Mijlakes concerning Conception.

i.TT WRITERS on Logic, after the ex-
Y V ample of Aristotle, divide the
operations of the underftanding into three ;
fimple apprehenfion, which is another word
for conception, judgment, and reafoning.
They teach us, that reafoning is exprelTed by
a fyllogifm, judgment by a propofition, and
fimple apprehenfion by a term only, that is,
by one or more words which do not make a
full propofition, but only the fubjecl or predi-
cate of a propofition. If by this they mean, as
I think they do, that a propofition, or even a
fyllogifm, may not be fimply apprehended, I
believe this is a miflake.

In all judgment and in all reafoning concep-
tion is included. We can neither judge of a
propofition, nor reafon about it, unlefs wc
conceive or apprehend it. We may diftindlly
conceive a propofition, without judging of it
at all. We may have no evidence on one fide
or the other ; we may have no concern whe-
ther it be true or falfe. In thefe cafes we com-
monly form no judgment about it, though we
perfedly underftand its meaning.

A man may difcourfe or plead, or write,
for other ends than to find the truth. His
learning, and wit, and invention, may be em-
ployed, while his judgment is not at all, or

very

48 E S S A Y IV.

^ m"^ ^' ^^^^ ^^"^^' ^^^^^^ ^^ i^ ^°^ truth, but fomc

^_^_,^^^;_^ other end he purfues, judgment would be an

impediment, unlefs for difcovering the means

of attaining his end ; and therefore it is laid

afide, or employed folely for that purpofe.

The bufmefs of an orator is faid to be, to
find out what is fit to perfuade. This a man
may do with much ingenuity, who never took
the trouble to examine whether it ought to
perfuade or not. Let it not be thought, there-
fore, that a man judges of the truth of every
propofition he utters, or hears uttered. In
our commerce with the world, judgment is
not the talent that bears the greatefl price ; and
therefore thofe who are not fincere lovers of
truth, lay up this talent, where it rufts and
corrupts, while they carry others to market,
for which there is greater demand.

2. The divifion commonly made, by Logi-
cians, of fimple apprehenfion, into fenfation,
imagination, and pure intelleclion, feems to
me very improper in feveral refpeds.

iv/y?. Under the word fenfation, they in-
clude not only what is properly fo called, but
the perception of external objects by the fenfes.
Thefe are very different operations of the mind;
and although they are commonly conjoined by
nature, ought to be carefully didinguifhed by
Philofophers.

Secondly, Neither fenfation, nor the percep-
tion of external objefts, is fimple apprehenfi-
on. Bothinclude judgment and belief, which
are excluded from fimple apprehenfion.

Thirdly, They diftinguiih imagination from
pure intellection by this, that in imagination
the image is in the brain, in pure intellection
it is in the intellect. This is to ground a dif-

tinCtion

MISTAKES concerning CONCEPTION. 49

llndlon upon an hypothefis. We have no evi-C HAP,
dence that there are images either in the brain ^^^■
or in the intelledl. <— v— '

I take imagination, in its moft proper fenfe, M^tpa^^t^/'
to fignify a lively conception of objects of /
fight. This is a talent of in\portance to poets
and orators, and deferves a proper name, on
account of its connexion with thofe arts. Ac-
cording to this ftrid: meaning of the word,
imagination is diftinguifhed from conception
as a part from the whole. We conceive the
objects of the other fenfes, but it is notfo pro-
per to fay that we imagine them. We conceive
judgment, reafoning, propofitions, and argu-
ments ; but it is rather improper to fay that we
imagine thefe things.

This diflindion between imagination and
conception, may be illuftrated by an example,
which Des Cartes ufes to ilkiftrate the diftinc-
tion between imagination and pure intellection.
We can imagine a triangle or a fquare fo clear-
ly as to diftinguifh them from every other fi-
gure. But we cannot imagine a figure of a
thoufand equal fides and angles, fo clearly.
The befl eye, by looking at it, could not dif-
tinguifli it from every figure of more or fewer
fides. And that conception of its appearance
to the eye, which we properly call imagination,
cannot be more diflinci than the appearance
itfelf; yet we can conceive a figure of a thou-
fand fides, and even can demonllrate the pro-
perties which diftinguifh it from all figures of
more or fewer fides. It is not by the eye, but
by a fuperior faculty, that we form the ncticii
of a great number, fuch as a thoufand: And
a diftind: notion of this number of fides not
being to be got by the eye, it is not imagined
Vol. II, E but

50

ESSAY IV.

CH A P.but it is diftinctly conceived, and eafily diflin-

"^' guifiied from every other number.
^^^^^i^<^ 2* Simple apprehenfion is commonly repre-
fented as the firft operation of the underftand-
ing; and judgment, as being a compofition or
combination of fimple apprehenfions.

This miftake has probably arifen from the
taking fenfation, and the perception of objefts
by the fenfcs, to be nothing but fimple appre-
henfion. They are very probably the firft ope-
rations of the mind, but they are not fimple
apprehenfions.

It is generally allowed, that we cannot con-
ceive founds if we have never heard, nor co-
lours if we have never feen; and the fame
thing may be faid of the objefts of the other
fenfes. In like manner, we muft have judged
or reafoned before we have the conception or
fimple apprehenfion of judgment, and of rea-
foning.

Simple apprehenfion, therefore, though it
be the fimpleft, is not the firft operation of the
underftanding ; and inftead of faying, that the
more complex operations of the mind are
formed by compounding fimple apprehenfions,
we ought rather to fay, that fimple apprehen-
fions are got by analyfing more complex ope-
rations.

A firoilar miftake, which is carried through
the whole of Mr. Locke's Effay, may be here
mentioned. It is, that our fimpleft ideas or
conceptions are got immediately' by the fenfes,
or by confcioufnefs, and the complex after-
Tvsrds tbrmed by compounding them. I ap-
prehend, it is far othertvife.

Nat'jire prefents na objed to the fenfes, or
to^ confcioufnefs, that is not compkx. Thus,

by

MISTAKES concerning CONCEPTION. 51

by our fenfes we perceive bodies of variousC H A P.
kinds; but every body is a complex objed; ^^^•
it has length, breadth, and thicknefs ; it has'
figure, and colour, and various other fenfible
qualities, which are blended together in the
fame fubjed; and I apprehend, that brute ani-
mals, who have the fame fenfes that we have,
cannot feparatc the different qualities belonging
to the fame fubjedl, and have only a complex
and confufed notion of the whole: Such alfo
•would be our notions of the objedts of fenfe,
if we had not fuperior powers of underftand-
ing, by which we can analyfe the complex ob-
jefl:, abflract every particular attribute from
the reft, and form a diftind: conception of it.

So that it is not by the fenfes immediately,
but rather by the powers of analyfmg and ab-
ftradion, that we get the moft fimple, and the
moft diftihdl notions even of the objeds of
fenfe. This will be more fully explained in
another place.

4. There remains another miftake concern-^
ing conception, which deferves to be noticed.
It is, that our conception of things is a teft of
their poffibility, fo that, what we can dillinftly
conceive, we may conclude to be poffible;
and of what is impoffible, we can have no
conception.

This opinion has been held by Philofophers
for more than an hundred years, without con-
tradidion or diffent, as far as I know; and if
it be an error, it may be of fome ufe to enquire
into its origin, and the caufes that it has been
fo generally received as a maxim, whofe truth
could not be brought into doubt.

One of thefruitlefs queftions agitated among

the fcholaftic Philofophers in the dark ages was,

E 2 What

52

ESSAY TV.

CHAP. What is the criterion of truth ? as if men
^^^- could have any other way to diftinguifli truth
from error, but by the right ufe of that power
of judging which God has given them.

Des Cartes endeavoured to put an end to
.this controverfy, by making it a fundamental
principle in his fyftem, that whatever we clear-
ly and diftinclly perceive, is true.
^ To underftand this principle of Des Car-
tes, it muft be obferved, that he gave the
name of perception to every power of the hu-
man underftanding; and in explaining this
very maxim, he tells us, that fenfe, imagina-
tion, and pure intelledion, are only different
modes of perceiving, and fo the maxim was
underftood by all his followers. , ;
.'.;, The learned Dr. Cupworth feems alfo to
have adopted this principle: " The criterion
" of true knowledge, fays he, is only to be
" looked for in our knowledge and concepti-
*' tions themfelves : For the entity of all theo-
*' retical truth is nothing elfe but clear intel-
*' ligibility, and whatever is clearly conceived
" is an entity and a truth ; but that which is
-'' falfe. Divine power itfelf cannot make it to
*' be clearly and diftindly underftood. A
*' falfehood can never be clearly conceived or
*' apprehended to be true." Etern. and Im-
;jnut. MoraHty, p. 172, Eff^.

This Cartefian maxim feems to me to have
led the way to that now under confideration,
which feems to have been adopted as the pro-
per correction of the former.. When the au-
thority of Des Cartes declined, men began
to fee that we may clearly and diftin£lly con-
ceive what is not, true, but thought, that our
conception, though not in all cafes a teft of
truth, might be a teft of poffibility.

This

MISTAKES concerning CONCEPTION. 53

This indeed feems to be a neceffary confe-C HAP.
quence of the received doftrine of ideas; it ,ji^^,^
being evident, that there can be no diftind
image, either in the mind or any where elfe,
of that which is impoffible. The ambiguity
of the word conceive^ which we obferved Effay
I. chap. I. and the common phrafeology of
faying we cannot conceive fuch a thing, when
we would fignify that we think it impoffible,
might likewife contribute to the reception of ■
this dodrine.

But whatever was the origin of this opinion,
it feems to prevail univerfally, and to be re-
ceived as a maxim.

" The bare having an idea of the propofition
** proves the thing not to be impoffible; for
" of an impoffible propofition there can be no
" idea." Dr. Sam. Clarke.

" Of that which neither does nor can exift
" we can have no idea." L. Bolingbroke.
" The meafure of impoffibility to us is in-
" conceivablenefs, that of which we can have
*' no idea, but that reflefting upon it, it ap-
*' pears to be nothing, we pronounce to be
" impoffible." Abbernethy.

" In every idea is implied the poffibility of
" the exiflence of its objeft, nothing being
" clearer than that there can be no idea of an
" impoffibility, or conception of what cannot
" exift." Dr. Price.

" Impoffibile eft cujus nullam notionem for-
" mare poffiimus; poffibile e contra, cui ali-
" qua refpondet notio." Wolfii Ontolog.
" It is an eftablifhed maxim in metaphyfics,
" that whatever the mind conceives, includes
" the idea of poffible exiftence, or, in other
" words, that nothing we imagine is abfolutely
" impoffible." D. Hums, - ••

It

54 ^ E S S A Y IV.

It were eafy to mufter up many other ref-
pcftable authorities for this maxim, and I have
never found one that called it in queftion.

If the maxim be true in the extent which
the famous Wolfius has given it, in the paf-
fage above quoted, we fhall have a fhort road
to the determination of every queflion about
the poiTibility or impoliibility of things. We
need only look into our own bread, and that,
like the Urim and Thummim, will give an in-
fallible anfwer. If we can conceive the thing,
it is poffible; if not, it is impoffible. And
furely every man may know whether he can
conceive what is affirmed or not.

Other Philofophers have been fatisfied with
one half of the maxim of Wolfius. They
fay, that whatever we can conceive is poffible ;
but they do not fay, that whatever we cannot
conceive is impoffible.

I cannot help thinking even this to be a mif-
take, which Philofophers have been unwarily
led into, from the caufes before mentioned.
My reafons are thefe :

I. Whatever is faid to be poffible or impof-
fible is expreffisd by a propofition. Now,
What is it to conceive a propofition? I think
it is no more than to underfland diftinctly its
meaning. I know no more that can be meant
by fimple apprehenfion or conception, when
applied to a propofition. The axiom, there-
fore, amounts to this: Every propofition, of
which you underftand the meaning diftinclly,
is poffible. I am perfuaded, that I underftand
as diftindlly the meaning of this propofition.
Any twojtdes of a triangle are together equal to
the thirds as of this, Any two fides of a triangle
are together greater than the third; yet the firft
of thefe is impoffiblci

Perhaps

MISTAKES concerning CONCEPTION. SS

Perhaps it will be faid, that though you un-^ HAP.
derfland the meaning of the impoffible propo-
fition, you cannot fuppofc or conceive it to be
true.

Here we are to examine the meaning of the
phrafes oi fiippofing and conceiving a propofition
to be true. I can certainly fuppofe it to be
true, becaufe I can draw confequences from it
which I find to be impoffible, as well as the pro-
pofition itfehS.

If by conceiving it to be true be meant giv-
ing fome degree of afient to it, however fmall,
this, I confefs, I cannot do. But will it be
faid, that every propofition to which I can give
any degree of alTent is poffible? This contra-
dicts experience, and therefore the maxim can-
not be true in this fenfe.

Sometimes, when we fay that we cannot con^
c^ive a thing to be true, we mean by that ex-
preffion, that we Judge it to be impojjible. In this
fenfe, I cannot, indeed, conceive it to be true,
that two fides of a triangle are equal to the
third. I judge it to be impoffible. If, then,
we undcritand in this fenfe that maxim, that
nothing we can conceive is impoffible, the
meaning will be, that nothing is impoffible
which we judge to be poinble. But does it not
often happen, that what one man judges to be
poffible, another man judges to be impoffible?
The maxim, therefore, is not true in tiiis
fenfe.

1 am not able to find any other meaning of
conceiving a propofition^ or of conceiving it to hs
true, befides thcfe I have mentioned. 1 know
nothing that can be meant by having the idea
of a propofition, but either the underflanding
its^ meaning, or the judging of its truth. lean

underftand

S6 ESSAY IV.

C H A P-underftand a proportion that is falfe or impofli-
ble, as wei! as one that is true or pofTible ; and

^^^'^^I find that men have contradictory judgments
about what is pofiible or impoflible, as well as
about other things. In what fenfe then can it
be faid, that the having an idea of a propor-
tion gives certain evidence that it is poffible ?

If it be faid, that the idea of a propofition
is an image of it in the mind ; I think indeed
there cannot be a diftind image either in the
mind, or elfewhere, of that which is impofli-
ble ; but what is meant by the image of a pro-
pofition I am not able to comprehend, and I
fliall be glad to be informed.

2. Every propofition that is neceflarily true,
ftands oppofed to a contradictory propofition
that is impoffible ; and he that conceives one,
conceives both : Thus a man who believes that
two and three neceflarily make five, mufl be-
lieve it to be impoffible that two and three
fhould not make five. He conceives both pro-
pofitions when he believes one. Every propo-
fition carries its contradiftory in its bofom, and
both are conceived at the fame time. " It is
" confefled, fays Mr. Hume, that in all cafes
" where we diflent from any perfon, we con-
" ceive both fides of the queflion, but we can
" believe only one." From this it certainly
follows, that when we diifent from any perfon
about a necefiarv propofition, we conceive one
that is impoffible ; yet I know no Philofopher
who has made fo much ufe of the maxim, that
whatever we conceive is poffible, as Mr.
Hume. A great part of his peculiar tenets is
built upon it ; and if it is true, they mufl; be
true. But he did not perceive, that in the

paflage

MISTAKES concerning CONCEPTION. 5^:

paffage now quoted, the truth of which is evi-C H A P.
dent, he contradicts it himfelf. ^^^- ^

!:^. Mathematicians have, in many ciifes, pro-
ved fome things to be poffible, and others to
be impolTible ; which, without demonftration,
would not have been believed : Yet I have
never found, that any Mathematician has at-
tempted to prove a thing to be poffible, be-
caufe it can be conceived ; or impoffible, be-
caufe it cannot be conceived. Why is not tliis
maxim applied to determine whether it is poffi-
ble to fquare the circle ? a point about which
very eminent Mathematicians have differed.
It is eafy to conceive, that in the infinite feries
of numbers, and intermediate fradions, fome
one number, integral or fractional, may bear
the fame ratio to another, as the fide of a
fquare bears to its diagonal ; yet, however con-
ceivable this may be, it may be demonflrated
to be impoffible.

4. Mathematicians often require us to con-
ceive things that are impoffible, in order to
prove them to be fo. This is the cafe in all
their demonftrations, ad abfurdiwi. Conceive,
fays Euclid, a right line drawn from one
point of the circumference of a circle to ano-
ther, to fall without the circle ; I conceive this,
I reafon from it, until I come to a confequence
that is manifeftly abfurd ; and from thence
conclude, that the thing which I conceived is
impoffible.

Having faid fo much to fhew, that our pow-
er of conceiving a propofition is no criterion
of its poffibility or impoffibihty, I ffiall add a
few obfervations on the extent of our know-

ledge of this kind.

I. There

S^ E S S A Y IV.

CHAP. I. There are many propofitions which, by
^^^- the facukies God has given us, we judge to be
neceilary, as well as true. All mathematical
propofitions a,re of this kind, and many others.
The contradidories of fuch propofitions mud
be iinpoffible. Our knowledge, therefore, of
what is impoffible, mud at leaft be as exten-
five as our knowledge of neceffary truth.

2. By our fenfes, by memory, by teftimony,
and by other means, we know many things to
be true, which do not appear to be necelfary.
But whatever is true, is poffible. Our know-
ledge, therefore, of what is poffible, muft at
leail extend as far as our knowledge of truth.

3. If a man pretends to determine the poffi-
bility or impoffibility of things beyond thefe
limits, let him bring proof. I do not fay that
no ftich proof can be brought. It has been
brought in many cafes, particularly in mathe-
matics. But I fay, that his being able to con-
ceive a thing, is no proof that it is poffible.
Mathematics afford many inftances of impoffi-
bilities in the nature of things^ which no man
would have believed, if they had not been
ftridly demonftrated. Perhaps, if we were
able to reafon demonftratively in other fub-
jecls, to as great extent as in mathematics, we
might find many things to be iinpoffible, which
we conclude, without hefitation, to be poffible.

It is poffible, you fay, that God might have
made an univerfe of fenfible and rational crea-
tures, into which neither natural nor moral
evil fhould ever enter. It may be fo, for
what I know : But how do you know that it is
poffible ? That you can conceive it, I grant ;
but this is no proof. I cannot admit, as an
argument, or even as a preffing difficulty,

what

Of the Train of Thought in the Mind. 5^

what is grounded on the fuppofition that fudi CHAP,
a thing is poffible, when there is no good evi- ^^•
dence that it is poilible, and, for any thing we "''"'
know, it may in the nature of things be im«
poffible.

C- II A P. IV.

Of ihe 'Train of 'Thought in the Mind.

EVERY man is confcious of a fucceffion.
of thoughts which pafs in his mind while
he is awake, even when they are not excited
by external objefts.

The mind on this account may be compared
to liquor in the (late of fermentation. When
it is not in this ftate, being once at reft, it
remains at reft, until it is moved by fome ex-
ternal impulfe. But, in the ftate of fermenta-
tion, it has fome caufe of motion in itfelf,
which, even when there is no impulfe from
without, fuifers it not to be at reft a moment,
but produces a cpnftant motion and ebullition,
while it continues to ferment.

There is furely no fmiilitude between motion
and thought ; but there is an analogy, fo ob-
vious to all men, that the fame words are often
applied to both ; and many modifications ot
thought have no name but fuch as is borrowed
from the modifications of motion. Many
thoughts are excited by the fenfes. The cau-
fes or occafions of thefe may be confidered as
external : But, when fuch external caufes do
not operate upon us, we continue to think
from fome internal caufe. From the conftitu-
tion of the mind itfelf there is a conftant ebul-
lition

Co ESSAY IV.

C H A P.lltlon of thought, a conftant Inteftine motion;
• not only of thoughts barely fpeculative, but of
^'^'"^ fentiments, paffions and afleftions, which at-
tend them.

This continued fucceffion of thought has,
by modern Philofophers, been called the ima'
gination. I think it was formerly called the
fancy, or the phantafy. If the old name be
laid alide, it were to be wilhed that it had got
a name lefs ambiguous than that of imaginati-
on, a name which had two or three meanings
befides.

It is often called the train of ideas. This
may lead one to think that it is a train of bare
conceptions ; but this would furely be a mif-
take. It is made up of many other operations
of mind, as well as of conceptions, or ideas.

Memory, judgment, reafoning, paffions, af-
feftions and purpofes ; in a word, every ope-
ration of the mind, excepting thofe of fenfe, is
exerted occafionally in this train of thought,
and has its fhare as an ingredient : So that we
muft take the word idea in a very extenfive
fenfe, if v/e make the train of our thoughts to
be only a train of ideas.

To pafs from the name, and confider the
thing, we may obferve, that the trains of
thought in the mind are of two kinds ; they
are either fuch as flow fpontaneoufly, like wa-
ter from a fountain, without any exertion of a
governing principle to arrange them ; or they
are regulated and directed by an adive effort
of the mind, with fome view and intention.

Before we confider thefe in their order, it is
proper to premife, that thefe two kinds, how-
ever diftind in their nature, are for the moil

part

Of the Train of Thought in the Mind. 6i

part mixed, in perfons awake and come toC H A P.
years of underftanding. y_^ -.it

On the one hand, we are rarely fo vacant
of all project and defign, as to let our thoughts
take their own courfe, without the leaft check
or direction : Or if at any time we fhould be
in this flate, fome objed; will prefent itfelf,
■which is too interefting not to engage the at-
tention, and roufe the a£live or contemplative
powers that were at reft.

On the other hand, when a man is giving
the moft intenfe application to any fpeculation,
or to any fcheme of condufl:, when he wills to
exclude every thought that is foreign, to his
prefent purpofe, fuch thoughts will often im-
pertinently intrude upon him, in fpite of his
endeavours to the contrary, and occupy, by a
kind of violence, fome part of the time defti-
ned to another purpofe. One man may have
the command of his thoughts more than ano-
ther man, and the fame man more at one time
than at another : But I apprehend, in the beft
trained mind the thoughts will fometimes be
reftive, fometimes capricious and felf-willed,
when wc wifti to have them moft under com-
mand.

It has been obferved very juftly, that we
muft not afcribe to the mind the power of cal-
ling up any thought at pleafure, becaufe fuch
a call or volition fuppofes that thought to be
already in the mind ; for otherwife, how
fliould it be the objeQ: of volition ? As this
muft be granted on the one hand, fo it is no
lefs certain on the other, that a man has a con-
fiderable power in regulating and difpofmg his
own thoughts. Of this every man is confci-

ous.

62 E S S A Y IV.

CHAP, ous, and I can no more doubt of it, than 1
*• can doubt whether I think at all.

We feem to treat the thoughts that prefent
themfelves to the fancy in crowds, as a great
man treats thofe that attend his levee. They
are all ambitious of his attention ; he goes
round the circle, bellowing a bow upon one,
a fmile upon another ; afks a (liort queftion of
a third ; while a fourth is honoured with a
particular conference ; and the greater part
have no particular mark of attention, but go
as they came. It is true, he can give no mark
of his attention to thofe who were not there,
but he has a fufficient number for making a
choice and diftinftion.

In like manner, a number of thoughts pre-
fent themfelves to the fancy fpontaneoufly j
but if we pay no attention to them, nor hold
any conference with them, they pafs with the
crowd, and are immediately forgot, as if they
had never appeared. But thofe to which we
think proper to pay attention, may be flopped,
examined, and arranged, for any particular
purpofe we have in view.

It may Ukewife be obferved, that a train of
thought, which was at firfl compofed by appli-
cation and judgment, when it has been often
repeated, and becomes familiar, will prefent
itfelf fpontaneoufly. Thus when a man has
compofed an air in mufic, fo as to pleafe his
own ear ; after he has played, or fung it often,
the notes v»'ill arrange themfelves in juft order;
and it requires no etfort to regulate their fuc-
ceflion.

Thus we fee, that the fancy is made up of
trains of thinking ; fome of which are fponta-
neous, others ftudied and regulated j and the

greater

Of the Train of Thought in the Mind^ Cr

greater part are mixed of both kinds, andCHAP.
take their denomination from that which is IV.
mod prevalent : And that a train of thought, ' ^~^
which at firfl was ftudied and compofed, may
by habit prefent itfelf fpontaneouily. Having
-premifed thefe things, let us return to thofe
trains of thought which are fpontaneous, which
mud be firfl in the order of nature.

When the work of the day is over, and a
man lies down to relax his body and mind, he
cannot ceafe from thinking, though he defires
it. Something occurs to his fancy ; that is fol-
lowed by another thing, and fo his thoughts are
carried on from one obje£t to another, until
ileep clofes the fcene.

In this operation of the mind, it is not one
faculty only that is employed ; there are many
that join together in its production. Some-
times the tranfactions of the day are brought
upon the ftage, and afted over again, as it
were, upon this theatre of the imagination.
-In this cafe, memory furely acts the mofl con-
fiderable part, fmce the fcenes exhibited are
•not fidions, but realities, which we remem-
ber ; yet in this cafe the memory does not a£t
alone, other powers are employed, and attend
upon their proper objects. The tranfaftions
remembered will be more or lefs interefting ;
and we cannot then review our own conduct,
-nor that of others, without paffing fome judg-
-ment upon it. This we approve, that we dif-
-approve. This elevates, that humbles and de-
rpreflfes us. Perfons that are not abfolutely in-
' different to us, can hardly appear, even to the
imagination, without fome friendly or un-
- friendly emotion. We j udge and reafon about
things, as well as perfons in fuch reveries. We

remember

64 ESSAY IV.

CHAP, remember what a man faid and did ; from this

TV

^^/l we pafs to his defigns, and to his general cha-
racter, and frame fome hypothefis to make the
whole confident. Such trains of thought we
may call hiftorical.

There are others which we may call roman-
tic, in which the plot is formed by the creative
power of fancy, without any regard to what
did or will happen. In thefe alio, the powers
of judgment, tafle, moral fentiment, as well
as the paflions and affeftions, come in and
take a fhare in the execution.

In thefe fcenes, the man himfelf commonly
a£ts a very diftinguifhed part, and feldom
does any thing which he cannot approve.
Here the mifer will be generous, the coward
brave, and the knave honed. Mr. Addison,
in the Spedator, calls this play of the fancy,
cadle building.

The young Politician, who has turned his
thoughts to the affairs of government, becomes
in his imagination a minider of date. He ex-
amines every fpring and wheel of the machine
of government with the niced eye, and the
mod exact judgment. He finds a proper re-
medy for every diforder of the commonwealth,
quickens trade and manufactures by falutary
laws, encourages arts and fciences, and makes
the nation happy at home, and refpected
abroad. He feels the reward of his good ad-
minidration, in that felf-approbation which at-
tends it, and is happy in acquiring, by his
wife and patriotic conduct, the bleflings of the
prefent age, and the praifes of thofe that are
to come.

It is probable, that, upon the dage of ima-
gination, more great exploits have been per-
formed

Of the Train of Thought in the Mind. ^^

formed in every age, than have been upon theC M A P.
flage of life from the beginning of the v\'orld. ^' •
An innate defire of felf-approbation is undoubt-
edly a part of the human conllitution. It is a
powerful fpur to worthy conduct, and is in-
tended as fuch by the Author of our being.
A man cannot be eafy or happy, unlefs this
defire be in fome meafure gratified. While he
conceives himfelf worthlefs and bafe, he can
relilh no enjoyment. The humiliating morti-
fying fentiment muft be removed, and this na-
tural defire of felf-approbation will either pro-
duce a noble effort to acquire real worth, which
is its proper direQion, or it will lead into fome
of thofe arts of felf-deceit, which create a falfe
opinion of worth.

A caftle builder in the ficlitioiis fcenesof his
fancy, will figure, not according to his real
charader, but according to the highefl opinion
he has been able to form of himfelf, and per-
haps far beyond that opinion. For in thofe
imaginary conflicts the paliions eafily yield to
reafon, and a man exerts the noblelt efforts of
virtue and magnanimity, with the fame eafe,
as, in his dreams, he flies through the air, or
plunges to the bottom of the ocean.

The romantic fcenes of fancy are mofl com-^
monly the occupation of young minds, not yet
fo deeply engaged in life as to have their
thoughts taken up by its real cares and bufi-
nefs.

Thofe aftive powers of the mind, which are
mofl luxuriant by conffcitution, or have been
mofl cherifhed by education, impatient to ex-
ert themfelves, hurry the thought into fcenes
that give them play ; and the boy commences
in imagination, according to the bent of his

Vol. II. F mind,

66 E S S A Y IV.

CHAP, mind, a general or a flatefman, a poet or an
^Si^ orator.

When the fair ones become caflle builders,
they life different materials ; and while the
young foldier is carried into the field of Mars,
■where he pierces the thickeft fquadrons of the
enemy, defpifmg death in all its forms, the
gay and lovely nymph, whofe heart has never
felt the tender paffion, is tranfported into a
brilliant nlfembly, where flie draws the atten-
tion of every eye, and makes an impreflion on
the nobleft heart.

But no fooner has Cupid's arrow found Its
way into her own heart, than the whole fcenery
of her imagination is changed. Balls and
alTemblies have now no charms. Woods and
groves, the flowery bank, and the cryftal foun-
tain, are the fcenes llie frequents in imagina-
tion. She becomes an Arcadian fhepherdefs,
feeding her flock befide that of her Strephon,
and wants no more to complete her happinefs.

In a few years the love-fick maid is trans-
formed into the folicitous mother. Her fmi-
ling offspring play around her. She views
them with a parents eye. Her imagina-
tion immediately raifes them to manhood, and
brings them forth upon the ftage of life. One
ton makes a figure in the army, another fhines
5it the bar ; her daughters are happily difpofed
of in marriage, and bring new alliances to the
family. Her childrcns children rife up before
her, and venerate her gray hairs.

Thus the fpontaneous fallies of fancy are as
yarious as the cares and fears, the defires and
hopes, of man.

Slukquid agiint hom'nus^ voium, tinwr, ira,
voluptas,

Gaudia, difcurfiis :

Thefc

Of the Train of Thought in the Mind. 67

Thefe fill up the fcenes of fancy, as well as theC H A p.
page of the Satyrift. Whatever pofleffes the ^^•
heart makes occafional excurfions into the*^
imagination, and a£ls fuch fcenes upon that
theatre as are agreeable to the prevailing palli-
on. The man of traffic, who has committed
a rich cargo to the inconftant ocean, follows
it in his thought ; and, according as his hopes
or his fears prevail, he is haunted with florms,
and rocks, and fliipwreck ; or he makes a hap-
py and a lucrative voyage ; and before his vefTel
has loft fight of land, he has difpofed of the
profit which fhe is to bring at her return.

The Poet is carried into the Elyfian fields,
where he converfes with the ghofts of Homer
and Orpheus. The Philofopher makes a
tour through the planetary fyftem, or goes
down to the centre of the earth, and examines
its various flrata. In the devout man likewife,
the great objecls that poffefs his heart often
play in his imagination j fometimes he is tranf-
ported to the regions of the bleffed, from
whence he looks down with pity upon the folly
and the pageantry of human life ; or he prof-
trates himfelf before the throne of the Moft
High with devout veneration ; or he converfes
with celeflial fpirits about the natural and mo-
ral kingdom of God, which he now fees only
by a faint light, but hopes hereafter to view
with a fteadier and brighter ray.

In perfons come to maturity, there is even in
thefe fpontaneousfallies of fancy, fome arrange-
ment of thought ; and I conceive that it will
be readily allowed, that in thofe who have the
greateft ftock of knowledge, and the beft na-
tural parts, even the fpontaneous movem.ents
of fancy will be the moft regular and connefted.
F 2 They

68 E S S A Y IV.

C H AP- They have an order, connexion, and unity,

^^- by which they are no lefs diftinguiflied from

^ the dreams of one afleep, or the ravings of one

delirious on the one hand, than from the fi-

nifhed produ£lions of art on the other.

How is this regular arrangement brought
about ? It has all the marks of judgment and
reafon, yet it feems to go before judgment,
and to fpring forth fpontaneoufly.

Shall we beUeve with Leibnitz, that the
mind was originally formed like a watch wound
up ; and that all its thoughts, purpofes, paffi-
ons, and adrons, are effefted by the gradual
evolution of the original fpring of the machine,
and fucceed each other in order, as neceflarily
as the motions and pulfations of a watch ?

If a child of three or four years, were put
to account for the phsenomena of a watch, he
would conceive that there is a little man with-
in the watch, or fome other little animal, that
beats continually, and produces the motion.
Whether the hypothecs of this young Philofo-
pher in turning the watch fpring into a man,
or that of the German Philofopher in turning
a man into a \vatch fpring, be the moft ration-
al, feems hard to determine.

To account for the regularity of our firfl
thoughts, from motions of animal fpirits, vi-
brations of nerves, attractions of ideas, or
from any other unthinking caufe, whether
mechanical or contingent, feems equally irra-
tional.

If we be not able to diftinguifli the ftrongefl
marks of thought and defign from the effeds
of mechanifm or contingency, the confequence
will be very melancholy : For it mufl neceflarily
follow, that we have no evidence of thought in

any

Of the Train of Thought in the Mind. 69

any of our fellow men, nay that we have noC H A P,
evidence of thought or defign in the ftrufture "^
and government of the univerfe. If a good ' """^
period or fentence was ever produced without
having had any judgment previoufly employed
about it, why not an Iliad or Eneid ? They
differ only in lefs and more ; and we ihould do
injuftice to the Philofopher of Laputa, in
laughing at his projeft of making poems by
the turning of a wheel, if a concurrence of
unthinking caufes may produce a rational train
of thought.

It is, therefore, in itfelf highly probable, to
fay no more, that whatfoever is regular and
rational in a train of thought, which prefents
itfelf fpontaneoufly to a man's fancy, without
any fludy, is a copy of what had been before
compofed by his own rational powers, or thofe
of fome other perfon»

We certainly judge fo in limilar cafes. Thus,
in a book 1 find a train of thinking, which has
the marks of knowledge and judgment. I alk
how it was produced ? It is printed in a book.
This does not fatisfy me, becaufe the book has
no knowledge nor reafon. I am told that a
printer printed it, and a compofitor fet the
types. Neither does this fatisfy me. Thefe
caufes perhaps knew very little of the fubject.
There muft be a prior caufe of the compofiti-
on. It was printed from a manufcript. True.
But the manufcript is as ignorant as the printed
book. The manufcript was written or didla-
ted by a man of knowledge and judgment.
This, and this only, will fatisfy a man of com-
mon underftanding ; and it appears to him
extremely ridiculous to believe that fuch a train
of thinking could originally be produced by
any caufe that neither reafons nor thinks.

Whether

70

ESSAY IV.

Whether fuch a train of thinking be printed
in a book, or printed, lo to fpeak, in his
mind, and ilTue fpontaneoufly from his fancy,
it mufl have been compofed with judgment by
himfelf, or by fome other rational being.

This, I think, will be confirmed by tracing
the progrefs of the human fancy as far back as
we are able.

We have not the means of knowing how the
fancy is employed in infants. Their time is
divided between the employment of their
fenfes and found fleep : So that there is little
time left for imagination, and the materials it
has to work upon are probably very fcanty.
A few days after they are born, fometimes a
few hours, we fee them fmile in their fleep.
But what they fmile at is not eafy to guefs ;
for they do not fmile at any thing they fee,
when awake, for fome months after they are
born. It is likewife common to fee them move
their lips in fleep, as if they were fucking.

Thefe things feem to difcover fome working
of the imagination ; but there is no reafon to
think that there is any regular train of thought
in the mind of infants.

By a regular train of thought, I mean that
which has a beginning, a middle, and an end,
an arrangement of its parts, according to
fome rule, or with fome intention. Thus,
the conception of a defign, and of the means
of executing it ; the conception of a whole,
and the number and order of the parts. Thefe
are inftances of the mod fmiple trains of
thought that can be called regular.

Man has undoubtedly a power (whether we
call it tafte or judgment, is not of any confe-
quence in the prefent argument) whereby he

diflinguilhes

Of the Train of Thought in the Mind. 71

diftinguifhes between a compofition, and a^HAP.
heap of materials ; between a houfe, for in- ^f X-»
ftance, and a heap of flones ; between a fcn-
tence and a heap of words ; between a pidure,
and a heap of colours. It does not appear to
me that children have any regular trains of
thought until this power begins to operate.
Thofe who are bprn fuch idiots as never to
fhew any figns of this power, fhow as little any
.iigns of regularity of thought. It feems, there-
fore, that this power is connecled with all re-
gular trains of thought, and may be the caufc
of them.

Such trains of thought difcover themfelves in
rhildren about two years of age. They can
then give attention to the operations of older
children in making their little houfes, and
ihips, and other fuch things, in imitation of
the works of men. They are then capable of
underflanding a little of language, which fliewj;
both a regular train of thinking, and fome
.degree of abftradio.n. I think wc may per-
ceive a diftiniftion between the faculties of
children of two or three years of age, and thofe
of the moft fagacious brutes. They can then
perceive defign and regularity in the works of
others, efpecially of older children ; their little
minds are fired with the difcovery ; they are
eager .to imitate it, and never at reft till they
caa exhibit fomething of the fame kind.

When a child iirft learns by imitation to do
fomething that requires defign, how does he
exult ! Pythagoras was not more happy in
the difcovery of his famous theorem. He
feems then firft to refiecl upon himfelf, and to
fwell with felf-cfteera. His eyes fparkle. He
is impatient ro fliew his performance to all

about

72 E S S A Y IV.

C H A P. about him, and thinks hi mfelf entitled to their
^^- applaufe. He is applauded by all, and feels
the fame emotion from this applaufe, as a Ro-
man Conful did from a triumph. He has now
a confcioufnefs ot fome worth in himfelf. He
aflumes a fuperiority over thofe who are not fo
wife ; and pays refpect to thofe who are wifer
than himfelf. He attempts fomething elfe, and
is every clay reaping new laurels.

As children grow up, they are dehghted
with tales, with childifh games, with deligns
and ftratagems : Every thing of this kind
ftores the fancy v\ith a new regular train of
thought, which becomes familiar by repetition,
fo that one part draws the whole after it in the
imagination.

The imagination of a child, like the hand of
a painter, is long employed in copying the
works of others, before it attempts any inven-
tion of its own.

The power of invention is not yet brought
forth, but it is coming forward, and, like the
bud of a tree, is ready to burft its integuments,
when fome accident aids its eruption.

There is no pov,'cr of the underilanding
that gives fo much pleafure to the owner as
that of invention ; whether it be employed in
mechanics, in fcience, in the conduct of life,
in poetry, in wit, or in the fine arts. One
who is confcious of it, acquires thereby a
worth and importance in his own eye which he
had not before. He looks upon himfelf as one
w^ho formerly lived upon the bounty and gratu-
ity of others, but who has now acquired fome
property of his own. ■ When this power begins
to be felt in the young mind, it has the grace
of novelty added to its other charms, and,

like

Of the Train of Thought in the Mind. 73

like the youngeft child of the family, is caref- CHAP,
fed beyond all the reft. , ^^'•

We may be fure, therefore, that as foon as
children are confcious of this power, they will
exercife it in fuch ways as are fuited to their
age, and to the objefts they are employed
about. This gives rife to innumerable new
alTociations, and regular trains of thought,
which make the deeper impreffion upon the
mind, as they are its exclufive property.

I am aware that the power of invention is
diftributed among men more unequally than
almoft any other. When it is able to produce
any thing that is interefting to mankind, we
call it genius ; a talent which is the lot of very
few. But there is perhaps a lower kind, or
lower degree of invention that is more com-
mon. However this may be, it muft be al-
lowed, that the power of invention in thofe
who have it, will produce many new regular
trains of thought ; and thefe being exprelTed in
works of art, in -writing, or in difcourfe, will
be copied by others.

Thus I conceive the minds of children, as
foon as they have judgment to diftinguifh what
is regular, orderly, and connected, from a
mere medley of thought, are furnifhed with
regular trains of thinking by thefe means.

Firjl and chiefly, by copying what they fee
in the works and in the difcourfe of others.
Man is the moft imitative of all animals ; he
not only imitates \n\h. intention, and purpofe-
ly, what he thinks has any grace or beauty,
but even without intention, he is led by a
kind of inftincl, which it is difficult to refift,
into the modes of fpeaking, thinking, and
acting, which he has been accuftomed to fee

in

74 ESSAY IV.

C H A P. in his early years. The more children fee of
• what is regular and beautiful in what is pre-
fented to them, the more ihey are led to ob-
ferve and to imitate it.

This is the chief part of their floek, and
.defcends to them by a kind of tradition from
thofe who came before them ; and we fhall
find, that the fancy of mod men is furnifhed
from thofe they have converfed with, as well
as their religion, language, and manners.

Secondly, By the additions or innovations
that are properly their own, thefe will be grea-
ter or leCs, in proportion to their fludy and
invention ; but in the bulk of mankind are not
very confiderable.

Every profellion, and every rank in life,
has a manner of thinking, and turn of fancy
that is proper to it ; by which it is characterifed
in comedies and works of humour. The
bulk of men of the fame nation, of the fame
rank, and of the fame occupation, are cafl as
it were in the fame mould. This mould itfelf
changes gradually, but flowly, by new inven-
tions, by intercourfe with ftrangers, or by
other accidents.

The condition of man requires a longer in-
fancy and youth than that of x^ther animals ;
for this reafon among others, that almoft every
flation in civil fociety requires a multitude of
regular trains of thought, to be not only ac-
quired, but to be made fo familiar by frequent
repetition, as to prefent themfelves fponta-
neoufly, when there is occafion for them.

The imagination even of men of good parts
never ferves them readily but in things where-
in it has been much exercifed. A Minifler of
State holds a conference with a foreign Am-

balTador,

Of the Train of Thought in the Mind. 75

baflador, with no greater emotion than a Pro- CHAP
feffor in a college prelects to his audience.
The imagination of each prefents to him what
the occafion requires to be faid, and how. Let
them change places, and both would find
thcmfelves at a lofs.

The habits which the human mind is capa-
ble of acquiring by exercife are wonderful in
many inftances ; in none more wonderful, than
in that verfatility of imagination which a well
bred man acquires, by being much exercifcd
in the various fcenes of life. In the morning
he vifits a friend in afflidion. Here his ima-
gination brings forth from its ftore every topic
of confolation ; every thing that is agreeable
to the laws of friendfhip and fympathy, and
nothing that is not fo. From thence he drives
to the Minifler's levee, where imagination
readily fuggefts what is proper to be faid or
replied to every man, and in what manner, ac-
cording to the degree of acquaintance or fami-
liarity, of rank or dependence, of oppofition
or occurrence of interefts, of confidence or
diftruft, that is between them. Nor does all
this employment hinder him from carrying on
fome defign with much artifice, and endea-
vouring to penetrate into the views of others
through the clofeft difguifes. From the levee
he goes to the Houfe of Commons, and fpeaks
upon the affairs of the nation ; from thence to
a ball or alfembly, and entertains the ladies-
His imagination puts on the friend, the cour-
tier, the patriot, the fine gentleman, with more
eafe than we put off" one fuit and put on ano-
ther, y y

This is the effefl of training and exercife.
For a man of equal parts and knowledge, but

unac-

-,(i ESSAY IV.

C K A p. unaccuftomed to thofe fcenes of public life, is
^^'- quite difconcerted when firft brought into
^^'^'^^ them. His thoughts are put to flight, and he
cannot rally them.

There are feats of imagination to be learned
by application and pratlice, as wonderful as
the feats of balancers and rope-dancers, and
often as ufelefs.

When a man can make a hundred verfes
{landing on one foot, or play three or four
games at chefs at the fame time without feeing
the board, it is probable he hath fpent his life
in acquiring fuch a feat. However, fuch un-
ufual pheenomena (hew what habits of imagi-
nation may be acquired.

When fuch habits are acquired and perfect-
ed, they are exercifed without any laborious
effort ; like the habit of playing upon an in-
flrument of mufic. There are innumerable
motions of the fingers upon the flops or keys,
which mufl be directed in one particular train
or fucceffion. There is only one arrangement
of thofe motions that is right, while there are
ten thoufand that are wrong, and would fpoil
the mufic. The Mufician thinks not in the
ieafl of the arrangement of thofe motions ; he
has a diilind; idea of the tune, and wills to
play it. The motions of the fingers arrange
hemfelves, fo as to anfwer his intention.

In hke manner, when a man fpeaks upon a
fubject with which he is acquainted, there is a
certain arrangement of his thoughts and words
neceifary to make his difcourfe fenfible, per-
tinent, and grammatical. In every fentence,
there are more rules of grammar, logic, and
rhetoric, that may be tranfgreffed, than there
are words and letters. He fpeaks without

thinking

Of the Train of Thought in the Mind. 77

thinking of any of thofe rules, and yet obferves^ ^ ^ ^'
them all, as if they were all in his eye. '

This is a habit fo fimilar to that of a player
on an inftrument, that I think both mufl be got
in the fame way, that is, by much practice,
and the power of habit.

When a man fpeaks well and methodically
upon a fubjed: without fludy, and with perfed
eafe, I believe we may take it for granted that
his thoughts run in a beaten track. There is
a mould in his mind, which has been formed
by much practice, or by fludy, for this very
fubjed, or for fome other fo fmiilar and ana-
logous, that his difcourfe falls into this mould
with eafe, and takes its form from it.

Hitherto we have confidered the operations
of fancy that are either fpontaneous, or at
lead require no laborious effort to guide and
dired: them, and have endeavoured to account
for that degree of regularity and arrangement
which is found even in them. The natural
powers of judgment and invention, the plea-
sure that always attends the exercife of thofe
powers, the means we have of improving thcni
by imitation of others, and the effed of prac-
tice and habits, feems to me fufficiently to ac-
count for this phsenomenon, without fuppofmg
any unaccountable attradions of ideas by
which they arrange themfelves.

But we are able to dired our thoughts in a
certain courfe fo as to perform a deflined talk.
Every work of art has its model framed in
the imagination. Here the Iliad of Homer,
the Republic of Plato, the Principia of New-
ton, were fabricated. Shall we beUeve, that
thofe works took the form in which they now

appear

7S ESSAY IV.

CHAF.appear of themfelves? That the fentlments,
^^- the ir/anners, and the pafiions arranged them-

^""'^'^^ lelves at once in the mind of Homer, fo as to
form the Iliad? Was there no more effort in.
the compofition, than there is in teUing a well-
known tale, or finging a favourite fong ? This
cannot be believed.

Granting that fome happy thought firft fug-
gefted the defign of fmging the wrath of
Achilles; yet, furely, it was a matter of
judgment and choice where the narration fliould
begin, and where it fliould end.

Granting that the fertility of the Poet's ima-
gination fuggefl:ed a variety of rich materials;
was not judgment neceifary to leleft what was
proper, to reject what was improper, to ar-
range the materials into a juft compofition,
and to adapt them to each other, and to the
defign of the whole?

No man can beheve that Homer's ideas,
merely by certain fympathies and antipathies,
by certain attractions and repulfions inherent
in their natures, arranged themfelves according
to the moft perfeft 'rules of Epic peetry; and
Nevvton's, according to the rules of mathe-
matical compofition.

I fliould fooner believe that the Poet, after
he invoked his Mufe, did nothing at all but
Men to the fong of the goddefs. Poets indeed,
and ether artifts, mufl make their works ap-
pear natural; but nature is the perfection of
art, and there can be no jufl; imitation of na-
ture without art : When the building is finiflied,
the rubbifh, the fcaffolds, the tools and en-
gines, are carried out of fight; but we know
it could not have been reared without them.

The

Of the Train of Thought in the Mind. 79

The train of thinking, therefore, is capable C HAP.
of being guided and direded, much in the
fame manner as the horfe we ride. The horfe
has his flrength, his agiUty, and his mettle in
himfelf; he has been taught certain move-
ments, and many ufeful habits that make him
more fubfervient to our purpofes, and obedient
to our will; but to accompHih a journey, he
muft be directed by the rider.

In like manner fancy has its original powers,
which are very different in different perfons ;
it has likewife more regular motions, to which
it has been trained by a long courfe of difci-
pline and exercife ; and by which it may extem-
pore, and without much effort, produce things
that have a confiderable degree of beauty, re-
gularity, and defign.

But the mofl perfed works of defign are ne-
ver extemporary. Our firfl thoughts are re-
viewed; we place them at a proper diftance;
examine every part, and take a complex view
of the whole: By our critical faculties, wc
perceive this part to be redundant, that defici-
ent; here is a want of nerves, there a want of
delicacy; this is obfcure, that too diffufe:
Things are marlhalled anew, according to a
fecond and more deliberate judgment; what
was deficient, is fupplied; what was diflocated,
is put in joint; redundances are lopped off,
and the whole polilhed.

Though Poets of all artifts make the higheft
claim to infpiration, yet if we believe Horace,
a competent judge, no production in that art
can have merit, which has not coft fuch labour
as this in the birth.

VosO!

Bo

ESSAY

IV.

CHAP.
IV.

Vos 0/
Pofupiiius fanguis^ cartneji reprehendite quod non
Malta dies, et multa litura coercuit, atque
Perfedum decies non cajiigavit ad unguem.

The conclufion I would draw from all that
has been fald upon this fubjecl is. That every
thing that is regular in that- train of thought^
which we call fancy or imagination, from the
little defigns and reveries of children, to the
grandeft productions of human genius, was
originally the offspring of judgment or tafte,
applied with fome effort greater or lefs. What
one perfon compofed with art and judgment,
is imitated by another with great eafe. What
a man himfelf at firfl compofed with pains,
becomes by habit fo familiar, as to offer itfelf
fpontaneoufly to his fancy afterwards: But no-
thing that is regular, was ever at firft conceived,
without defign, attention, and care.

I fhall now make a few refleftions upon a
theory which has been applied to account for
this fucceffive train of thought in the mind.
It was hinted by Mr. Hobbes, but has drawn
more attention fmce it was diltindly explained
by Mr. Hume.

That author thinks that the train of thought
in the mind is owing to a kind of attraction
which ideas have for other ideas that bear cer-
taiA relations to them. He thinks the complex
ideas, which are the common fubjefts of our
thoughts and reafoning, are owing to the fame
caufe. The relations which produce this at-
traction of ideas, he thinks, are thefe three
only, to wit, caufation, contiguity in time or
place, and fimilitude. He afferts that thefe
are the only general principles that unite ideas.
And having, in another place, occafion to

take

Of the Train of Thought /« the Mind. ' 8 r

take notice of contrariety as a principle of con-C HAP;
neftion among ideas, in order to reconcile this ^^•
to his fyflem, he tells us gravely, that contra-
riety may perhaps be confidered as a mixture
of caufation and refemblance. That ideas
which have any of thefe three relations do mu-
tually attra£l each other, fo that one of them,
being prefented to the fancy, the other is drawn
along with it, this he feems to think an origi-
nal property of the mind, or rather of the
ideas, and therefore inexplicable.

Firji^ I obferve with regard to this theory,
that although it is true that the thought of any
objeft is apt to lead us to the thought of its
caufe or effeft, of things contiguous to it in
time or place, or of things refembling it, yet
this enumeration of the relations of things
which are apt to lead us from one objeft to
another, is very inaccurate.

The enumeration is too large upon his own
principles ; but it is by far too fcanty in reality.
Caufation, according to his philofophy, implies
nothing more than a conftant conjunction ob-
ferved between the caufe and the efFeft, and
therefore contiguity mud include caufation,
and his three principles of attraction are re-
duced to two.

But when we take all the three, the enume-
ration is in reality very incomplete. Every
relation of things has a tendency, more or lefs,
to lead the thought, in a thinking mind, from
one to the other; and not only every relation,
but every kind of contrariety and oppolition.
What Mr. Hume fays, that contrariety may
perhaps be confidered as a mixture " of caufa-
tion and refemblance," I can as little compre-
VoL. 11. G hend

82 £ S S A Y IV.

C H A P.hend as if he had faid that figure may perhaps
^^' be confidered as a mixture of colour and

^-/^^^ found.

Our thoughts pafs eafily from the end to the
means; from any truth to the evidence on
which it is founded, the confequences that may
be drawn from it, or the ufe that may be made
of it. From a part we are eafily led to think
of the whole, from a fubject to its quaHties, or
from things related to the relation. Such tran-
fitions in thinking mud have been made thou*
fands of times by every man who thinks and
reafons, and thereby become, as it were, beat-
en tracks for the imagination.

Not only the relations of objects to each
other influence our train of thinking, but the
relation they bear to the prefent temper and
difpofition of the mind; their relation to the
habits we have acquired, whether moral or
intelle<5Lual; to the company we have kept, and
to the bufmefs in which we have been chiefly
employed. The fame event ^ill fuggefl very
different reflections to different perfons, and
to the fame perfon at different times, according
as he is in good or bad humour, as he is live-
ly or dull, angry or pleafed, melancholy or
cheerful.

Lord Kaimes, in his Elements of Criticifm,
and Dr. Gerard in his Efllay on Genius,
have given a much fuller and jufter enumera-
tion of the caufes that influence our train of
thinking, and I have nothing to add to what
they have faid on this fubject.

Secondly, Let us confider how far this attrac-
tion of ideas mufl: be refolved into original
qualities of human nature.

I be-

Of the Train of Thought in the Mind.

83

I believe the original principles of the mind,C HAP.
of which we can give no account, but that ^^•
fuch is our conflitution, are more in number ~ '
than is commonly thought. But we ought not
to multiply them without neceffity.

That trains of thinking, which by frequent
repetition have become familiar, fliould fpon-
taneoufly offer themfelves to our fancy, feems
to require no other original quality but the
power of habit.

In all rational thinking, and in all rational
difcourfe, whether ferious or iacetious, the
thought muft have fome relation to what went
before. Every man, therefore, from the dawn
of reafon, mud have been accuftomed to a
train of related objeds. Thefe pleafe the un-
derflanding, and by cuftom become like beat-
en tracks which invite the traveller.

As far as it is in our power to give a direction
to our thoughts, which it is undoubtedly in a
great degree, they will be directed by the ac-
tive principles common to men, by our appe-
tites, our paffions, our affections, our reafon,
and confcience. And that the trains of think-
ing in our minds are chiefly governed by thefe,
according as one or another prevails at the time,
every man will find in his experience.

If the mind is at any time vacant from every
paiiion and defire, there are ftill fome objects
that are more acceptable to us than others.
The facetious man is pleafed with furprifmg
fimilitudes or contrails; the Philofopher with
the relations of things that are fubfcrvient to
reafoning; the merchant with what tends to
pront ; and the Politician with what may mend
the llate.

G 2 A good

84 E S S A Y IV.

CHAP. A good writer of comedy or romance can
^^- feign a train of thinking for any of the perfons
of his fable, which appears very natural, and
is approved by the beil judges. Now, what
is it that entitles fuch a fiftion to approbation?
Is it that the author has given a nice attention
to the relations of caufation, contiguity, and
fimilitude in the ideas ? This furely is the lead
part of its merit. But the chief part confifts
in this, that it correfponds perfectly with the
general char after, the rank, the habits, the
prefent fituation and paffions of the perfon. If
this be a jufl way of judging in criticifm, it
follows neceffarily, that the circumftances lad
mentioned have the chief influence in fuggefl-
ing our trains of thought.

It cannot be denied, that the flate of the
body has an influence upon our imagination,
according as a man is fober or drunk, as he is
fatigued or refrefhed. Crudities and indigeflii-
Qn are faid to give uneafy dreams, and have
probably a like effed: upon the waking thoughts.
Opium gives to fome perfons pleafmg dreams,
and pleaiing imaginations when awake, and to
others fuch as are horrible and difl:refling,

Thefe influences of the body upon the mind
can only be known by experience, and I be-
lieve we can give no account of them.

Nor can we, perhaps, give any reafon why
we mufl think without ceafing while we are
awake. I believe we are likcwife originally
difpofed, in imagination, to pafs from any one
objeft of thought to others that are contiguous
to it in time or place. This, I think, may be
obferved in brutes and in idiots, as well as in
children, before any habit can be acquired that
might account for it. The fight of an object

13

Of the Train 0/ Thought m the Mind. ^s

IS apt to fugged to the imagination what hasC HAP.
been feen or felt in conjunftion with it, even ^^•
when the memory of that conjunftion is gone.

Such conjunctions of things influence not
only the imagination, but the belief and the
paffions, efpecially in children and in brutes ;
and perhaps all that we call memory in brutes
is fomething of this kind.

They ex{^e£t events in the fame order and
fucceflion in which they happened before ; and
by. this expeftation, their adions and paffions^
as well as their thoughts, are regulated. A
horfe takes fright at the place where fome objett
frighted him before. We are apt to conclude
from this, that he remembers the former acci-
dent. But perhaps there is only an affociation
formed in his mind between the place and the
paflion of fear, without any difl:in£t remem-
brance.

Mr. Locke has given us a very good chap-
ter upon the aflbciation of ideas ; and by the
examples he has given to illuflrate this dodrine,
I think it appears that very ftrong affociations
may be formed at once ; not of ideas to ideas
only, but of ideas to paflions and emotions ;
and that ftrong aifociations are never formed
at once, but when accompanied by fome ftrong
paffion or emotion. I believe this muft be re-
folved into the conftitution of our nature.

Mr. Hume's opinion, that the complex
ideas, which are the common objefts of dif-
courfe and reafoning, are formed by thofe ori-
ginal attractions of ideas, to which he afcribes
the train of thoughts in the mind, will come
under confideration in another place.

To put an end to our remarks upon this theo-
ry of Mr. Hume, I think he has real merit in

bringing

86 E S S A Y IV.

CHAP, bringing this curious fubjcd under the view of
• Philolbphers, and carrying it a certain length.
But I fee nothing in this theory that fliould
hinder us to conclude, that every thing in the
trains of our thought, which bears the marks
of judgment and reafon, has been the product
of judgment and reafon previoufly exercifedj
either by the perfon himfelf, at that or fome
former time, or by fome other perfon. The
attradion of ideas will be the fame in a man's
fccond thoughts upon any fubjecl as in his firft.
Or if fome change in his circumflances, or in
the objefts about him, fhould make any change
in the attractions of his ideas, it is an equal
chance whether the fecond be better than the
firfl, or whether they be worfe. But it is cer-
tain that every man of judgment and tafte will,
upon a review, correct that train of thought
which firfl prefented itfel£ If the attractions
of ideas are the fole caufes of the regular ar-
rangement^of thought in the fancy, there is no
ufe for judgment or tafte in any compofition,
nor indeed any room for their operation.

There are other reflections of a more practi-
cal nature, and of higher importance, to
which this fubjeCt leads.

I believe it will be allowed by every man,
that our happinefs or mifery in life, that our
improvement in any art or fcience which we
profefs, and that our improvement in real vir-
tue and goodnefs, depend in a very great de-
greee on the train of thinking, that occupies
the mind both in our vacant and in our more
ferious hours. As far therefore as the directi-
on of our thoughts is in our power, (and that
it is fo in a great meafure, cannot be doubted)
it is of the lafl importance to give them that

direction

Of the Train o/'Thought in the Mind. 87

diredlon which is moft fubfervient to thofe^^AP.
valuable purpofes.

What employment can he have worthy of a
man, whofe imagination is occupied only about
things low and bafe, and grovels in a narrow
field of mean unanimating and uninterefling
objects, infenfible to thofe finer and more de-
hcate fentiments, and blind to thofe more en-
larged and nobler views which elevate the foul,
and make it confcious of its dignity.

How different from him, whofe imagination,
Hke an eagle in her flight, takes a wide prof-
pe£l, and obferves whatever it prefents, that
is new or beautiful, grand or important, whofe
rapid wing varies the fcene every moment,
carrying him fometimes through the fairy re-
gions of wit and fancy, fometimes through the
more regular and fober walks of fcience and
philofophy.

The various objefts which he furveys, ac-
cording to their different degrees of beauty and
dignity, raife in him the lively and agreeable
emotions of tafte. Illuftrious human charac-
ters, as they pafs in review, clothed with their
moral qualities, touch his heart ftill more deep-
ly. They not only awaken the fenfe of beauty,
but excite the fentiment of approbation, and
kindle the glow of virtue.

While he views what is truly great and glo-
rious in human conduct, his foul catches the
divine flame, and burns with defire to emulate
what it admires.

The human imagination is an ample thea-
tre, upon which every thing in human Hfe,
good or bad, great or mean, laudable or
bdfe, is aded.

In

88 E S S A Y IV.

CHAP. In children, and in fome frivolous minds,
^ it is a mere toy-fhop. And in fome, who ex-

^^^^^^^^ ercife their memory without their judgment,
its furniture is m>ade up of old fcraps of know-
ledge, that are thread-bare and worn-out.

In fome, this theatre is often occupied by
ghaflly fuperfliticn, with all her train of Gor-
gojis, and Hydras, and Chimeras dire. Some-
times it is haunted with all the infernal de-
mons, and made the forge of plots, and ra-
pine, and murder. Here every thing that is
black and deteftable is firft contrived, and a
thoufand wicked deligns conceived that are
never executed. Here, too, the Furies a£t
their part, taking a fevere though fecret ven-
geance upon the felf-condemned criminal.

How happy is that mind, in which the light
of real knowledge difpels the phantoms of fu-
perflition : In which the belief and reverence
of a perfect all-governing Mind calls out all
fear but the fear of afting wrong : In which
ferenity and cheerfulnefs, innocence, huma-
nity, and candour, guard the imagination
againft the entrance of every unhallowed intru-
der, and invite more amiable and worthier
guefts to dwell !

There fliall the Mufes, the Graces, and the
Virtues, fix their abode ; for every thing that
is great and worthy in human conduQ: mull
have been conceived in ihe imagination before
it was brought into ad. And many great and
good defigns have been formed there, which,
for want of power and opportunity, have pro-
ved abortive.

The man, whofe imagination is occupied
by thefe guefts, muft be wifej he muft be
good ; and he muft be happy.

ESSAY

89

E S S A Y V.

OF ABSTRACTION.
CHAP. I.

Of General Words*

THE words we ufe in language are either
general words, or proper names. Pro-
per names are intended to fignify one individual
only. Such are the names of men, kingdoms,
provinces, cities, rivers, and of every other crea-
ture of God, or work of man, which we chufe
to diftinguifh from all others of the kind, by a
name appropriated to it. All the other words of
language are general words, not appropriated
to fignify any one individual thing, but equally
related to many.

Under general words therefore, I compre-
hend not only thofe which Logicians call ge-
neral terms, that is, fuch general words as
may make the fubjefl: or the predicate of a pro-
pofition, but likewife their auxiharies or ac-
ceffories, as the learned Mr. Harris calls
them ; fuch as prepofitions, conjundions, ar-
ticles, which are all general words, though
they cannot properly be called general terms.

In every language, rude or polifhed, gene-
ral words make the greatefl part, and proper
names the leaft. Grammarians have reduced
all words to eight or nine clafles, which are

called

90 E S S A Y V.

C H A F.ciillcd parts of fpeech. Of thefe there is only
*• one, to wit, that of ?2om2s, wherein proper
names are found. All pronouns, verbs^ parti-
ticiples, adverbs, articles, prcpofitions, conjunc-
tions, and inter jeclions, are general words. Of
nouns, all adjehi'ves are general words, and the
greater part q{ Jubfianti'ves. Every fubftantive
that has a plural number, is a general word ;
for no proper name can have a plural number,
becaufe it fignifies only one individual. In all
the fifteen books of Euclid's Elements, there
is not one v/ord that is not general ; and the
fame may be faid of many large volumes.

At the fame time it muil be acknowledged,
that all the obje£ls we perceive are individuals.
Every object of fenfe, of memory, or of con-
fcioufnefs, is an individual objecl:. All the
good things we enjoy or defire, and all the
evils we feel or fear, muft come from individu-
als ; and I think we may venture to fay, that
every creature which God has made in the
heavens above, or in the earth beneath, or in
the waters under the earth, is an individual.

How comes it to pafs then, that in all lan-
guages general words make the greatefl part of
the language, and proper names but a very
fmall and inconfiderable part of it ?

This feeming ftrange phasnomenon may, I
think, be eafily accounted for by the following
obfervations.

Firjl, Though there be a few individuals
that are obvious to the notice of all men, and
therefore have proper names in all languages ;
fuch as the fun and moon, the earth and fea ;
yet the greateft part of the things to which we
think fit to give proper names are local ; known
perhaps to a village or to a neighbourhood,

but

OF GENERAL WORDS. 9!

but unknown to the greater part of thofe who C H A PI
ipeak the fame language, and to all the reft of ^- .
mankind. The names of fiich things being
confined to a corner, and liaving no names
anfwering to them in other languages, are not
accounted a part of the language, any more
than the cuftoms of a particular hamlet are ac-
counted part of the lav/ of the nation.

For this reafon, there are but few proper
names that belong to a language. It is next
to be confidered why there mull be many ge-
neral words in every language.

Secondly, It may be obferved, that every in-
dividual objecl that falls within our view has
various attributes ; and it is by them that it
becomes ufeful or hurtful to us : We know
not the effence of any individual objed: ; all
the knowledge we can attain of it, is t\it
knowledge of its attributes ; its quantity, its
various qualities, its various relations to other
things, its place, its fituation, anc{ motionv'?.
It is by fuch attributes of things only that we
can communicate our knowledge of them -to
others : By their attributes, our hopes or fears
from them are regulated ; and it is only by
attention to their attributes that we can make
them fubfervient to our ends ; and therefore
we give names to fuch attributes.

Now all attributes muft from their nature be
expreffed by general words, and are fo exprelT"
cd in all languages. In the ancient philofo-
phy, attributes in general v/ere called by two
names which exprefs their nature. They were
called univerfah, becaufe they might belong-
equally to many individuals, and are not con-
fined to one : They were alfo called predica-
bles, becaufe whatever is predicated, that is,

affirmed

92 E S S A Y V.

C H A P. affirmed or denied of one fubjed, may be, of
more, and therefore is an univerfal, and ex-
^'-^'^'^''^ prefl'ed by a general word. A predicable there-
fore fignifies the fame thing as an attribute,
with this difference only, that the firft is La-
tin, the lafl: Englifh. The attributes we find
either in the creatures of God, or in the works
of men, are common to many individuals :
We either find it to be fo, or prefume it may
be fo, and give them the fame name in every
fubjed to which they belong.

There are not only attributes belonging to
individual fubjeds, but there are likewife at-
tributes of attributes, which may be called fe-
condary attributes. Moft attributes are capa-
ble of different degrees, and different modifi-
cations, which mufl be expreffed by general
words.

Thus it is an attribute of many bodies to be
moved ; but motion may be in an endlefs va-
riety of direftions. It may be quick or flow,
redilineal or curvilineal ; it may be equable,
or accelerated, or retarded.

As ail attributes, therefore, whether pri-
mary or fecondary, are expreffed by general
words, it follows, that in every proportion
we exprefs in language, what is affirmed or
denied of the fubjett of the propofition muft
be expreiTed by general words : And that the
fubjed: of the propofition may often be a ge-
neral word, will appear from the next obfer-
vation.

Thirdly^ The fame faculties by which we
diftinguiih the different attributes belonging to
the fame fubjed, and give names to them, en-
able us iikewife to obferve, that many fubjefts
agree in certain attributes, while they differ in

others.

OF GENERAL WORDS. 93

others. By this means we are enabled to re-C HAP.
duce individuals which are infinite, to a limi- ^' ^
ted number of clafl'es, which are called kinds
and forts ; and in the fcholaftic language,
genera and /pedes.

Obferving many individuals to agree in cer-
tain attributes, we refer them all to one clafs,
and give a name to the clafs : This name com-
prehends in its fignification not one attribute
only, but all the attributes which diftinguifh
that clafs ; and by affirming this name of any
individual, we affirm it to have all the attri-
butes which characterize the clafs : Thus
men, dogs, horfes, elephants, are fo many
different claffes of animals. In like manner
we marfhal other fubflances, vegetable and in-
animate, into claffes.

Nor is it only fubflances that we thus form
into claffes. We do the fame with regard to
qualities, relations, aftions, affedions, paffi-
ons, and all other things.

When a clafs is very large, it is divided in-
to Subordinate claffes in the fame manner. The
higher clafs is called a ge?ii{s or kind ; the low-
er a [pedes or fort of the higher : Sometimes a
fpecies is ftill fubdivided into fubordinate fpe-
cies ; and this fubdivifion is carried on as far
as is found convenient for the purpofe of lan-
guage, or for the improvement of knowledge.
In this diflribution of things into genera and
/pedes ^ it is evident that the name of the fpe-
cies comprehends more attributes than the
name of the genus. The fpecies comprehends
all that is in the genus, and thofe attributes
likewife which diitinguiffi that fpecies from
others belonging to the fame genus ; and the
more fubdivifions we make, the names of the

lower

•^vl^ =■

94 ESSAY V.

CHAP, lower become ftlll the more comprehcnfive in
^^^ their fignification, but the lefs extenfive in
their application to individuals.

Hence it is an axiom in logic, that the more
extenfive any general term is, it is the lefs
comprehenfive ; and on the contrary, the more
comprehenfive, the lefs extenfive : Thus, in
the following feries of fubordinate general
terms, animal, man. Frenchman, Parifian,
every fubfequent term comprehends in its fig-
nification all that is in the preceding, and
fomething more ; and every antecedent term
extends to more individuals than the fubfe-
quent.

Such divlfions and fubdivifions of things into
genera and fpecies with general names, are not
confined to the learned andpolifhed languages ;
they are found in thofe of the rudeft tribes of
mankind : From which we learn, that the in-
vention and the ufe of general words, both to
fignify the attributes of things, and to fignify
the genera and fpecies of things, is not a fubtile
invention of Philofophcrs, but an operation
which all men perform by the light of common
fenfe. Philofophcrs may fpeculate about this
operation, and reduce it to canons and apho-
rlfms ; but men of common underftanding,
without knowing any thing of the philofophy
of it, can put it in practice ; in like manner as
they can fee objects, and make good ufe of
their eyes, although they know nothing of the
flruclure of the eye, or of the theory of vifion.

Every genus, and every fpecies of things,
may be either the fubject or the predicate of a
propofition, nay of innumerable propofitions ;
for every attribute common to the genus or

fpecies

OF GENERAL WORDS.

95

fpecies may be affirmed of It ; and the genus C H A P.
may be affirmed of every fpecies, and both ge- ^•
nus and fpecies of every individual to which ^"^"^""^
k extends.

Thus of man it may be affirmed, that he is
an animal made up of body and mind ; that
he is of few days, and full of trouble ; that he
is capable of various improvements in arts, in
knowledge, and in virtue. In a word, every
thing common to the fpecies may be affirmed
of man ; and of all fuch propofitions, which
are innumerable, man is the fubjecl.

Again, of every nation and tribe, and of
every individual of the human race that is, or
was, or fhall be, it may be affirmed that they
are men. In all fuch propofitions, which are
innumerable, man is the predicate of the pro-
pofition.

We obferved above an extenfion and a
comprehenfion in general terms ; and that in
any fubdivifion of things the name of the low-
eft fpecies is moft comprehenhve, and that of
the higheft genus moft extenfive. I would
now obferve, that, by means of fuch general
terms, there is aho an extenfion and compre-
henfion of propofitions, which is one of the
nobleft powers of language, and fits it for ex-
preffing, with great eafe and expedition, the
higheil attainments in knowledge, of which
the human underflanding is capable.

When the predicate is a genus or a Jpecies,
the propofition is more or lefs comprehenfive,
according as the predicate is. Thus, w^hen I
•fay that this feal is gold, by this fmgle propor-
tion, I affirm of it all the properties which that
metal is known to have. When I fay of any

man

g6 ESSAY V.

CHAP, man that he is a Mathematician, this appella-
^- tion comprehends all the attributes that belong

^^''^'^^to him as an animal, as a man, and as one
who has fludied mathematics. When I fay
that the orbit of the planet Mercury is an el-
lipfis, I thereby affirm of that orbit all the pro-
perties which Apollonius and other Geome-
tricians have difcovered, or may difcover, of
that fpecies of figure.

Again, when the fubjeft of a propofition Is
a ge7ius or a /pedes, the propofition is more or
lefs extenfive, according as the fubjecl is.
Thus when I am taught, that the three angles
of a plane triangle are equal to two right an-
gles, this properly extends to every fpecies of
plane triangle, and to every individual plane
triangle that did, or does, or can exift.

It is by means of fuch extenfive and com-
prehenfive propofitions that human knowledge
is condenfed, as it were, into a fize adapted
to the capacity of the human mind, with great
addition to its beauty, and without any dimi-
nution of its diftinftnefs and perfpicuity.

General propofitions in fcience may be com-
pared to the feed of a plant, which, according
to fome Philofophers, has not only the whole
future plant inclofed within it, but the feeds of
that plant, and the plants that Ihall fpring from
them through all future generations.

But the fimilitude falls fliort in this refpe£l,
that time and accidents, not in our power,
mufl concur to difclofe the contents of the
feed, and bring them into our view ; whereas
the contents of a general propofition may be
brought forth, ripened, and expofed to view
at our pleafure, and in an inflant.

Thus

OF GENERAL CONCEPTIONS. 97

Thus the wifdom of ages, and the moft fub- CHAP
li!iic theorems of fdence, may be laid up, ^•
like an Iliad in. a nut-fhell, and tranfmitted to *
fu'ure generations, and this noble purpofe of
language can only be accomplifhed, by means
of general words annexed to the divifions and
fubdivifions of things.

What has been faid in this chapter, I think,
is fufficient to fhew, that there can be no lan-
guage, not fo much as a fmgle propofition,
without general words ; that they muft make
the greatefl part of every language, and that
it is by them only that language is fitted to
exprefs, with wonderful eafe and expedition,
all the treafures of human wifdom and know-
ledge.

CHAP. II.

Of general Conceptions.

A S general words are fo neceflary in lan-
ji\_ guage, it is natural to conclude that
there mufl be general conceptions, of which
they are the figns.

Words are empty founds when they do not
lignify the thoughts of the fpeaker ; and it is
only from their fignification rhat they are de-
nominated general. Every word that is fpo-
ken, confidered merely as a found, is an in-
dividual found. And it can only be called a
general word, becaufe that which it fignifies
is general. Now, that which it fignifies, is
conceived by the mind both of the fpeaker and
hearer, if the word have a diftincl meaning,
and be diflinclly underftood. It is therefore

Vol. II. H impofhble

98 E S S A Y V.

CHAP, impofiible that words can have a general fig-
^^_J|^, nification, unlefs there be conceptions in the
mind of the fpeaker, and of the hearer, of
things that are general. It is to fuch that I
give the name of general conceptions : And it
ought to be obferved, that they take this deno-
mination, not from the acl of the mind in
conceiving, which is an individual acl, but
from the object, or thing conceived, which is
general.

We are therefore here to confider whether
we have fuch general conceptions, and how
they are formed.

To begin with the conceptions expreffed by
general terms, that is, by fuch general words
as may be the fubject or the predicate of a pro-
pofition. They are either attributes of things,
or they are genera or fpecies of things.

It is evident, with refpect to all the indivi--
duals we are acquainted with, that we have a
more clear and diflintt conception of their at-
tributes, than of the fubject to which thofe at-
tributes belong.

Take, for inftance, any individual body wc
have accefs to know, what conception do we
form of it ? Every man may know this from
his confcioufnefs. He will find that he con-
ceives it as a thing that has length, breadth,
and thicknefs, fach a figure, and fuch a colour;
that it is hard, or folt, or fluid ; that it has
fuch qualities, and is fit for fuch purpofes. If
it is a vegetable, he may know where it grew,
what is the form of its leaves, and flower, and
feed. If an animal, what are its natural in-
ftincts, its manner of life, and of rearing its
young : Of thefe attributes belonging to this
individual, and numberlefs others, he may

furely

OF GENERAL CONCEPTIONS. 99

furely have a difhinct conception ; and he willC HAP.
find words in language by which he can clearly "•
and diftindlly exprefs each of them.

If we confider, in like manner, the concep-
tion we form of any individual perfon of our
acquaintance, we fhall find it to be made up of
various attributes, which we afcribe to him ;
fuch as, that he is the fon of fuch a man, the
brother of fuch another, that he has fuch an
employment or office, has fuch a fortune, that
he is tall or Ihort, well or ill made, comely or
ill favoured, young or old, married or unmar-
ried ; to this we may add, his temper, his cha-
racter, his abilities, and perhaps fome anec-
dotes of his hifliory.

Such is the conception we form of individual
perfons of our acquaintance. By fuch attri-
butes, we defcribe them to thofe who know them
not ; and by fuch attributes Hiftorians give us
a conception of the perfonages of former times.
' Nor is it poffible to do it in any other way.

All the diflinft knowledge we have or can
attain of any individual, is the knowledge of
its attributes : For we know not the effence of
any individual. This feems to be beyond the
reach of the human faculties.

Now, every attribute is what the ancients
called an univerfaL It is, or may be, common
to various individuals. There is no attribute •
belonging to any creature of God which may
not belong to others ; and, on this account,
attributes, in all languages, are exprelfed by
general words.

It appears likewife, from every man's expe-
rience, that he may have as clear and diftindl
a conception of fuch attributes as we have
H 2 named.

lOO

ESSAY V.

named, and of innumerable others, as he can
have of any individual to which they belong.

Indeed the attributes of individuals is all
that we diftindly conceive about them. It is
true, we conceive a fubjeft to which the attri-
butes belong ; but of this fubjett, when its at-
tributes are fet afide, we have but an obfcure
and relative conception, whether it be body or
mind.

This was before obferved with regard to bo-
dies, Effay II. chap. 19. to which we refer,
and it is no lefs evident with regard to minds.
What is it we call a mind? It is a thinking,
intelligent, active being. Granting that think-
ing, intelligence, and aftivity, are attributes
of mind, I want to know what the thing or be-
ing is to which thefe attributes belong? To this
queftion I can find no Satisfying anfwer. The
attributes of mind, and particularly its opera-
tions, we know clearly ; but of the thing itfelf
we have only an obfcure notion.

Nature teaches us, that thinking and reafon-
ing are attributes, which cannot exifl without
a fubjed; but of that fubjeft I beheve the beft
notion we can form implies little more than
that it is the fubject of fuch attributes.

Whether other created beings may have the
knowledge of the real eifence of created things,
fo as to be able to deduce their attributes from
their effence and conftitution, or whether this
be the prerogative of him who made them,
we cannot tell; but it is a knowledge which
feems to be quite beyond the reach of the hu-
man faculties.

We know the effence of a triangle, and from
that effence can deduce its properties. It is an
univerfal, and might have been conceived by

the

OF GENERAL CONCEPTIONS. loi

the human mind, though no individual triangle CHAP,
had ever exifled. It has only w^hat Mr. Locke ^^•
calls a nominal effence, which is exprefled in
its definition. But every thing that exifts has
a real eflence, which is above our comprehen-
fion; and therefore we cannot deduce its pro-
perties or attributes from its nature, as we do
in the triangle. We mufh take a contrary road
in the knowledge of God's works, and fatisfy
ourfelves with their attributes as fads, and with
the general convi6tion that there is a fubjeft to
which thofe attributes belong.

Enough, I think, has been faid, to fhow,
not only that we may have clear and diftindt
conceptions of attributes, but that they are the
only things, with regard to individuals, of
which we have a clear and diftin£l conception.

The other clafs of general terms are thofe
that fignify the genera and /pedes into which
we divide and fubdivide things. And if we
be able to form diflindt conceptions of attri-
butes, it cannot furely be denied that we may
have diflincl conceptions of genera znd /pedes ;
becaufe they are only colledions of attributes
which we conceive to exift in a fubjed, and to
which we give a general name. If the attri-
butes comprehended under that general name
be diftindly conceived, the thing meant by
the name mufl be diftindly conceived. And
the name may juflly be attributed to every in-
dividual which has thofe attributes.

Thus, I conceive diftinftly what it is to have
wings, to be covered with feathers, to lay eggs.
Suppofe then that we give the name of bird to
every animal that has thefe three attributes.
Here undoubtedly my conception of a bird is
as diftind: as any notion of the attributes which

are

102

ESSAY V.

CHAP, are common to this fpecies : And if this be adr
^^- mitted to be the definition of a bird, there is
^^ "" ^ nothing I conceive more diftindly. If I had
never feen a bird, and can but be made to un-
derftand the definition, I can eafily apply it to
every individual of the fpecies, without dan-
ger of miftake.

When things are divided and fubdivided by
men of fcience, and names given to the genera
and fpecies, thofe names are defined. Thus,
the genera and fpecies of plants, and^of other
natural bodies, are accurately defined by the
writers in the various branches of natural hif-
tory; fo that, to all future generations, the
definition will convey a diftinft notion of the
genus or fpecies defined.

There are, without doubt, many words fig-
nifying genera and fpecies of things, which
have a meaning fomevvhat vague and indiftinft;
fo that thofe who fpeak the fame language do
not always ufe them in the fame fenfe. But
if we attend to the caufe of, this indiftindnefs,
we fhall find, that it is not owing to their
being general terms, but to this, that there is
no definition of them that has authority.
Their meaning, therefore, has not been learn-
ed by a definition, but by a kind of induftion,
by obferving to what individuals they are ap-
plied by thofe who underftand the language.
We learn by habit to ufe them as we fee others
do, even when we have not a precife meaning
annexed to them. A man may know, that to
certain individuals they may be applied with
propriety; but whether they can be applied to
certain other individuals, he may be uncertain,
cither from want of good authorities, or from

having

OF GENERAL CONCEPTIONS. 103

having contrary authorities, which leave him^ HAP.
in doubt. vJ-J^

Thus, a man may know, that when he ap-
phes the name of bead to a Hon or a tyger,
and the name of bird to an eagle or a turkey,
he fpeaks properly. But whether a bat be a
bird or a beaft, he may be uncertain. If there
was any accurate definition of a beaft and of a
bird, that was of fufficient authority, he could
be at no lofs.

It is faid to have been fometimes a matter of
difpute, with regard to a monftrous birth of a
woman, whether it was a man or not. Al-
though this may be in reality a queftioYi about
the meaning of a word, it may be of import-
ance, on account of the privileges which laws
have annexed to the human character. To
make fuch laws perfeftly precife, the definition
of* a man would be neceflary, which 1 believe
Legiilators have feldom or never thought fit to
give. It is, indeed, very difficult to fix a defi-
nition of fo common a word, and the cafes
wherein it would be of any ufe fo rarely occur,
that perhaps it may be better, when they do
occur, to leave them to the determination of a
judge or of a jury, than to give a definition,
which might be attended with unforefeen con-
fequences.

A genius or fpecies, being a colle£lion of at-
tributes, conceived to exift in one fubjeft, a
definition is the only way to prevent any addi-
tion or diminuation of its ingredients in the
conception of different perfons; and when
there is no definition that can be appealed to
as a ftandard, the name will hardly retain the
moft perfect precifion in its fignification.

From

I04

ESSAY V.

CHAP. From what has been faid, I conceive it is
^^- evident, that the words which fignify genera
^"""^"^ an J fpecies of things have often as precife and
definite a fignification as any words whatfoever;
and that when it is otherwife, their want of
precifion is not owing to their being general
words, but to other caufes.

Having fliewn that we may have a perfectly
clear and diftind: conception of the meaning of
general terms, we may, I think, take it for
granted, that the fame may be faid of other
general words, fuch as prepofitions, conjunc-
tions, articles. My defign at prefent being
only tofliew, that we have general conceptions
no lefs clear and diftinft than thofe of individu-
als, it is fufficient for this purpofe, if this ap-
pears with regard to the conceptions expreffed
by general terms. To conceive the meaning
of a general word, and to conceive that whi^ch
it fignifies, is the fame thing. We conceive
diftindly the meaning of general terms, there-
fore we conceive diftindly that which they fig-
nify. But fuch terms do not fignify any indi-
vidual, but what is common to many indivi-
duals ; therefore we have a diftind conception
of things common to many individuals, that
is, we have diftinft general conceptions.

We muft here beware of the ambiguity of
the word conception, which fomerimes fignifies
the aft of the mind in conceiving, fometimes
the thing conceived, which is the object of
that ad. If the word be taken in the firft fenfe,
I acknowledge that every a<3: of the mind is an
individual ad ; the univerfality, therefore, is
not in the ad of the mind, but in the objed,
or thing conceived. The thing conceived is an
attribute common to many fubjeds, or it is a
genus or fpecies common to many individuals.

Suppofe

OF GENERAL CONCEPTIONS. 105

Suppofe I conceive a triangle, that is, a C H A P.
plain figure terminated by three right lines. •
He that underftands this definition diftinftly has
adijflin^l conception of a triangle. But a trian-
gle is not an individual ; it is a fpecies. The
act of my underftanding in conceiving it is an
individual ad, and has a real exiftence ; but
the thing conceived is general, and cannot ex-
ift without other attributes, which are not in-
cluded in the definition.

Every triangle that really exifls muft have a
certain length of fides and meafure of angles ;
it muft have place and time. But the defini-
tion of a triangle includes neither exiftence,
nor any of thofe attributes ; and therefore they
are not included in the conception of a triangle,
which cannot be accurate if it comprehend
more than the definition.

Thus I think it appears to be evident, that
we have general conceptions that are clear and
diftin£t, both of attributes of things, and of
genera and fpecies of things.

CHAP.

io6 ESSAY

CHAP. HI.

Of general Conceptions formed by analyfing
Objeds.

"E arc next to confider the operations
of the underflanding, by which we arc
enabled to form general conceptions.

Thefe appear to me to be three ; frji. The
refolving or analyfing a fubjecl into its known
attributes, and giving a name to each attribute,
which name fhall fignify that attribute, and
nothing more.

Secondly, The obferving one or more fuch at-
tributes to be common to many fubjeds. The
firil is by Philofophers called abJlrad:ion:, the
fecond may be called generalifing\ but both
are commonly included under the name of
ahjlracllon.

It is difficult to fay which of them goes firft,
or whether they are not fo clofely connefted
that neither can claim the Precedence. For on
the one hand, to perceive an agreement between
two or more objeds in the flime attribute,
feems to require nothing more than to com-
pare them together. A favage, upon feeing
fnow and chalk, would find no difficulty in
perceiving that they have the fame colour.
Yet, on the* other hand, it feem.s impoffible
that he ffiould obferve this agreement without
abftradion, that is, diftinguiffiing in his con-
ception the colour, wherein thofe two objects
agree, from the other qualities, wherein they
difagree.

It feems therefore, that we cannot generalife
without feme degree of abflradionj but I ap-
prehend

Conceptions formed by Anahftng Objects. 1 07

prehend we may abftract without generalifmgrC HAP.
For what hinders me from attending to the ^^^•
whitenefs of-^'.iie paper before me, without ap-
plying that colour to any other objed: The
whitenefs of this individual object is an abftradt
conception, but not a general one, while ap-
plied to one individual only. Thefe two ope-
rations, however, are fubfervient to each
other; for the more attributes we obferve and
diftinguilli in any one individual, the more
agreements we fhall difcover between it and
other individuals.

A third operation of the underftanding, by
which we form abftrad: conceptions, is the
combining into one whole a certain number of
thofe attributes of which we have formed ab-
flraft notions, and giving a name to that com-
bination. It is thus we form abftracl notions
of the genera and fpecies of things. Thefe
three operations we fhall confider in order.

With regard to abftra<5lion, ftriftly fo called,
I can perceive nothing in it that is difficult
either to be underftood or praftifed. What
can be more eafy than to diflinguifh the differ-
ent attributes which we know to belong to a
fubjeft? In a man, for inflance, to diflinguifli
his fize, his complexion, his age, his fortune,
his birth, his profeilion, and twenty other
things that belong to him. To think and fpeak
of thefe things with underilanding, is furely
within the reach of every man endowed with
the human faculties.

There may be diftinttions that require nice
difcernment, or an acquaintance with the fub-
jed: that is not common. Thus, a critic in
painting may difcern the flyle of Raphael or
Titian, when another man could not. A

lawyer

io8 E S S A Y V.

CHAP. lawyer may be acquainted with many diftin£li-
ons in crimes, and contrads, and actions,
which never occurred to a man who has not
ftudied lav.'. One man may excel another in
the talent of diflinguifhing, as he may in me-
mory or in reafoning;, but there is a certain
degree of this talent, without which a man
would have no title to be confidered as a rea-
fonable creature.

It ought likewife to be obferved, that attri-
butes may v/ith perfed eafe be diftinguifiied
and disjoined in our conception, which cannot
be actually feparated in the fubjed. Thus, in
a body, I can diftinguifh its folidity from its
extenfion, and its weight from both. In ex-
tenfion I can diftinguifh length, breadth, and
thicknefs, yet none of thefe can be feparated
from the body, or from one another. There
may be attributes belonging to a fubject, and
infeparable from it, of which we have no
knowledge, and confequently no conception ;
but this does not hinder our conceiving dif-
tindly thofe of its attributes which we know.

Thus, all the properties of a circle are in-
feparable from the nature of a circle, and may
be demonilrated from its definition ; yet a man
may have a perfedly diflinft notion of a circle,
who knows very few of thofe properties of it
which Mathematicians have domonllrated ;
and a circle probably has many properties
which no Mathematician ever dreamed of.

It is therefore certain, that attributes, which
in their nature are abfolutely infeparable from
their fubjed:, and from one another, may be
disjoined in our conception ; one cannot exifl
without the other, but one can be conceived
without the other.

Having

Conceptions formed by Analyftng ObjeSIs. 1 09

Having confidered abftraftion, frriftly fo CHAP,
called, let us next confider the operation of ^^^'
generalifing, which is nothing but the obferv-
ino- one or more attributes to be common to
many fubjetls.

If any man can doubt whether there be at-
tributes that are really common to many indi-
viduals, let him confider whether there be not
many men that are above fix feet high, and
many below it ; whether there be not many
men that are rich, and many more that are
poor ; whether there be not many that were
born in Britain, and many that were born in
France. To multiply inftances of this kind,
would be to affront the reader's underflanding.
It is certain therefore, that there are , innume-
rable attributes that are really common to many
individuals ; and if this be what the fchpolmen
called univerfale a parte rei, we may affirm
with certainty, that there are fuch univerfals.

There are fome attributes expreffed by ge-
neral words, of which this may feem more
doubtful. Such are the qualities which are
inherent in their feveral fubjeds. It may be
faid that every fubjeft hath its own qualities,
and that which is the quahty of one fubje(5i:
cannot be the quality of another fubjedl. Thus
the whitenefs of the flieet of paper upon which
I write, cannot be the whitenefs of another
flieet, though both are called white. The
weight of one guinea is not the weight of
another guinea, though both are faid to have
the fame weight.

To this I anfwer, that the whitenefs of this
flieet is one thing, whitenefs is another ; the
conceptions fignified by thefe two forms of
fpeech are as different as the expreffions: The

firft

I ro

ESSAY

V.

^ ^ -^ ^-firfl fignifies an individual quality really exift-
^__^,^J^ ing, and is not a general conception, though
it be an abftract one : The fecond fignifies a
general conception, which implies no exift-
ence, but may be predicated of every thing
that is white, and in the fame fenfe. On this
account, if one fliould fay, that the whitenefs
of this fliset is the whitenefs of another fheet,
every man perceives this to be abfurd, but when
he fays both fneets are white, this is true and
perfc'Sily underflood. The conception of white-
nefs implies no exiftence ; it would remain the
fame, though every thing in the univerfe that
is white were annihilated.

It appears therefore, that the general names

of qualities, as well as of other attributes, are

"aplicable to many individuals in the lame

fenfe, which cannot be if there be not general

conceptions fignified by fuch names.

If it fhould be afked, how early, or at what
period of life, men begin to form general con-
ceptions? I anfwer, As foon as a child can fay,
with underfhanding, that he has two brothers
or two fillers; as foon as he can ufe the plural
number, he muft have general conceptions ;
for no individual can have a plural number.

As there are not two individuals in nature
that agree in every thing, fo there are very few
that do not agree in fomie things. We take
pleafure from very early years in obferving
fuch agreements. One great branch of what
we call if/V, which when innocent, gives plea-
fure to every good natured man, confilts in
difcovering unexpefted agreements in things.
The author of Hudibras could difcern a pro-
perty common to the morning and a boiled
lobfler, that both turn from black to red.

Swift

I

Conceptions formed by Analyfing Objcfls. 1 1 1

Swift could fee fomething common to wit and CHAP,
an old cheefe. Such unexpefted agreements ^^^•
may fhew wit ; but there are innumerable a- ''^"^^"^
greements of thins^s which cannot <!fcaDe the
notice of the lowed underfhanding ; fuch as
agreements in colour, magnitude, figure, fea-
tures, time, place, age, and fo forth. Thefe
agreements are the foundation of fo m.any
common attributes, which are found in the
rudefl languages.

The ancient Philofophers called thefe uni-
verfals, or predicables, and endeavoured to re-
duce them to five clafles ; to wit, genus, fpe-
cies, fpecific difference, properties, and acci-
dents. Perhaps there may be more claiTes of
univerfals or attributes, for enumerations, fo
very general, are feldom complete ; but every
attribute, common to. feveral individuals, may
be expreffed by a general term, which is the
fign of a general conception.

How prone men are to form general concep-
tions we may fee from the ufe of metaphor,
and of the other figures of fpeech grounded
on fimilitude. Similitude is nothing elfe than
an agreement of the objects compared in one
or more attributes; and if there be no attribute
common to both, there can be no fimilitude.

The fimilitudes and analogies betv/een the
various objefts that nature prefents to us, are
infinite and inexhauftible. They not only
pleafe, when difplayed by the Poet or Wit in
works of tafle, but they are highly ufeful in
the ordinary communication of our thoughts
and fentiments by language. In the rude lan-
guages of barbarous notions, fimilitudes and
analogies fupply the want of proper words to
exprefs mens fentiments, fo much, that in fuch

languages

112 E S S A Y V.

^ ^TT^ ^ languages there is hardly a fentence without a
. yr-^^.^ metaphor; and if we examine the mod copi-
ous and polilhed languages, we fhall find that
a great proportion of the words and phrafes
which are accounted the moft proper, may be
faid to be the progeny of metaphor.

As foreigners, who fettle in a nation as their
home, come at laft to be incorporated, and
lofe the denomination of foreigners, fo words
and phrafes, at firll borrowed and figurative,
by long ufe become denizens in the language,
and lofe the denomination of figures of fpeech.
When we fpeak of the extent of knowledge,
the (leadinefs of virtue, the tendernefs of affec-
tion, the perfpicuity of expreffion, no man-
conceives thefe to be metaphorical exprellions ;
they are as proper as any in the language : Yet
it appears upon the very face of them, that they
muft have been metaphorical in thofe who ufed
them firft ; and that it is by ufe and prefcription
that they have loft the denomination of figura-
tive, and acquired a right to be confidered as
proper words. This obfervation will be found
to extend to a great part, perhaps the greateft
part, of the words of the moft perfect lan-
guages : Sometimes the name of an individual
is given to a general conception, and thereby
the individual in a manner generalifed. As
when the Jew Shylock, in Shakespeare, fays,
A Daniel come to judgment; yea, a Daniel!
In this fpeech, a Daniel is an attribute, or an
univerfal. The character of Daniel, as a man
of fmgular wifdom, is abftraded from his per-
fon, and confidered as capable of being attri-
buted to other perfons.

Upon the whole, thefe two operations of ab-
ftracling and generalifing appear common to

all

Co72C€ptiohs fsrmed by Analyftng ObjeEli, \ 1 3

all men that have underftanding. The practice c H A P.
of them is, and muft be, familiar to every man III.
that ufes language ; but it is one thing to prac- '^ — ->
tife them, and another to explain how they
are performed ; as it is one thing to fee, ano-
ther to explain how we fee. The firfl is the
province of all men, and is the natural and eafy
operation of the faculties which God hath given
us. The fecond is the province of Philofo-
phers, and though a matter of no great diffi-
culty in itfelf, has been much perplexed by the
ambiguity of words, and ftill more by the hy-
pothefes of Philofophers.

Thus when I confider a billiard ball, its co-
lour is one attribute, which I fignify by calling
it white ; its figure is another, which is figni-
fied by calhng it fpherical ; the hrm cohefion
of its parts is fignified by calling it hard ; its
recoiling, when it flrikes a hard body, is figni-
fied by its being called elaftic ; its origin, as
being part of the tooth of an elephant, is fig-
nified by calling it ivory ; and its ufc by call-
ing it a biUiard ball.

The words, by which each of thofe attri-
butes is fignified, have one diflin£l meaning,
and in this meaning are applicable to many in-
dividuals. They fignify not any individual
thing, but attributes common to many indivi-
duals ; nor is it beyond the capacity of a child
to underftand them perfedly, and to apply
them properly to every individual in which
they are found.

As it is by analyfing a complex object into
its feveral attributes that we acquire our fim-
pleft abftracl conceptions, it may be proper to
compare this analyfis with that which a Che-
mift makes of a compounded body into the in-
gredients which enter into its compofition ; for

Vol. II. I although

114 E S S A Y V.

CHAP, although there be fuch an analogy between
^^^' thefe two operations, that we give to both the

^^'^^^y^^^ name of analyfis or refclution, there is at the
fame time fo great a diihmilitude in fome re-
fpects, that we may be led into error, by ap-
plying to one what belongs to the other.

It is obvious, that the chemical analylis is an
operation of the hand upon matter, by vari-
ous material inflrumicnts. The analyfis we are
now explaining is purely an operation of the
underflanding, which requires no material in-
ftrument, nor produces any change upon any
external thing ; we fliall therefore call it thein-
telledual or mental analyfis.

In the chemical analyfis, the compound body
itfelf is the fubjecl analyfed. A fubject fo im-
perfedly known, that it may be compounded
of various ingredients, w hen to our fenfes it ap-
pears perfectly fimple ; and even when we are
able to analyfe it into the different ingredients
of which it is compofed, we know not how ox
why the combination of thofe ingredients pro-
duces fuch a body.

Thus pure fea-falt is a body, to appearance,
as fimple as any in nature. Every the lead
particle of it, difcernible by our fenfes, is per-
fectly fimilar to every other particle in all its
qualities. The nicefl talle, the quickeft eye,
can difcern no mark of its being made up of
different ingredients ; yet, by the chemical art,
it can be analyfed into an acid ahd an alkali,
and can be again produced by the combination
of thofe two ingredients. But how this com-
bination produces fea-falt, no man has been
able to difcover. The ingredients are both as
unlike the compound as any bodies we know.
No man could have gueiled before the thing

was

Conceptions formed by Analyfing OhjeBu 1 1 5

Was known that fea-falt is compounded of thofeC HAP,
two ingredients ; no man could have guefled, ^^^•
that the union of thofe two ingredients fhould*
produce fuch a compound as fea-falt. Such in
many cafes are the phasnomena of the chemical
ianalyfis of a compound body.

If we confider the intelleftual analyfis of an
iobjedt, it is evident that nothing of this kind
can happen ; becaufe the thing analyfed is not
an external object imperfectly known ; it is a
conception of the mind itfelf. And to fuppofe
that there can be any thing in a conception that
is not conceived, is a contradiction.

The reafon of obferving this difference be-
tween thofe two kinds of analyfis is, that fome
Philofophers, in order to fupport their fyflems,
have maintained, that a complex idea may have
the appearance of the mofl perfect fimplicity,
and retain no fimilitude of any of the fimple
ideas of which it is compounded ; juft as a
white colour may appear perfectly fimple, and
retain no fimilitude to any of the feven primary
colours of which it is compounded ; or as a
chemical compolition may appear perfectly
fimple, and retain no fimilitude to any of the
ingredients.

From which thofe Philofophers have drawn
this important conclufion, that a clufter of the
ideas of fenfe, properly combined, may make
the idea of a mind ; and that all the ideas,
which Mr. Locke calls ideas of reflection, are
only compofitions of the ideas which we have
by our five fenfes. From this the tranfition is
eafy, that if a proper compofition of the ideas
t)f matter may make the idea of a mind, then
a proper compofition of matter itfelf may make
I 2 a mind.

ii6 ESSAY V.

C H A P. a mind, and that man Is only a piece of matter
11^- curioufly formed.

In this curious fyftem, the whole fabric reds
upon this foundation, that a complex idea,
which is made up of various fimple ideas, may
appear to be perfectly fimple, and to have no
marks of compofition, becaufe a compound
body may appear to our fenfes to be perfedlly
fnnple.

Upon this fundamental proportion of this
fyftem I beg leave to make two remarks.

1. Suppofmg it to be true, it affirms only
what may he. We are indeed in moft cafes very
imperfect judges of what maybe. But this we
know, that were we ever fo certain that a thing
may be, this is no good reafon for believing
that it really is. A may he is a mere hypothecs,
which may furnifh matter of inveftigation, but
is not entitled to the leaft degree of belief.
The tranfitlon from what may be to what really
is, is familiar and eafy to thofe who have a
predilection for a hypothefis ; but to a man
who feeks truth without prejudice or prepofT-
effion, it is a very wide and difficult ftep, and
he will never pafs from the one to the other,
without evidence not only that the thing may
be. but that it really is.

2. As far as I am able to judge, this, which
it is faid may be, cannot be. That a complex
idea ffiouid be made up of fmiple ideas ; fo that
to a ripe underftanding reflecting upon that
idea, there fhould be no appearance of compo-
fition, nothing fimilar to the fnnple ideas of
which it is compounded, feems to me to in-
volve a contradidlon. The idea is a concep-
tion of the mind. If any thing more than this
is meant by the idea, I know not what it is ;

and

Ccnceptiom formed by Analyfing Objeds. 1 1 7

and I wifh both to know what it is, and to haveC H A P.
proof of its exiftence. Now that there fliould ,J1J;.^
be any thing in the conception of an object
which is not conceived, appears to me as ma-
nifefl a contradiction, as that there fhoidd be
an exiftence which does not exift, or that a
thing fhould be conceived, and not conceived
at the fame time.

But, fay thefe Philofophers, a white colour
Is produced by the compofition of the primary
colours, and yet has no refemblance to any ot
them. I grant it. But what can be inferred
from this with regard to the compofition of
ideas ? To bring this argument home to the
point, they mufl fay, that becaufe a white colour
is compounded of the primary colours, therefore
the idea of a white colour is compounded of
the ideas of the primary colours. This rea-
foning, if it was admitted, would lead to in-
numerable abfurdities. An opaque fluid may
be compounded of two or more pellucid fluids.
Hence we might infer with equal force, that
the idea of an opaque fluid may be compound-
ed of the idea of two or more pellucid fluids.

Nature's way of compounding bodies, and
our way of compounding ideas, are fo different
in many refpecis, that we cannot reafon from
the one to the other, unlefs it can be found
that ideas are combined by fermentations
and elective attractions, and may be analyfed
in a furnace by the force of fire and of mcn-
ftruums. Until this difcovery be made, we
muft hold thofe to be fimple ideas, which, upon
the moll attentive reflection, have no appear-
ance of compofition ; and thofe only to be the
ingredients of complex ideas, which, by attentive

refledion.

ii8

ESSAY

CHAP, refledion, can be perceived to be contained ift

"^' them.

If the idea of mind, and its operations, may
be compounded of the ideas of matter and its
qualities, why may not the idea of matter be
compounded of the idea sof mind ? There is the
fame evidence for the lafl; may be as for the firft.
And why may not the idea of found be com-
pounded of the ideas of colour ; or the idea of
colour of thofe of found ? Why may not the
idea of wifdom be compounded of ideas of fol-
ly ; or the idea of truth of ideas of abfurdity ?
But we leave thefe myfterious ma-j bes to their\
that have faith to receive them.

C H A Pi

CoifCE?rioi^s Jbrmed by Combination. 119

CHAP. IV.

Of general Conceptions formed by Combination,

AS, by an intelledual analyfis of objeds,
we form general conceptions of fingle at-
tributes, (which of all conceptions that enter
into the human mind are the moll: fimple), fo,
by combining feveral of thefe into one parcel,
and giving a name to that combination, we form
general conceptions that may be very com-
plex, and at the fame time very dillinft.

Thus one, who, by analyfing extended ob-
je6ls, has got the fimple notions of a point, a
line, ftraight or curve, an angle, a furface, a
folid, can eafily conceive a plain furface, ter-
minated by four equal ftraight lines meeting in
four points at right angles. To this fpecies of
figure he gives the name of a fquare. In like:
manner, he can conceive a folid terminated by
fix equal fquares, and give it the name of a
cube. A fquare, a cube, and every name o£
mathematical figure, is a general term, ex-
preffing a complex general conception, made
by a certain combination of the fimple ele-
ments into which we analyfe extended bodies.

Every mathematical figure is accurately de-
fined, by enumerating the fimple elements of
which it is formed, and the manner of their
combination. The definition contains the
whole effence of it : And every property that
belongs to it may be deduced by demonftrative
reafoning from its definition. It is not a thing
that exifts, for then it would be an individual ;
but it is a thing that i§ conceived without re-
gard to cxiflence.

A farm.

I20 E S S A Y V.

CHAP. A farm, a manor, a parifh, a county, a
^^•^- kingdom, are complex general conceptions,
^'-^^^'^^^^ formed by various combinations and modifica-
tions of inhabited territory, under certain forms
of government.

Different combinations of military men form
the notions of a company, a regiment, an
army.

The feveral crimes which are the objedls of
criminal law, fuch as theft, murder, robbery,
piracy, what are they but certain combinations
of human adions and intentions, which are
accurately defined in criminal law, and which
it is found convenient to comprehend under
one name, and confider as one thing ?

When we obferve, that Nature, in her
animal, vegetable, and inanimate produftions,
has formed many individuals that agree in
many of their qualities and attributes, we are
led by natural inftind to expeft their agree-
ment in other qualities, which we have not
had occafion to perceive. Thus, a child who
has once burnt his finger, by putting it in the
flame of one candle, expects the fame event
if he puts it in the flame of another candle, or
in any flame, and is thereby led to think that
the quality of burning belongs to all flame.
This inflinclive induction is noc juflified by the
rules of logic, and it fometimes leads men into
harm.lefs miflakes, which experience may af-
terwards cone£l ; but it preferves us from de-
firuclion in innumerable dangers to which we
are expofed.

The reafon of taking notice of this principle
in human nature in this place is, that the dil-
tribution of the productions of Nature into^f--
nera and /pedes becomes, on account of this
principU, more generally ufeful.

The

Coi^cE'P'Tio'ss firmed by Combination. 121

The Phyfician expeds, that the rhubarb^^^P*
which has never yet been tried will have like
medical virtues with that which he has prefcri-
bed on former occalions. Two parcels of rhu-
barb agree in certain fenfible qualities, from
which agreement they are both called by the
fame general name rhubarb. Therefore it is
expected that they will agree in their medical
virtues. And as experience has difcovered
certain virtues in one parcel, or in many par-
cels, we prefume, without experience, that
the fame virtues belong to all parcels of rhu-
barb that Ihall be ufed.

If a traveller meets a horfe, an ox, or a
fheep, which he never faw before, he is under
no apprehenfion, believing thefe animals to be
of a fpecies that is tame and inoffenfive. But
he dreads a lion or a tyger, becaufe they are
of a fierce and ravenous fpecies.

We are capable of receiving innumerable
advantages, and are expofed to innumerable
dangers, from the various produftions of Na-
ture, animal, vegetable, and inanimate. The
life of man, if an hundred times longer than it
is, would be infufHcient to learn from experi-
ence the ufeful and hurtful qualities of every
individual production of Nature taken fmgly.

The Author of Nature hath made provihon
for our attaining that knowledge of his works
which is neceflary for our fubfiitence and pre-
fervation, partly by the conftitution of the pro-
ductions of Nature, and partly by the confti-
tution of the human mind.

For^r/?, In the productions of Nature, great
numbers of individuals are made fo like to one
another, both in their obvious and in their
more occult quaHties, that we are not only en-
abled.

122 ESSAY V«

C H A P.abled, but invited, as it were, to reduce them
_ into claffes, and to give a general name to a
^^^^ clafs ; a name which is common to every indi-
vidual of the clafs, becaufe it comprehends in
its fignilication thofe qualities or attributes only
that are common to all the individuals of that
clafs.

Secondly^ The human mind is fo framed, that,
from the agreement of individuals in the more
obvious qualities by which we reduce them into
one clafs, we are naturally led to expeO: that
they will be found to agree in their more latent
qualities, and in this we are feldom difap»
pointed.

We have, therefore, a ftrong and rational
inducement, both to diftribute natural fub-
ftances into clafTes, genera 2Ji6. /pedes, under
general names ; and to do this with all the ac-
curacy and diflindnefs we are able. For the
fiiore accurate our divifions are made, and the
more diftinftly the feveral fpecies are defined,
the more fecurely we may rely, that the quali-
ties we find in one or in a few individuals will
be found in all of the fame fpecies.

Every fpecies of natural fubftances which has
a name in language, is an attribute of many
individuals, and is itfelf a combination of morer
iimple attributes, which we obferve to be com-
mon to thofe individuals.

We fhall find a great part of the words of
every language, nay, I apprehend, the far
greater part, to fignify combinations of more
fimple general conceptions, which men have
found proper to be bound up, as it were, in
one parcel, by being defigned by one name.

Some general conceptions there are, which
may more properly be called compfitions or

ivorks

Conceptions /^rw^^ hy Combination. \t% '

^orh than mere combinations. Thus, oneCHAP.
may conceive a machine which never exifled. ^^
He may conceive an air in mufic, a poem, a ^'^'~
plan of architefture, a plan of government, a
plan of conduct in public or in private life, a
fcntence, a difcourfe, a treatife. Such com-
pofitions are things conceived in the mind of
the author, not individuals that really exift ;
and the fame general conception M^hich the au-
thor had may be communicated to others by
language.

Thus, the Oceana of Harrington was
conceived in the mind of its author. The ma-r
terials of which it is compofed are things con-;
ceived, not things that exifled. His fenate,
his popular alTembly, bis magiftrates, his elec-
tions, are all conceptions of his mind, and the
whole is one complex conception. And the
fame may be faid of every work of the human
underftanding.

Very different from thefe are the works of
God, which we behold. They arc works of
creative power, not of underftanding only.
They have a real exiftence. Our bed concep-
tions of them are partial and imperfect. But
of the works of the human underftanding our
conception may be perfedt and complete.
They are nothing but what the author conceiv-
ed, and what he can exprefs by language, fo
as to convey his conception perfectly to men
like himfelf.

Although fuch works are indeed complex
general conceptions, they do not fo properly
belong to our prefent fubje£t. They are more
the objeds of judgment and of tafte, than of
bare conception or fimple apprehenfion.

To

124 E S S A Y V.

CHAP. To return therefore to thofe complex con-
^^' ceptions which are formed merely by combm-
^"'^'"'^'"^ ing thofe that are more fin::plc. Nature has
given us the power of combining fuch fimple
attributes, and fuch a number of them as we
find proper ; and of giving, one name to that
combination, and considering it as one objed
of thought.

The fimple attributes of things, which fall
under our obfervation, are not fo numerous
but that they may all have names in a copious
language. But to give names to all the com-
binations that can be made of two, three, or
more of them, would be impoflible. The
moft copious languages have names but for a
very fmall part.

It may likewife be obferved, that the com-
binations that have names are nearly, though
not perfedly, the fame in the different langua-
ges of civilized nations, that have intercourfe
with one another. Hence it is, that the Lexi-
cographer, for the moll: part, can give words
in one language anfwering perfectly, or very
nearly, to thofe of another ; and what is wrote
in a limple ftyle in one language, can be tranf-
lated almod word for v.ord into another.

From thefe obfervations we may conclude,
that there are either certain common principles
of human nature, or certain common occur-
rences of human life, which difpofe men, out
of an infinite number that might be formed, to
form certain combinations raiher than others.

Mr. Hume, in order to account for this
phsenomenon, has recourfe to what he calls the
alTociating qualities of ideas ; to wit, caufation,
contiguity in time, and place, and fimilitude.
He conceives, "ihat one of the mod remarka-

" ble

Conceptions /or/?z^^ /'}' Combination. 125

" ble efFeds of thofe alTociating qualities, isCHAP.
" the complex ideas which are the common ^^*
" fubjefts of our thoughts. That this alfo is
" the caufe why languages fo nearly correfpond
*' to one another. Nature in a manner point-
" ing out to every one thofe ideas which are
" moft proper to be united into a complex
" one."

I agree with this ingenious author, that Na-
ture in a manner points out thofe funple ideas,
which are mofl proper to be united into a com-
plex one : But Nature does this, not folely or
chiefly by the relations between the fimple
ideas, of contiguity, caufation, and refem-
blance ; but rather by the fitnefs of the com-
binations we make, to aid our own concep-
tions, and to convey them to others by lan-
guage eafily and agreeably.

The end and ufe of language, without regard
to the aflbciating qualities of ideas, will lead
men that have common underflanding to form
fuch complex notions as are proper for ex-
pfefling their wants, their thoughts, and their
defires : And in every language we fliall find
thefe to be the complex notions that have
names.

In the rudeft flate offociety, men muft have
occafion to form the general notions of man,
woman, father, mother, fon, daughter, fifter,
brother, neighbour, friend, enemy, and many
others, to exprefs the common relations of one
perfon to another.

If they are employed in hunting, they mufi:
have general terms to exprefs the various im-
plements and operations of the chaee. Their
houfes and clothing, however fimple, will fur-
nifh another fet of general terms, to exprefs

the

126 E S S A Y V.

CHAP, the materials, the workmanflilp, and the ex-
cellencies and defects of thofe fabrics. If they
fail upon rivers, or upon the fea, this will give
occafion to a great number of general terms,
which oiiherwife would never have occurred to
their thoughts.

The fame thing may be faid of agriculture,
of pafturage, of every art they praclife, and of
every branch of knowledge they attain. The
neceffity of general terms for communicating
our fentiments is obvious ; and the invention
of them, as far as we find them necelTary, re-
quires no other talent but that degree of un-
derftanding which is common to men.

The notions of debtor and creditor, of pro-
fit and lofs, of account, balance, flock on
hand, and many others, are owing to com-
merce. The notions of latitude, longitude,
courfe, diftance run ; and thofe of fhips, and
of their various parts, furniture and operati-
ons, are owing to navigation. The Anatomifl
mull have names, for the various fimilar and
diilimilar parts of the human body, and words,
to exprefs their figure, pofition, flruclure, and
ufe. The Phyfician mufl have names for the
various difeafes of the body, their caufes^
fymptoms, and means of cure.

The like may be faid of the Grammarian,
the Logician, the Critic, the Rhetorician, the
Moralifl, the Naturalill, the Mechanic, and
every man that profeffes any art or fcience.

When any difcovery is made in art or in
nature, which requires new combinations and
new words to exprefs it properly, the invention
of thefe is eafy to thofe who have a diftincl no-
tion of the thing to be expreffed ; and fuch
words will readily be adopted, and receive the
public fanclion.

If.

Conceptions /(?r;;2^^ by Combination. 1^7

If, on the other hand, any man of eminence,^ ^^ ^:
through vanity or want of judgment, fhould ^.^.^1,
invent new words, to exprefs combinations
that have neither beauty nor utility, or which
may as well be exprefled in the current lan-
guage, his authority may give them currency
for a time with fervile imitators, or blind ad-
mirers: But the judicious will laugh at them,
and they will foon lofe their credit. So true
was the obfervation made by Pomponius Mar-
CELLUS, an ancient Grammarian, to Tiberius
C^SAR. " You, C^SAR, have power to
*' make a man a denizen of Rome, but not
" to make a word a denizen of the Roman
" language."

Among nations that are civilized, and have
intercourfe with one another, the nioft necef-
fary and ufeful arts will be common; the im-
portant parts of human knowledge will be
common; their feveral languages will be fitted
to it, and confequently to one another.

New inventions of general ufe give an eafy
birth to new complex notions and new names,
which fpread as far as the invention does.
How many new complex notions have been
formed, and names for them invented in the
languages of Europe, by the modern inven-
tions of printing, of gunpowder, of the ma-
riner's compafs, of optical glaffes ? The fimple
ideas combined in thofe complex notions, and
the affociating qualities of thofe ideas, are very
ancient ; but they never produced thofe com-
plex notions until there was ufe for them.

What is peculiar to a nation in its cuftoms,
manners, or laws, will give occafion to com-
plex notions and words peculiar to the language
of that nation. Hence it is eafy to fee, why

an

128 E S S A Y V.

C H A P. an impeachment, and an attainder, in the
*^- Englifli language, and oflracifm in the Greek
language, have not names anfwering to them
in other languages.

I apprehend, therefore, that it is utility,
and not the aflbciating qualities of the ideas,
that has led men to form only certain combi-
nations, and to give names to them in lan-
guage, while they negled; an infinite number
that might be formed.

The common occurrences of life, in the in-
tercourfe of men, and in their occupations,
give occafion to many complex notions. We
fee an individual occurrence, which draws our
attention more or lefs, and may be a fubjeft
of converfation. Other occurrences, fimilar
to this in many refpecls, have been obferved,
or may be expeded. It is convenient that wc
fliould be able to fpeak of what is common to
them all, leaving out the unimportant circum-
ftances of time, place, and perfons. This we
can do with great eafe, by giving a name to
what is common to all thofe individual occur-
rences. Such a name is a great aid to language,
becaufe it comprehends, in one word, a great
number of fimple notions, v/hich it would be
very tedious to exprefs in detail.

Thus men have formed the complex notions
of eating, drinking, fleeping, walking, rid-
ing, running, buying, felling, plowing, fow-
ing, a dance, a feaft, war, a battle, vidtory,
triumph ; and others without number.

Such things mult frequently be the fubjed
of converfation; and if we had not a more
compendious way of exprellmg them than by
a detail of all the fimple notions they compre-
hend, we {hould lofe the benefit of fpeech.

The

Conceptions fanned by Combiination. 129

The different talents, difpofitions, and ha-CHAP.
bits of men in fociety, being interefhing to ^^•
thofe who have to do with them, will in every'"' "
language have general names; fuch as wife,
foolifli, knowing, ignorant, plain, cunning.
In every operative art, the tools, inftruments,
materials, the work produced, and the various
excellencies and defeds of thefe, mufl have
general names.

The various relations of perfoiis, and of
things which cannot efcape the obfervation of
men in fociety, lead us to many complex ge-
neral notions: fuch as father, brother, friend,
enemy, mailer, fervant, property, theft, re-
bellion.

The terms of art in the fciences make
another clafs of general names of complex no-
tions; as in mathematics, axiom, definition,
problem, theorem, demonftration.

I do not attempt a complete enumeration
even of the clalTes of complex general con-
ceptions. Thofe I have named as a fpecimen,
1 think, are moflly comprehended under what
Mr. Locke calls mixed modes and relations;
which, he juftly obferves, have names given
thein in language, in preference to innumera-
ble others that might be formed; for this rea-
fon only, that they are ufeful for the purpofc
of communicating our thoughts by language.

In all the languages of mankind, not only
the writings and difcourfes of the learned, but
the converfation of the vulgar, is almofl en-
tirely made up of general words, which are
the figns of general conceptions, either fimple
or complex. And in every language, we find
the terms fignifying complex notions to be

Vol. II. K fuch.

v^ — .,

130 E S S A Y V.

C H A p. fuch, and only fuch, as the ufe of language
'^- require*.

There remains a verv large clafs of complex
general rerms, on i\hich I fl^all make fomeob-
fervations ; I mean thofe by which we name the
fptcies, genera, and tribes of natural fubflan-
cef.

It is utihty, indeed, that leads us to give ge-
neral names to the various fpecies of natural
fubftances; but, in combining the attributes
which are included under the fpecific name,
we are more aided and directed by Nature,
than in forming other combinations of mixed
modes and relations. In the laft, the ingre-
dients are brought together in the occurrences
of life, or in the aftions or thoughts of men.
But, in the firft, the ingredients are united by
nature in many individual fubftances which
God has made. We form a general notion
of thofe attributes, wherein many individuals
agree. We give a fpecific name i:o this com-
bination ; which name is common to all fub-
ftances havi.og thofe attributes, which either
do or may exift. The fpecinc name compre-
hends neither more nor fewer attributes than
we find proper to put into its definition. .It
comprehends not time, nor place, nor even
exigence, although there can be no individual
without thefe.

This work of the underftanding is abfolute-
ly neceiTary for fpeaking intelligibly of the pro-
duftions of Nature, and for reaping the be-
nefits we receive, and avoiding the dangers
we are expofed to from them. The individuals
are fo many, that to give a proper name to
each would be beyond the power of language.
If a good or bad quality was obferved in an
individual, of how fmall ufe v/ould this be, if

there

Conceptions formed by Combination. 13 1

there was not a fpecies in which the fame qua-C HAP.
lity might be expeded ? ^V.

Without fome general knowledge of the
qualities of natural fubflances, human life
could not be referved. And there can be no
general knowledge of this kind, without re-
ducing them to fpecies under fpecific names.
For this reafon, among the rudefl nations, we
find names for fire, water, earth, air, moun-
tains, fountains, rivers; for the kinds of vege-
tables they ufe; of animals they hunt or tame,
or that are found ufeful or hurtful.

Each of thofe names fignifies in general a
fubftance having a certain combination of at-
tributes. The name therefore muft be com-
mon to all fubftances in which thofe attributes
are found.

Such general names of fubftances being
found in all vulgar languages, before Philofo-
phers began to make accurate divifions, and
lefs obvious diftinftions, it is not to be expeft-
ed that their meaning fliould be more precife
than is neceifary for the common purpofes of
life.

As the knowledge of Nature advances,
more fpecies of natural fubftances are obferved,
and their ufeful qualities difcovered. In order
that this important part of human knowledge
may be communicated, and handed down to
future generations, it is not fufficient that the
fpecies have names. Such is the fluctuating
ftate of language, that a general name will not
always retain the fame precife fignification,
unlefs it have a definition in which men are dif-
pofed to acquiefce.

There was undoubtedly a great fund of na-
tural knowledge among the Greeks and Ro-
mans in the time of Pliny. There is a great
fund in his natural hiftory ; but much of it is
K 2 loft

132

ESSAY V.

CHAP, loft to us, for this reafon among others, that
^^- we know not what fpecies of fubftance he
^~^~ ^ means by fuch a name.

Nothing could have prevented this lofs but
an accurate definition of the name, by which
the fpecies might have been diftinguifhed from
all others, as long as that name and its defini-
tion remained.

To prevent fuch lofs in future times, modern
Philofophers have very laudably attempted to
give names and accurate definitions of all the
known fpecies of fubftances, wherewith the
bountiful Creator hath enriched our globe.

This is neceifary, in order to form a copious
and diftinct language concerning them, and
confequently to facilitate our knowledge of
them, and to convey it to future generations.

Every fpecies that is known to exiP. ought to
have a name; and that name ought to be de-
fined by fuch attributes as ferve beft to diftin-
guifli the fpecies from all others.

Nature invites to this work, by having form-
ed things fo as to make it both eafy and im-
portant.

For, firji^ We perceive numbers of indivi-
dual fubftances fo like in their obvious quali-
ties, that the moft unimproved tribes of men
confider them as of one fpecies, and give them
one common name.

Secondly, The more latent qualities of fub-
ftances are generally the fame in all the indivi-
duals of a fpecies: So that what, by obferva-
tion or experiment, is found in a few indivi-
duals of a fpecies, is prefumed, and common-
ly found to belong to the whole. By this we
are enabled, from particular facls, to draw
general conclufions. This kind of induction
is indeed the mafter-key to the knowledge of

Nature,

Conceptions formed by Combination.

jj)

Nature, without which we could form no ge- CHAP,
neral conclufions in that branch of philofophy. ^^•

-And, thirdly. By the very conftitution of '*''''"'''"*^
our nature, we are led, without reafoning, to
afcribe to the whole fpecies what we have
found to belong to the individuals. It is thus
we come to know that fire burns, and water
drowns ; that bodies gravitate, and bread nou-
rifhes.

The fpecies of two of the kingdoms of Na-
ture, to wit, the animal and the vegetable,'
feem to be fixed by Nature, by the power they
have of producing their like. And in thefe,
men in all ages and nations have accounted the
parent and the progeny of the fame fpecies.
The differences among Naturalifts, with re-
gard to the fpecies of thefe two kingdoms,
are very inconfiderable, and may be occafioned
by the changes produced by foil, climate,
and culture, and fometimes by monftrous pro-
dutlions, which are comparatively rare.

In the inanimate kingdom we have not the
fame means of dividing things into fpecies,
and therefore the limits of fpecies feem to be
more arbitrary : But from the progrefs already
made, there is ground to hope, that even in
this kingdom, as the knowledge of it advances,
the various fpecies may be fo well diflinguifh-
ed and defined as to anfwer every valuable pur-
pofe.

When the fpecies are fo numerous as to bur-
den the memory, it is greatly affifted by dif-
tributing them into genera; the genera into
tribes, the tribes into orders, and the orders
into claffes.

Such a regular diflribution of natural fub-
ftances, by divifions andfubdivifions, has got
the name of a fyftem.

It

134

ESSAY V.

It is not a fyftem of truths, but a fyftem of
general terms, with their definitions; and it
is not only a great help to memory, but faci-
litates very much the definition of the terms.
For the definition of the genus is common to
all the fpecies of that genus, and fo is under-
flood in the definition of each fpecies, without
the trouble of repetition. In like manner, the
definition of a tribe is underftood in the defi-
nition of every genus, and every fpecies of
that tribe ; and the fame may be faid of every
fuperior divifion.

The effedl of fuch a fyftematical diftribution
of the productions of Nature, is feen in our
fyftems of zoology, botany, and mineralogy ;
in which a fpecies is commonly defined accu-
rately in a line or tv/o, which, without the
fyftematical arrangement, could hardly be de-
fined in a page.

With regard to the utility of fyftems of this
kind, men have gone into contrary extremes ;
fome have treated them with contempt, as a
mere dictionary of words ; others, perhaps,
reft in fuch fyftems, as all that is worth know-
ing in the works of Nature.

On the one hand, it is not the intention of
fuch fyftems to communicate all that is known
of the natural produ£tions which they defcribe.
The properties moft fit for defining and diftin-
guilhing the feveral- fpecies, ars^ not always
thofe that ?re moft ufefui to be known. To
diicover and to communici'.te the ufes of natu-
ral fubftances in life, and in the arts, is no
doubt that part of the bufmefs of a Naturalift
which is the moft important ; and the fyftema-
tical arrangement of them is chiefly to be va-
lued

CoucEFTio'SS formed by Combination. ^2)5

lued for its fublerviency to this end. This^^^^^*
every judicious Naturalid will grant. , , ^ J.^

But, on the other hand, the labour is no't
to be defpifed, by which the road to an ufeful
and important branch of knowledge is made
eafy in all time to come ; efpecially when tins
labour requires both extenfive knowledge and
great abilities.

The talent of arranging properly, and defi-
ning accurately, is fo rare, and at the fame
time fo ufeful, that it may very juftly be confi-
dered as a proof of real genius, and as entitled
to a higher degree of praife. There is an in-
trinfic beauty in arrangement, which capti-
vates the mind, and gives pleafure, even ab-
ftradting from its utility ; as in mofl: other
things, fo in this particularly, Nature has join-
ed beauty with utility. The arrangement of
an army in the day of battle is a grand fpecla-
cle. The fame men crowded in a fair, have
no fuch effeci:. It is not more ftrange there-
fore that fome men fpend their d.iys in Itudying
fyftems of Nature, than that other men employ
their lives in the ftudy of language^'. The
moll important end of thole fyftems, lurely is
to form a copious and an unambiguous lan-
guage concerning the productions of Nature,
by which every ufeful difcovery concerning
them may be communicated to the prefeiu,
and tranfmitted to all future generations, with-
out danger of miftake.

General terms, efpecially fuch as are com-
plex in their fignification, will never keep one
precife meaning without accurate definition ;
and accurate definitions of fuch terms can in
no way be formed fo eafily and advantageouf-

136 E S S A Y V.

CHAP. Ivj as by reducing the things they fignify into
• a regular fyftem.

Very eminent men in the medical profeffion,
in order to remove ail ambiguity in the names
of difeafes, and to advance the healing art,
have of late attem^pted to reduce into a fyfte-
matical order the difeafes of the human body,
and to give diflinft names, and accurate defi-
nitions, of the feveral fpecies, genera^ orders,
and claifes, into which they djftribute them ;
and I apprehend, that in every art and fcience,
where the terms of the art have any ambiguity
that obftructs its progrefs, this method will be
found the eafieft and mod fuccefsful for the
remedy of that evil.

It were even to be wiflied, that the general
terms which we find in common language, as
well as thofe of the arts and fciences, could be
reduced to a fyftematical arrangement, and de-
fined fo as that they might be free from ambi-
guity ; but perhaps the obflacles to this are in-
surmountable. 1 know no man who has at-
tempted it but Bifliop WiLKiNS in his Eifay
towards a real character and a philofophical
language. The attempt was grand, and wor-
thy of a man of genius.

The formation of fuch fyflems, therefore,
of the various productions of Nature, inftead
of being defpifed, ought to be ranked among
the valuable improvements of modern ages,
and to be the more efteemed that its utility
reaches to the moft diflant future times, and,
like the invention of writing, ferves to embalm
a moft important branch of human knowledge,
and to preferve it from being corrupted or
loft.

CHAP.

Of NAMES ^/-^^w 10 GENERAL NOTIONS.

C H A P. V.

Obfervations concerning the Names given to our
general Notions.

HAVING now explained, as well as I am
able, thofe operations of the mind by
which we analyfe the objefts which Nature
prefents to our obfervation, into their fimple
attributes, giving a general name to each,
and by which we combine any number of fuch
attributes into one whole, and give a general
name to that combination, I fhall offer fome
obfervations relating to our general notions,
whether fimple or complex.

I apprehend that the names given to them
by modern Philofophers have contributed to
darken our fpeculations about them, and to
render them difficult and abflrufe.

We call them general notions, conceptions,
ideas. The words notion and conception, in
their proper and mod common fenfe, fignify
the atl or operation of the mind in conceiving
an obje6l. In a figurative fenfe, they are
fometimes put for the object conceived. And
I think they are rarely, if ever, ufed in this
figurative fenfe, except when we fpeak of what
we call general notions or general conceptions.
The word idea, as it is ufed in modern times,
has the fame ambiguity.

Now, it is only in the lafl of thefe fenfes,
and not in the firft, that we can be faid to have
general notions or conceptions. The genera-
lity is in the objcft conceived, and not in the
aft of the mind by which it is conceived.
Every act of the mind is an individual aft,

which

138 ESSAY V.

CHAP, which does or did exift. But we have power
to conceive things which neither do nor ever
did exift. We have power to conceive attri-
butes without regard to their exiftence. The
conception of fuch an attribute is a real and
individual aft of the mind ; but the attribute
conceived is common to many individuals that
do or may exift. We are too apt to confound
an objeS; of conception with the con .eption of
that object. But the danger of doing .i-'s niuft
be much greater when the object of conception
is called a conception.

The Peripatetics gave to fuch objects of
conception the names of univerfals, and of
predicables. Thofe names had no ambiguity,
and I think were much more fit to exprefs
what was meant by them than the names we
ufe.

It is for this reafon that I have fo often ufed
the word attribute, which has the fame mean-
ing with predicable. And for the fame reafon,
I have thought it neceflary repeatedly to warn
the reader, that when, in compliance with
cuftom, I fpeak of general notions or general
conceptions, I always mean things conceived,
and not the aft of the mind in conceiving
them.

The Pythagoreans and Piatonifts gave the
name of ideas to fuch general objefts of con-
ception, and to nothing elfe. As we borrow-
ed the word idea from them, fo that it is now
familiar in all the languages of Europe, I think
it would have been happy if we had alfo bor-
rowed their meaning, and had ufed it only to
fignify what they meant by it. I apprehend
we want an unambiguous word to diftinguifti
things barely conceived from things that exift.

If

Of NAMES given to general NOTIONS. 139

If the word idea was ufed for this purpofe only, CHAP,
it would be reftored to its original meaning, '^•
and fuppiy that want.

We may furely agree with the Platonifts in
the meaning of the v/ord idea^ without adopt-
ing their theory concerning ideas. We need
not believe, with them, that ideas are eternal
and fclf-exiflent, and that they have a more
real exiftence than the things we fee and feel.
They were led to give exiftence to ideas,
from the common prejudice that every thing
which is an object of conception muPc really
exift ; and having once given exiftence to
ideas, the reft of their myfterious fyftem about
ideas followed of courfe ; for things merely
conceived, have neither beginning nor end,
time nor place ; they are fubject to no change;
they are the patterns and exemplars according
to which the Deity made every thing that he
made ; for the work muft be conceived by the
artificer before it is made.

Thefe are undeniable attributes of the ideas
of Plato, and if w^ add to them that of real
exiftence, we have the whole myfterious fyftem
of Platonic ideas. Take away the attribute of
exiftence, and fuppofe them not to be things
that exift, but things that are barely conceived,
and all the myftery is removed ; all that re-
mains is level to the human underftanding.

The word ejfcnce came to be much ufed
among the fchoolmen, and what the Platonifts
called the idea of a fpecies, they called its
eftence. The word ejfentia is faid to have been
made by Cicero ; but even his authority could
not give it currency, until long after his time.
It came at laft to be ufed, and the fchoolmen
fell into much the fame opinions concerning

elfencQS,

140 ESSAY V.

CHAP, eflences, as the Platonifts held concerning
y- ideas. The elTences of things were held to be
^''^'^^ uncreated, eternal, and immutable.

Mr. Locke diftinguifhes two kinds of
eflence, the real and the nominal. By the real
effence he means the conftitution of an indivi-
dual, which makes it to be what it is. This
efience muft begin and end with the individual
to which it belongs. It is not therefore a
Platonic idea. But what Mr. Locke calls the
nominal effence, is the conftitution of a fpecies,
or that which makes an individual to be of fuch
a fpecies ; and this is nothing but that combi-
nation of attributes which is fignified by the
name of the fpecies, and which we conceive
without regard to exiflence.

The effence of a fpecies therefore, is what
the Platonifls called the idea of the fpecies.

If the word idea be reftrided to the meaning
which it bore among the Platonifts and Pytha-
goreans, many things which Mr. Locke has
faid with regard to ideas will be juft and true,
and others will not.

It will be true, that moft words, (indeed all
general words,) are the figns of ideas ; but
proper names are not ; they fignify individual
things, and not ideas. It will be true not only
that there are general and abftract ideas, but
that all ideas are general and abftracl:. It will
be fo far from the truth, that all our fmiple
ideas are got immediately, either from fenfa-
tion, or from confcioufnefs ; that no fimple
idea is got by either, v.'ithout the co-operation
of other powers. The objeds of fenfe, ot me-
mory, and of confcioufnefs, are not ideas but
individuals ; they muft be analyfed by the un-
derftanding into their fimple ingredients, be-
fore

Of NAMES given to general NOTIONS. 141

fore we can have fimple ideas ; and thofe fimple CHAP,
ideas muft be again combined by the under- Y-
{landing, in diftin6t parcels with names annex-*" — ^""^
ed, in order to give us complex ideas : It will
be probable not only that brutes have no ab-
ftraft ideas, but that they have no ideas at all.

I fhall only add, that the learned author of
the origin and progrefs of language, and per-
haps his learned friend Mr. Harrjs, are the
only modern authors I have met with, who re-
flridl the word idea to this meaning. Their
acquaintance with ancient philofophy led them
to this. What pity is it that a word, which in
ancient philofophy had a diftinft meaning, and
which, if kept to that meaning, would have
been a real acquifiticn to our language, fhould
be ufed by the moderns in fo vague and am-
biguous a manner, that it is more apt to per-
plex and darken our fpeculations, than to
convey ufeful knowledge.

From all that has been faid about abflraft
and general conceptions, I think we may draw
the following conclufions concerning them.

Firji^ That it is by abflradion that the mind
is furnifhed with all its mofl fmiple, and mod
diftin£t notions: The hmplefl; objeds of fenfe
appear both complex and indiftinct, until by
abftradion they are analyfed into their more
fimple elements ; and the fame may be faid of
the objects of memory and of confcioufnefs.

Secondly, Our mofl diftinct complex notions
are thofe that are formed by compounding the
fimple notions got by abftraclion.

Thirdly, Without the powers of abflradling
and generalifing, it would be impolTible to re-
duce things into any order and method, by di-
viding them into genera and fpecies.

Fourthly^

142 E S S A Y V.

C HA P. Fourthly, Without thofe powers there could
^- be no definition j for definition can only be ap-
^ plied to univerfals, and no individual can be
defined.

Fifthly, Without abftradl and general notions
there can neither be reafoning nor language.

Sixthly, As brute animals Ihew no figns
of being able to diftinguifh the various attri-
butes of the fame fubjeft ; of being able to clafs
things into genera and fpecies ; to define, to
reafon, or to communicate their thoughts by
artificial figns, as men do ; I muft think -with
Mr. Locke, that they have not the powers of
abfl:rai9:ing and generalifing ; and that in this
particular Nature has made afpecific difference
between them and the human fpecies.

CHAP.

OPINIONS ABOUT UNIVERSALS. 143

CHAP. VL

Opinions of Fhilofophers about Univerfah*

IN the ancient philofophy, the doftrine of
univerfals, that is, of things which we ex-
prefs by general terms, makes a great figure.
The ideas of the Pythagoreans and Platoniils,
of which fo much has been already faid, were
univerfals. All fcience is employed about uni-
verfals as its objeft. It was thought that there
can be no fcience unlefs its objeft be fomething
real and immutable ; and therefore thofe who
paid homage to truth and fcience, maintained
that ideas or univerfals have a real and immu-
table exiftence.

The fceptics, on the contrary, (for there
were fceptical Philofophers in thofe early days)
maintained, that all things are mutable, and
in a perpetual flud;uation ; and from this prin-
ciple inferred, that there is no fcience, no
truth ; that all is uncertain opinion.

Plato, and his mafters of the Pythagorean
fchool, yielded this with regard to objefts of
fenfe, and acknowledged that there could be
no fcience or certain knowledge concerning
them : But they held, that there are objeds of
intelleft of a fuperior order and nature, which
are permanent and immutable. Thefe are
ideas, or univerfal natures, of which the ob-
jefts of fenfe are only the images and fliadows.

To thefe ideas they afcribed, as I have al-
ready obferved, the moft magnificent attri-
butes. Of man, of a rofe, of a circle, and of
every fpecies of things, they believed that there

is

144 ESSAY V.

C HA P. is one idea or form, which exifted from eter-
nity, before any individual of the fpecies was
formed : That this idea is the exemplar or
pattern, according to which the Deity formed
the individuals of the fpecies : That every in-
dividual of the fpecies participates of this idea,
which conftitutes its eflence ; and that this idea
is likewife an objed of the human intellect,
when, by due abftraftion, we difcern it to be
one in all the individuals of the fpecies.

Thus the idea of every fpecies, though one
and immutable, might be confidered in three
different views or refpecls ; firjl.^ as having an
eternal exiftence before there was any indivi-
dual of the fpecies ; fecondly', as exifting in
every individual of that fpecies, without divi-
fion or multiplication, and making the eifence
of the fpecies ; and, thirdly^ as an object of
intellect and of fcience in man.

Such I take to be the do6trine of Plato, as
far as I am able to comprehend it. His difciple
Aristotle rejedted the firft of thefe views of
ideas as vifionary, but ditfered Httle from his
mafter with regard to the tv/o lad. He did
not admit the exiftence of univerfal natures an-
tecedent to the exiftence of individuals ; but he
held, that every individual confifts of matter
and form : That the form (which I take to be
what Plato calls the idea) is common to all
the individuals of the fpecies, and that the hu-
man intellect is fitted to receive the forms of
things as objects of contemplation. Such pro-
found fpeculations about the nature of univer-
fals, we find even in the firft ages of philofophy.
I wifh I could make them more intelligible to
myfelf and to the reader.

The

OPINIONS ABOUT UNIVERSALS. 145

The divifion of univerfals into five clalTes ; C H A P.
to wit, genus, fpecies, fp^c^fic difference, pro- ^^■
perties, and accidents, is likew'fe very ancient, ^^ '
and I conceive was borrowed by the Peripate-
tics from the Pythagorean fchcoL

Porphyry has given us a very diftinft trea-
tife upon thefe, as an introduction to Aristo-
tle's categories. But he has omitted the in-
tricate metaphyfical queflions that were agita-
ted about their nature ; fuch as, Whether gene-
ra and fpecies do really exifl in nature? Whether
they are corporeal or incorporeal ? And whe-
ther they are inherent in the objects of fenfe^
or disjoined from them ? Thefe queftions he
tells us, for brevity's fake, he omits, becaufe
they are very profound, and require accurate
difcuffion. It is probable, that thefe queftions
€xercifed the wits of the Philofophers till about
the twelfth century.

About that time, Roscelinus or Rusceli-
NUSi the mafter of the famous Abei-ard, in-
troduced a new do£trine, that there is nothing
univerfal but words or names. For this, and
other herefies, he was much perfecuted. Howe-
ver, by his eloquence and abilities, and thofe
of his difciple Abelard, the dodrine fpread^
and thofe who followed it were called Nomi-
nalifts. His antagonifts, who held that there
are things that are really univerfal, were called
Realifts. The fcholaftic Philofophers, from
the beginning of the twelfth century, were di-
vided into thefe two feds. Some few took a
middle road between the contending parties.
That univeifality, which the Realifts held to be
in things themfelves, Nominalifls in name only.
They held to be neither in things nor in names
only, but in our conceptions. On this ac-

VoL. II. L count

146 ESSAY V.

C H A P. count they were called Conceptualifls : But
^^- being expofed to the batteries of both the op-
'pofite parties, they made no great figure.

When the fe£t: of Nominahfts was like to
expire, it received new life and fpirit from
Occam, the difciple of Scotus, in the four-
teenth century. Then the difpute about uni-
verfals, a parte ret, w-as revived with the great-
eft animofity in the fchools of Britain, France,
and Germany, and carried on, not by argu-
ments only, but by bitter reproaches, blows,
and bloody affrays, until the doctrines of Lu-
ther and the other Reformers turned the at-
tention of the learned word to more important
fubjecls.

After the revival of learning, Mr. Hobbes
adopted the opinion of the Nominalifts. Hu-
man nature, chap. 5. fe6t. 6. "It is plain,
" therefore, fays he, that there is nothing uni-
*' verfal but names." And in his Leviathan,
part I. chap. 4. " There being nothing uni-
" verfal but names, proper names bring to
*' mind one thing only 5 univerfals recal any
" one of many."

Mr. Locke, according to the divifion before
mentioned, I think, may be accounted a Con-
ceptualift. He does not m.aintain that there
are things that are univerfal ; but that we have
general or univerfal ideas which we form by
abftraftion ; and this power of forming abftraO:
and general ideas, he conceives to be that
which makes the chief diftinclion in point of
underftanding between men and brutes.

Mr. Locke's doftrine about abftraftion has
been combated by two very powerful antago-
nifts, Bifhop Berkeley and Mr. Hume, who
have taken up the opinion of the Nominalifts.

The

OPINIONS ABOUT UNIVERSALS. 147

The former thinks, " That the opinion, thafCHAP.

** the mind hath a power of forming abftract ^^•

" ideas, or notions of things, has had a chief

" part in rendering fpeculation intricate and

" perplexed, and has occafioned innumerable

*' errors and difficulties in almoft all parts of

*' knowledge.'* That, " abftraft ideas are

" like a fine and fubtile net, which has mife-

*' rably perplexed and entangled the minds of

" men, with this peculiar circumftance, that

" by how much the finer and more curious

" was the wit of any man, by fo much the

** deeper was he like to be enfnared, and fafter

" held therein." That " among all the falfe

" principles that have obtained in the world,

*' there is none hath a more wide , influence

" over the thoughts of fpeculative men than

*' this of abftraft general ideas.'*

The good Bifhop therefore, in twenty-four
pages of the Introduction to his Principles of
Human Knowledge, encounters this principle
with a zeal proportioned to his apprehenfion of
its mahgnant and extenfive influence.

That the zeal of the fceptical Philofopher
againft abftract ideas was almoft equal to that
of the Bifliop, appears from his words, Trea-
tife of Human Nature, book 1. part i. fed. 7.
*' A very material queftion has been ftarted
*' concerning abftra6t or general ideas, whe-
" ther they be general or particular in the
*' mind's conception of them ? A great Philo-
" fopher (he means Dr. Berkeley) has dif-
*' puted the received opinion in this particular,
'* and has aiferted, that all general ideas are
*' nothing but particular ones annexed to a
*' certain term, which gives them a more ex-
*' tenfive fignification, and makes them recal
La " upon

140

ESSAY V.

" upon occafion other individuals, which are
*' fimilar to them. As I look upon this to be
" one of the greated and moll valuable difco-
" veries that have been made of late years in
" the republic of letters, I fnall here endea-
" vour to confirm it by fame arguments,
" wliich I hope will put it beyond all doubt
" and controverfy."

I {hall make an end of this fubject, with
fome reflections on what has been faid ujx>n it
by thefe two eminent Philofophers.

i7>/'?, I apprehend that we cannot, with pro-
priety, be faid to have abftratt and general
ideas, either in the popular or in the philofo-
phical fenfe of that word. In the popular fenfe
an idea is a thought ; it is the a<5t of the mind
in thinking, or in conceiving any object. This
act of the mind is always an individual act, and
therefore there can be no general idea in this
fenfe. In the philofophical fenfe, an idea is an
image in the mind, or in the brain, which in
Mr. Locke's fyllem is the immediate object of
thought; in the fyftem of Berkeley and
Hume the only object of thought. I believe
there are no ideas of this kind, and therefore
no abftract general ideas. Indeed, if there
were really fuch images in the mind, or in the
brain, they could not be general, becaufe
every thing that really exifts is an individual.
Univerfals are neither ads of the mind, nor
images in the mind.

As therefore there are no general ideas in
either of the fenfes in which the word idea is
ufed by the moderns, Berkeley and Hume
have in this queflion an advantage over Mr.
Locke ; and their arguments againft him are
good ad homiimn. They faw farther than he

did

OPINIONS ABorjT UNIVERSALS. 149

did into the juft ccnfequences of the hypothefisC H A P-
concerning ideas, which was common to them
and to him ; and they reafoned juftly from this
hypothefis, when they concluded from it, that
there is neither a material world, nor any fuch
power in the human mind as that of ab-
ftradion.

A triangle, in general, or any other uni-
Verfal, might be called an idea by a Platoniil; ;
but, in the ftyle of modern philofophy, it is
not an idea, nor do we ever afcribe to ideas
the properties of triangles. It is never faid of
any idea, that it has three fides and three an-
gles. We do not fpeak of equilateral, ifofce-
les, or fcalene ideas, nor of right angled,
aicute angled, or obtufe angled ideas. And
if thefe attributes do not belong to ideas, it
follows neceffarily, that a triangle is not an
idea. The fame reafoning may be applied to
every other univerfal.

Ideas are faid to have a real exiftence in the
mind, at leaft, while we think of them ; but
univerfals have no real exiftence. V/hen we
afcribe exiftence to them, it is not an exif-
fence in time or place, but exiftence in fome
individual fubjeft ; and this exiftence means
no more but that they are truly attributes of
fuch a fubjett. Their exiftence is nothing but
predicability, or the capacity of being attribu-
ted to a fubje£l. The name of predicables,
which was given them in ancient philofophy,
is that which moft properly exprefles their na-
ture.

2. I think it muft be granted, in the fccond
place, that univerfals cannot be the objeds of
imagination, when we take that word in its
ftrid and proper fenfe. '* I find, fays Ber-

*• KELEY,

ISO E S S A Y V.

CHAP." KELEY, " I have a faculty of imagining or
" reprefenting to myfelf the ideas of thofe

particular things I have perceived, and of
" varioully compounding and dividing them.
*' I can imagine a man with two heads, or the
" upper parts of a man joined to the body of
*' a horfe. I can imagine the hand, the eye,
*' the nofe, each by itfelf, abftraded or fepa-
'' rated from the reft of the body. But then,
" whatever hand or eye I imagine, it mufl
*' have fome particular fliape or colour.
*' Likewife, the idea of a man that I frame to
^' myfelf mud be either of a white, or a black,
" or a tawny, a ftraight or a crooked, a tall,
" or a low, or a middle-fized man."

I believe every man will find in himfelf what
this ingenious author found, that he cannot
imagine a man without colour, or flature, or
fhape.

Imagination, as we before obferved, proi-
perly fignifies a conception of the appearance
an object would make to the eye, if actually
feen. An univerfal is not an object of any
external fenfe, and therefore cannot be ima-
gined ; but it may be diftinctly conceived.
When Mr. Pope fays, " the proper iludy of
*' mankind is man," I conceive his meaning
diflincllv, thouc^h I neither imagine a black or
a white, a crooked or a ftraight man. The
diftin£tion between conception and imaginati-
on is real, though it be too often overlooked,
and the words taken to be fynonimous. I can
conceive a thing that is impoflible, but I can-
not diftinftly imagine a thing that is impofli-
ble. I can conceive a propofition or a demon-
Itration, but I cannot imagine either. I can
ponceive underftanding and will, virtue and

vice.

OPINIONS ABOUT UNIVERSALS. 151

vice, and other attributes of mind, but I can- ^ ^J^ ^*
not imagine them. In like manner, I can
diftinftly conceive univerlals, but I cannot
imagine them.

As to the manner how we conceiv'^e univer-
fals, I confefs my ignorance. I know not how
I hear, or fee, or remember, and as little do
I know how I conceive things that have no ex-
iftence. In all our original faculties, the fa-
bric and manner of operation is, I apprehend,
beyond our comprehenfion, and perhaps is
perfedly underflood by him only who made
them.

But we ought not to deny a facl of which
we are confcious, though we know not how
it is brought about. And I think we may be
certain that univerfals are not conceived by
means of images of them in our minds, be-
caufe there can be no image of an univerfal.

3. It feems to me, that on this queftionMr.
Locke and his two antagonifts have divided
the truth between them. He faw very clearly,
that the power of forming abftrad and general
conceptions is one of the mod diftinguifhing
powers of the human mind, and puts a fpecific
difference between man and the brute creati-
on. But he did not fee that this power is per-
fectly irreconcileable to his dodrine concern-
ing ideas.

His opponents faw this inconfiftency ; but
inflead of rejecting the hypothefis of ideas,
they explain away the power of abftraction,
and leave no fpecific diflinclion between the
human underftanding and that of brutes.

4. Berkeley, in his reafoning againft ab-
ftraft general ideas, feems unwillingly or un-
warily

153 E S S A Y V.

CHAP, warily to grant all that is neceffary to fupport
^- abftracl and general conceptions.

^-^^""^^ " A man, he fays, may confider a figure
'* merely as triangular, without attending to
" the particular qualities of the angles, or re-
" lations of the fides. So far he may abflraft.
" But this will never prove that he can frame
^' an abftratf. general inGonfiftent idea of a
" triangle."

If a man may confider a figure merely a$
triangular, he muft have fome conception of
this objed of his confidcration : For no man
can confider a thing which he does not con-
ceive. He has a conception, therefore, of a
triangular fi.,ure, merely as fuch. I know no
more that is meant by an abftracl general con-
ception of a triangle.

He that confiders a figure merely as trian-
gular, mufl underftand what is meant by the
word triangular. If to the conception he joins
to this word, he adds any particular quality of
angles or relation of fides, he mifunderftands
it, and does not confider the figure merely a$
triangular. Whence I think it is evident,
that he who confiders a figure merely as tri-
angular muft have the conception of a trian-
gle, abftrading from any quality of angles or
relation of fides.

The Biftiop, in like manner, grants, " That
" we may confider Plter fo far forth as man,
" or fo far forth as animal, without framing
" the forementioned abftracl idea, in as much
" as all that is perceived is not confidered."
It m.ay here be obferved, that he who confiders
Peter fo far forth as man^ or fo far forth as
a;nimail, muft conceive the meaning of thofe
abftrad general words man and onimal^ and

he

OPINIONS ABOUT UNI VERS ALS. 153

he who conceives the meaning of them, hasC H A P.
an abftract general conception. ^^^•

From thefe conceflions, one would be apt to
conclude that the Bifhop thinks that we can
iibilraci:, but that we cannot frame abflract
ideas ; and in this I fliould agree with him.
But I cannot reconcile his concellions with the
general principle he lays down before. " To
'" be plain," fays he, "• I deny that I can ab-
" ftracl one fron\ another, or conceive fepa-
" rately thofe qualities which it is impofTible
" fliould exift fo feparated.'* This appears to
me inconfiftent with the concellions above
mentioned, and inconfident with experience.

If we can confider a figure merely as trian-
gular, without attending to the particular qua-
lity of the angles or relation of the fides, this,
I think, is conceiving feparately things which
cannot exifh fo feparated : For furely a triangle
cannot exift without a particular quality of an-
gles and relation of fides. And it is well
known from experience, that a man may have
a diftin6t conception of a triangle, without
having any conception or knowledge of many
of the properties without which a triangle can-
not exift.

Let us next ccnfider the Bifliop's notion of
generalifing. He does not abfolutely deny
that there are general ideas, but only that
there are abftrad general ideas. " An idea,**
he fays, " which, confidered in itfelf, is par-
" ticular, becomes general, by being made to
" reprefent or ftand for all other particular
" ideas of the fame fort. To make this plain
" by an example, Suppofe a Geometrician is
'* demonftrating the method of cutting a line
" in two equal parts. He draws, for inftance,

'• a black

154 E S S A Y V.

CHAP." a black line of an inch in length. This,
^*- " which is in itfelf a particular line, is never-
thelefs, with regard to its fignification, ge-
" neral ; fmce, as it is there ufed, it repre-
" fents all particular lines whatfoever ; fo that
" what is demonllrated of it, is demon-
" ftrated of all lines, or, in other words,
" of a line in general. And as that par-
" ticular line becomes general by be-
" ing made a fign, fo the name Ime, which,
" taken abiolutely, is particular, by being a
" fign, is made general."

Here I obferve, that when a particular idea
is made a fign to reprefent and ftand for all of
a fort, this fuppofes a diftindlion of things into
forts or fpecies. To be of a fort implies hav-
ing thofe attributes which characterife the fort,
and are common to all the individuals that be-
long to it. There cannot, therefore, be a fort
without general attributes, nor can there be
any conception of a fort without a conception
of thofe general attributes which diftinguilh it.
The conception of a fort, therefore, is an ab-
flracl general conception.

The particular idea cannot furely be made a
fign of a thing of which we have no concepti-
on. 1 do not fay that you mud have an idea
of the fort, but furely you ought to under-
fiand or conceive what it means, when you
make a particular idea a reprefsntative of it,
othervvife your particular idea reprefents, you
know not what.

When I demonflrate any general property of
a triangle, fuch as, that the three angles are
equal to two right angles, I muft underftand
or conceive diltinclly what is common to all
triangles. I mufl: diftinguiOa the common at-
tributes

OPINIONS ABOUT UNIVERSALS. 155

tributes of all triangles from thofe wherein par- CHAP,
ticular triangles may differ. And if I conceive '^^•
diflinftly what is common to all triangles,
without confounding it with w^hat is not fo,
this is to form a general conception of a trian-
gle. And without this, it is impollible to know
that the demonftration extends to all triangles.

The Bifhop takes particular notice of this
argument, and makes this anfwer to it.
" Though the idea 1 have in view, whilft I
" make the demonftration, be, for inftance,
*' that of an ifofceles rectangular triangle,
" whofe fides are of a determinate length, I
*' may neverthelefs be certain that it extends
" to all other redilinear triangles, of what
" fort or bignefs foever ; and that becaufe
" neither the right angle, nor the equality or
" determinate length of the fides, are at all
" concerned in the demonftration."

But if he do not, in the idea he has in view,
clearly diftinguifh what is common to all tri-
angles from what is not, it would be impoffi-
ble to difcern whether fomething that is not
common be concerned in the demonftration or
not. In order, therefore, to perceive that the
demonftration extends to all triangles, it is
neceifary to have a diftinft conception of what
is common to all triangles, excluding from that
conception all that is not common. And this
is all I underftand by an abftract general con-
ception of a triangle.

Berkeley catches an advantage to his fide
of the queftion, from what Mr. Locke ex-
preffes (too ftrongly indeed) of the difficulty
of framing abftract general ideas, and the pains
and (kill neceflary for that purpofe. From
which the Bifhop infers, that a thing fo diffi-
cult

I

156 ESSAY V.

C HA P. cult cannot be neceflary for communkation by
^'- language, which is fo eafy and familiar to all
^^-^^"'^''^ forts of men.

There may be fome abftraft and general
conceptions that are difficult, or even beyond
the reach of perfons of weak undtrrtanding ;
but there are innumerable, which are not be-
yond the reach of children. It is impoffible to
learn language without acquiring general con-
ceptions ; for there cannot be a fmgle fentence
without them, I believe the forming thefe,
and being able to articulate the founds of lan-
guage^ make up the whole diincuky that chil-
dren find in learning language at firlfc.

But this difficulty, we fee, they are able to
overcome fo early as not to remember the pains
it cou them. They have the ftrongeft induce-
ment to exert all their labour and fkill, in or-
der to underftand, and to be underftaod j and
they no doubt do fo.

The labour of forming abllracl notions, is
the labour of learning to fpeak, and to under-
ftand what is fpoken. As the words of every
language, excepting a few proper names, are
general words, the minds of children are fur-
nifhed with general conceptions, in proportion
as they learn the meaning of general words.
I believe mofl men have hardly any general no-
tions but thofe which are expreiTed by the ge-
neral words they hear and ufe in converfation.
The meaning of fome of thefe is learned by a
definition, vvhich at once conveys a diflincb
and accurate general conception. The mean-
ing of other general words we collect, by a
kind of induction, from the way in which we
fee them ufed on various cccafions by thofe
who underftand the language. Of thefe our

concep-

OPINIONS ABOUT UNIVERSALS. 157

conception is often lefs diRind, and in diffe-C HA P.
rent perfons is perhaps not perteftly the fame. ' '

^' Is it not a hard thing, fays the Bifiiop,
** that a couple of children cannot prate toge-
" ther of their fugar plumbs and rattles, and
'* the reft of their little trinkets, till they
'^ have firft tacked together numberlefs incon-
" fiftencies, and fo formed in their minds ab-
" draft general ideas, and annexed them to
" every common name they make ufe of."

However hard a thing it may be, it is an
evident truth, that a couple of children, even
about their fugar-plumbs and their rattles,
cannot prate fo as to underftand, and be un-
derftood, until they have learned to conceive
the meaning of many general words, and this,
I think, is to have general conceptions.

5. Having confidered the fentiments of Bi-
fhop Berkeley on this fubjedl, let us next at-
tend to thofe of Mr. Hume, as thev are ex-
preffed, part i. fett. 7. Treatife of Human
Nature. He agrees perfeftly with the Bifhop,
" That all general ideas are nothing but par-
" ticular ones annexed to a certain term,
" which gives them a more extenfive fignifi-
" cation, and makes them recal upon occafion
" other individuals which are fimilar to them.
" A particular idea becomes general, by
" being annexed to a general term ; that is,
'* to a term, which, from a cuftomary con-
" jundion, has a relation to many other par-
" ticular ideas, and readily recals them in the
*' imagination. Abftrad: ideas are therefore
'' in themfclves individual, however they m.ay
" become general in their reprefentation. The
" image in the mind is only that of a particu-
" lar objetl, though the application of it in

" our

isS ESSAY V.

C H A P. «' our reafoning be the fame as if it was uni-
^'J " verfal.'^
*"'*"'"**' Although Mr. Hume looks upon this to be
one of the greateft and moft valuable difcove-
ries that has been made of late years in the
republic of letters, it appears to be no other
than the opinion of the Nominalifts, about
which fo much difpute was held from the be-
ginning of the twelfth century down to the re-
formation, and which was afterwards fupport-
ed by Mr. Hobbes. I fliall briefly confider
the arguments, by which Mr. Hume hopes to
have put it beyond all doubt and controverfy.

Fir/i, He endeavours to prove, by three ar-
guments, that it is utterly impoffible to con-
ceive any quantity or quality, without forming
a precife notion of its degrees.

This is indeed a great undertaking ; but
if he could prove it, it is not fuflicient for his
purpofe ; for two reafons.

Fity^, Becaufe there are many attributes of
things, befides quantity and quality ; and it is
incumbent upon him to prove, that it is im-
poffible to conceive any attribute, without
forming a precife notion of its degree. Each
of the ten categories of Aristotle is a genus,
and mav be an attribute : And if he ihculd
prove of two of them, to wit, quantity and
quality, that there can be no general concep-
tion of them ; there remain eight behind, of
which this mull: be proved.
The other reafon is, becaufe, though it were im-
poffibleto conceive any quantity or quality, with-
out forming a precife notion of its degree, it
does not follow that it is impoffible to have a
general conception even of quantity and qua-
lity. The conception of a pound troy is th?

conception

OPINIONS ABOUT UNIVERSALS. ,^g

conception of a quantity, and of the precife de-C H A P.
gree of that quantity ; but it is- an abflra6t ge- VI.
neral conception notwithflanding, becaufe it ' ^^
may be the attribute of many individual bodies,
and of many kinds of bodies. He ought there-
fore to have proved, that we cannot conceive
quantity or quahty, or any other attribute,
without joining it infeparably to fome indivi-
dual fubjeft.

This remains to be proved, which will be
found no eafy matter. For inftance, I con-
ceive what is meant by a Japancfe as diflinclly
as what is meant by an Englifhman or a
Frenchman. It is true, a Japanefe is neither
quantity nor quality, but it is an attribute
common to every individual of a populous na-
tion. I never faw an individual of that nation,
and, if I can truft my confcioufnefs, the gene-
ral term does not lead me to imagine one in-
dividual of the fort as a reprefentative of all
others.

Though Mr. Hume, therefore, undertakes
much, yet, if he could prove all he undertakes
to prove, it would by no means be fufficient
to fliew that we have no abftratt general con-
ceptions.

Faffing this, let us attend to his arguments
for proving this extraordinary pofition, that it
is impoffible to conceive any quantity or qua-
lity, without forming a precife notion of its
degree.

The firfl: argument is, that it is impoffible to
diftinguifh things that are not aclually fepara-
ble. " The precife length of a line is not
•different or diftinguifhable from the line.

I have before endeavoured to fhew, that
things infeparable in their nature may be diftin-

guifhed

tGo ESSAY V.-

C H A P. guifhed In our conception. And we need go
}}^ no farther to b^ convinced of this, than the in-
flance here brought to prove the contrary,-
The precife length of a line, he fays, is not
diitinguiihable from the line. When I fay,
ibis is a line, I fay and meaii one thing. When
I fay it is a line of three inches, I fay and mean
another thing. If this be not to diltinguifh the
precife length of the line from the line, I know
not u'hat it is to diftinguifii.

Second argument. ^' Every objeft of fenfe,
" that is, every impreifion, is an individual,
" having its determinate degrees of quantity
*' and quality : But whatever is true of the
" impreffion is true of the idea, as they dlfl'er
*' in nothing but their ftrength and vivacity.''

The conchifion in this argument is indeed
juftly drawn from the premifes. If it be true
that ideas difi'er in nothing from objefts of fenfe
but in ftrength and vivacity, as it muft be
granted that all the objefls of fenfe are indivi-
duals, it will certainly follow that all ideas are
individuals. Granting therefore the juftnefs
of this conclufion, I beg leave to draw two other
conciufions from the fame premifes^ which
will follow no lefs neceffarily.

Firji, If ideas differ from the objefls of fenfe
only in flrength and vivacity, it will follow,
that the idea of a Hon is a lion of lefs ftrength
and vivacity. And hence may arife a very im-
portant queftion, Vv-'hether the idea of a lion
raay not tear in pieces, and devour the ideas of
fljeep, oxen, and horfes, and even of men,
women, and children ?

Secondly^ If ideas differ only in ftrength and
vivacity from the objeds of fenfe, it will fol-
low.

OPINIONS ABout UNIVERSALS. 16 1

low, that objeds, merely conceived, arenotCHAP.
idea's ; for fuch objefts differ from the objects '^•
of fenfe in refpefts of a very different nature
from ftrength and vivacity. Every objeft of
fenfe muff have a real exiffence, and time and
place : But things merely conceived may nei-
ther have exiftence, nor time nor place ; and
therefore, though there fhould be no abffradt
ideas, it does not follow, that things abftra£t
and general may not be conceived.

The third argument is this : " It is a princi-
" pie generally received in philofophy, that
*' every thing in nature is individual ; and
*' that it is utterly abfurd to fuppofe a triangle
*' really exiftent, which has no precife propor-
'' tion of fides and angles. If this, therefore,
*' be abfurd in fadl and reality, it muft be ab-
*' furd in idea, fmce nothing of v/hich we can
*' form a clear and diftinft idea is abfurd or
«« impoffible.'*

I acknowledge it to be impoffible, that a tri-
angle fhould really exift which has no precife
proportion of fides and angles ; and impoffible
that any being fhould exift which is not an indi-
vidual being ; for, I think, a being and ail
individual being mean the fame thing : But
that there can be ho attributes common to many
individuals, I do not acknowledge. Thus, ta
many figures that really exift, it may be com-
mon that they are triangles ; and to many bo-
dies that exift, it may be common that they are
fluid. Triangle and fluid are not beings, they
are attributes of beings.

As to the principle here affurned, that no-
thing of which we can form a clear and dillind
idea is abfurd or impoffible, I refer to what

Vol. II, M was

i62 E S S A Y V.

CH A P. was faid upon it, chap. 3. Eflay 4. It is evi-
^yb_J dent, that in every mathematical demonflra-
tion, ad abfurdu?n, of which kind almoft one
half of mathematics confifts, we are required
to fuppofe, and confequently to conceive a
thing that is impollible. From that fuppofition
we reafon, until wt come to a conclufion that
is not only impoffible but abfurd. From this
we infer, that the propofition fuppofed at firfl
is impoffible, and therefore that its contradic-
tory is true.

As this is the nature of all demonflrations,
ad ahfurdum^ it is evident, (I do not fay that
we can have a clear and diflinft idea,) but
that we can clearly and diilinclly conceive
things impoffible.

The reft of Mr. Hume's difcourfe upon this
fubjecl is employed in explaining how an indi-
vidual idea, annexed to a general term, may
ferve all the purpofes in reafoning, which have
been afcribed to abftracl general ideas.

" When we have found a refemblance
*^^ among feveral objefts that often occur to us,
*' we apply the fame to all of them, whatever
*' differences we may obferve in the degree of
" their quantity and quality, and whatever
*' other differences may appear among them.
" After we have acquired a cuftom of this
*' kind, the hearing of that name revives the
" idea of one of thefe objects, and makes the
*' imagination conceive it, with all its circum-
** fiances and proportions." But along with
this idea, there is a readinefs to furvey any
other of the individuals to which the name be-
longs, and to obferve, that no conclufion be
formed contrary to any of them. If any fuch

concluiioD

OPINIONS ABOUT UNIVERSALS. 163

conclufion is formed, thofe Individual ideasCHAP.
•which contradi£b it, immediately crowd in upon ^^*
us, and make us perceive the falfehood of the'
propofition. If the mind fuggefl not always
thefe ideas upon occafion, it proceeds from
fome imperfetlion in its faculties ; and fuch a
one as is often the fource of falfe reafoning
and fophlftry.

This is in fubflance the way in which he ac-
counts for what he calls " the foregoing para-
dox, that fome ideas are particular in their
nature, but general in their reprefentation."
Upon this account I ihall make fome remarks.
I. He allows that we find a refemblance
among feveral objefts, and fuch a refemblance
as leads us to apply the fame name to all of
them. This conceffion is fufficient to fhew
that we have general conceptions. There can
be no refemblance in objeds that have no com-
mon attribute ; and if there be attributes be-
longing in common to feveral objects, and in
man a faculty to obferve and conceive thefe,
and to give names to them, this is to have ge-
neral conceptions.

I believe indeed we may have an indiftin£t
perception of refemblance, without knowing
wherein it lies. Thus, I may fee a refemblance
between one face and another, when I cannot
diftinclly fay in what feature they refemble :
But by analyfmg the two faces, and comparing
feature with feature, I may form a diifindt no-
tion of that which is common to both. A
painter, being accuftomed to an analyfis of
this kind, would have formed a diftind notion
of this refemblance at firfl fight ; to another
man it may require fome attention.

M 2 There-

i64 E S S A Y V,

There is therefore an indiflincl notion of re-
femblance when we compare the objects only
in grofs ; and this 1 beheve brute animals may
have. There is alfo a diilinct notion of re-
femblance, when we analyfe the obje£ls inta
their different attributes, and perceive them to-
agree in fome, while they differ in others. It
is in this cafe only that we give a name to the
attributes wherein they agree, which muft be
a common name, becaufe the thing fignified
by it is commoh. Thus, when I compare
cubes of different matter, I perceive them to
have this attribute in common, that they are
comprehended under fix equal fquares ; and
this attribute only, is fignified by applying the
name of cube to them all. When I compare
clean linen with fnow, I perceive them to agree
in colour ; and when I apply the name of
white to both, this name fignifies neither fnow
nor clean linen, but the attribute which is
common to both.

2. The author fays, that when we have
found a refemblance among feveral objects,
we apply the fame name to all of them.

It muft here be obferved, that there are two
kinds of names which the author feems to con-
found, though they are very different in nature^
and in the power they have in language. There
are proper names, and there are common
names or appellatives. The firft are the names
of individuals. The fame proper name is ne-
ver applied to feveral individuals on account of
their fimihtude, becaufe the very intention of
a proper name is to diftinguifh one individual
from all others ; and hence it is a maxim in
grammar, that proper names have no plural

number.

OPINIONS ABOUT UNIVERSALS. 165

number. A proper name fignifies nothing but CHAP,
the individual whofe name it is ; and when we ^^•
apply it to the individual, we neither affirm ^-"'v""'
nor deny any thing concerning him.

A common name or appellative is not the
name of any individual, but a general term,
fignifying fomething that is or may be common
to feveral individuals. Common names there-
fore fignify common attributes. Thus, when
I apply the name ot fon or brother to feveral
perfons, this fignifies and affirms that this at-
tribute is common to all of them.

From this it is evident, that the applying the
fame name to feveral individuals, on account
of their refemblance, can, in confiflence with
grammar and common fenfe, mean nothing
elfe than the expreffing by a general term fome-
thing that is common to thofe individuals, and
which therefore may be truly affirmed of them
all.

3. The author fays, '' It is certain that we
*' form the idea of individuals, whenever wc
*' ufe any general term. The word raifes up
*' an individual idea, and makes the imagina-
*' tion conceive it, with all its particular cir-
^' cumftances and proportions."

This fa6i: he takes a great deal of pains to ac-
count for, from the effect of cuflom.

But the fact fhould be afcertained before we
take pains to account for it. I can fee no rea-
fon to believe the fact ; and I think a farmer
can talk of his fheep, and his black cattle,
without conceiving, in his imagination one in-
dividual, with all its circumfcances and pro-
portions. If this be true, the whole of his
theory of general ideas falls to the ground.

To

i66 E S S A Y V.

C H A P.To me it appears, that when a general term is
^^- well underftood, it is only by accident if it
~^~ fuggeft fome individual of the kind ; but thi§
effe6: is by no means conftant.

I underftand perfectly what Mathematicians
call a line of the fifth order ; yet I never con-
ceived in my imagination any one of the kind
in all its circumllances and proportions. Sir
Isaac Newton hrfl formed a diftincl general
conception of lines of the third order ; and af-
terwards., by great labour and deep penetra-
tion found out and defcribed the particular
fpecies comprehended under that general term.
According to Mr. Hume's theory, he mufl
firil have been acquainted with the particulars,
and then have learned by cullom to apply one
general name to all of them.

The author obferves, " That the idea of an
*' equilateral triangle of an inch perpendicu-
" lar, may ferve us in talking of a figure, a
" rectilinear figure, a regular figure, a trian-
," gle, and an equilateral triangle."

I anfwer. The man that ufes thefe general
terms, either underflands their meaning, or
he does not. If he does not underftand their
meaning, all his talk about them will be found
only without fenfe, and the particular idea
mentioned cannot enable him to fpeak of
them with underftanding. If he underftands
the meaning of the general terms he will
find no ufe for the particular idea.

4. He tells us gravely, " That in a globe of
" white marble the figure and the colour
" are undiftinguiihable, and are in effed the
" fame.'* How foolifh have mankind been
to give different names, in all ages and in

all

OPINIONS ABOUT UNIVERSALS.

167

all languages, to things undiflinguifhable,^ HAP.
and in effect the fame ? Henceforth, in all ,^JfLj
books of fcience and of entertainment, we
may fubftitute figure for colour, and co-
lour for figure. By this we fhall make
numberlefs curious difcoveries without dan-
ger of error.

ESSAY

ESSAY VI.

OF JUDGMENT,
CHAP. I.

Of judgment in generaL

UD G IN G is an operation of the mind fo^
familiar to every m.an who hath under-
ftanding, and its name is fo common and fo
well underftood, that it needs no definition.

As it is impoffible by a definition to give a
notion of colour to a man who never favv co-
lours ; fo it is impoffible by any definition to
give a diftinct notion of judgment to a man
who has not often judged, and who is not ca-
pable of reflefting attentively upon this aft of
his mind. The befl ufe of a definition is to
prompt him to that refieciion ; and without it
the befl definition will be apt to miflead him.

The definition commonly given of judgment,
by the more ancient writers in logic, was,
that it is an aft of the mind, whereby one thing
is affirmed or denied of another. ' I believe this
is as good a definition of it as can be given.
Why 1 prefer it to fome later definitions, will
afterwards appear. Without pretending to
give any other, I fhall make two remarks upon
it, and then offer fome general obfervations on
this fubjeft.

I, It

OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. 169

1. It is true, that it is by affirmation or denial CHAP,
that we exprefs our judgments ; but there may ,
be judgment which is not expreffed. It is a
folitary act of the mind, and the expreffion of
it by affirmation or denial is not at all eifential
to it. It may be tacit, and not exprefTed,
Nay, it is well known that men may judga
contrary to what they affi.rm or deny ; the de-
finition therefore muil be underflood of mental
affirmation or denial, which indeed is only
another name for judgm.ent.

2. Affirmation and denial is very often the
expreffion of tcflimony, which is a different
a£l of the mind, and ought to be diftinguifhed
from judgment.

A JLidge afks of a witnefs what he knows of
fuch a matter to which he was an eye or ear
witnefs. He anfwers, by affirming or denying
fomething. But his anfwer does not exprefs
his judgment ; it is his teftimony. Again, I
afk a man his opinion in a matter of fcience or
of criticifm. His anfwer is not teftimony ; it
is the expreffion of his judgment.

Teftimony is a fecial aft, and it is effential
to it to be expreffed by words or figns. A tacit
teftimony is a contradidion : But there is no
<:ontradiction in a tacit judgment ; it is com-
plete without being expreffed.

Jn teftimony a man pledges his veracity for
what he affirms ; fo that a falfe teftimony is a
.lie: But a wro];g,j,ud^ment is not a lie; it is
only an error. ".., -;

I believe, in all languages teftimony and
judgment are expreffed by the fame form of
fpeech. A propofition affirmative or negative,
with a verb in what is called the indicative
mood, expreffes both. To diftinguilh them

by

I70 ESSAY VI.

C H A Pby the form of fpeech, it would be neceflary
that verbs fliould have two indicative moods,
*one for teftimony, and another to exprefs
judgment. I know not that this is found in
any language. And the reafon is, (not furcly
that the vulgar cannot diftinguifh the two, for
every man knows the difference between a lie
and an error of judgment), but that, from the
matter and circumftances, we can eafily fee
whether a man intends to give his teftimony,
or barely to exprefs his judgment.

Although men muft have judged in many
cafes before tribunals of juftice were erected,
yet it is very probable that there were tribunals
before men began to fpeculate about judgment,
and that the word may be borrowed from the
practice of tribunals. As a judge, after taking
the proper evidence, paifes fentcnce in a caufe,
and that fentence is called his judgment ; fo the
mind, with regard to whatever is true or falfe,
paifes fentence, or determines according to
the evidence that appears. Some kinds of evi-
dence leave no room for doubt* Sentence is
pafled immediately, without fecking or hear-
ing any contrary evidence, becaufe the thing
is certain and notorious. In other cafes, there
is room for weighing evidence on both fides
before fentence is pafled. The analogy be-
tv/een a tribunal of juftice and this inward tri-
bunal of the mind, is too obvious to efcape
the notice of any man who ever appeared be-
fore a judge. And it is probable, that the
word judgment, as well as many other words
we ufe in fpeaking of this operation of min(J,
are grounded on this analogy.

Having premifed thefe things, that it may
be clearly underftood what I mean by judg-
ment.

OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. 171

ment, I proceed to make fome general obferr CHAP,
vations concerning it. I-

ivVy?, Judgment is an a£l of the mind fpe-*
clfically different from fmiple apprehenfion, or
the bare conception of a thing. It would be
unneceffary to obferve this, if fome Philofo-
phers had not been led by their theories to a
contrary opinion.

Although there can be no judgnient without
a conception of the things about which we
judge; yet conception may be without any
judgment. Judgment can be expreffed by a
proportion only, and a proportion is a com-
plete fentence; but fimple apprehenfion may
be expreffed by a word or words, which make
no complete fentence. When fimple appre-
henfion is employed about a propofition, every
man knows that it is one thing to apprehend
a propofition, that is, to conceive what it
means; but it is quite another thing to judge
it to be true or falfe.

It is felf-evident, that every judgment mufl-
be either true or falfe; but fimple apprehen-
iion or conception can neither be true nor
falfe, as was fliewn before.

One judgment may be contradictory to an-
other; and it is impoffible for a man to have
two judgments at the fame time, which he
perceives to be contradictory. But contradic-
tory propofitions may be conceived at the fame
time without any difficulty. That the fun is
greater than the earth, and that the fun is not
greater than the earth, are contradidory pro-
pofitions. He that apprehends the meaning of
one, apprehends the meaning of both. But
it is impoffible for him to judge both to be true
at the fame time. He knows that if the one

is

172 ESSAY VI.

C H A P. is true, the other mufl be falfe. For thefe rea-
^' fons, i hold it to be certain, that judgment
and limple apprehenfion are adls of the mind
fpecifically different.

Secondly, There are notions or ideas that
ought to be referred to the faculty of judgment
as their fource; becaufe, if we had not that
faculty, they could not enter into our minds j
and to thofe that have that faculty, and are ca-
pable of reflecting upon its operations, they
are obvious and familiar.

Among thefe we may reckon the notion of
judgment itfelf ; the notions of a propofition,
of its fubject, predicate, and copula; of af-
fimation and negation, of true and falfe, of
knowledge, belief, difbelief, opinion, affent,
evidence. From no fource could we acquire
thefe notions, but from reflecting upon our
judgments. Relations of things make one
great clafs of our notions or ideas; and we
cannot have the idea of any relation without
fom.e exercife of judgment, as will appear af-
terwards.

Thirdly, In perfons come to years of under-
ftanding, judgment neceflarily accompanies all
fenfation, perception by the fenfes, confciouf-
nefs, and memory, but not conception.

I rellrift this to perfons come to the years
of underllanding, becaufe it may be a quefti-
cn, whether infants, in the firfl period of Hfe,
have any judgment or belief at alL The fame
queilion may be put with regard to brutes and
fome idiots. This quefl:ion is foreign to the
prefent fubjeCt; and I fay nothing here about
it, but fpeak only of perfons who have the ex-
ercife of judgment.

In

OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. i^S

In them it is evident, that a man who feels ^ HAP.
pain, judges and believes that he is really. _'
jpained. The man who perceives an object,
believes that it exifts, and is what he diftinftly
perceives it to be ; nor is it in his power to
avoid fuch judgment. And the like may be
faid of memory, and of confcioufnefs. Whe-
ther judgment ought to be called a neceifary
concomitant of thefe operations, or rather a
part or ingredient of them, I do not difpute;
but it is certain, that all of them are accom-
panied with a determination that fomething is
true or falfe, and a confequent belief. If this
determination be not judgment, it is an ope->
ration that has got no name; for it is not fim-»
pie apprehenfion, neither is it reafoning; it is
a mental affirmation or negation; it may be
expreffed by a proportion affirmative or nega-
tive, and it is accompanied with the firmed
belief. Thefe are the chara£teriftics of judg-
ment; and I muft call it judgment, till I can
find another name to it.

The judgments we form, are either of things
neceffary, or of things contingent. That
three times three are nine; that the whole is
greater than a part; are judgments about
things neceifary. Our affent to fuch neceffary
proportions is not grounded upon any opera-
tion of fenfe, of memory, or of confcioufnefs,
nor does it require their concurrence ; it is un-
accompanied by any other operation but that
of conception, which mufl accompany all
judgment; we may therefore call this judg-
ment of things neceffary pure judgment. Our
judgment of things contingent mufl: always
reft upon fome other operation of the mind, fuch
us fenfe, or memory, or confcioufnefs, or cre-
dit

174

ESSAY VI.

C H A P.dit In teflimony, which is itfelf grounded upon
^- fenfe.

That I now write upon a table covered with
green cloth, is a contingent event, which I
judge to be mod undoubtedly true. My judg-
ment is grounded upon my perception, and
is a neceflary concomitant or ingredient of my
perception. That I dined with fuch a compa-
ny yefterday, I judge to be true, becaufc I re-
member it; and my judgment neceflarily goes
along with this remembrance, or makes a part
of it.

There are many forms of fpeech in common
language which iliew that the fenfes, memory
and confcioufnefs, are confidered as judging
faculties. We fay that a man judges of co-
lours by his eye, of founds by his ear. We
fpeak of the evidence of fenfe, the evidence of
memory, the evidence of confcioufnefs. Evi-
dence is the ground of judgment, and when
we fee evidence, it is impoffible not to judge.

When we fpeak of feeing or remembering
any thing, we indeed hardly ever add that
we judge it to be true. But the reafon of this;
appears to be, that fuch an addition would be
mere fuperfluity of fpeech, becaufe every one
knows, that what I fee or remember, 1 mufl
judge to be true, and cannot do otherwife.

And for the fame reafon, m fpeaking of any
thing that is felf evident or flriftly demonflrat-
ed, we do not fay that we judge it to be true.
This would be fuperfluity of fpeech, becaufe
every man knows that we mufl judge that to
be true which we hold felf-evident or demon-
flrated.

When you fay you faw fuch a thing, or that
you diftindly remember it, or when you fay

of

OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. 175

of any propofitlon that it Is felf-evident, or C H A P,
ftridlly demonftrated, it would be ridiculous
after this to afk whether you judge it to be true ;
nor would it be lefs ridiculous in you to inform
us that you do. It would be a fuperfluity of
fpeech of the fame kind as if, not content with
faying that you faw fuch an objedl, you fliould
add that you faw it with your eyes.

There is therefore good reafon why, in
fpeaking or writing, judgment (hould not be
exprefsly mentioned, when all men know it to
be neceflarily implied; that is, when there can
be no doubt. In fuch cafes, we barely men-
tion the evidence. But when the evidence
mentioned leaves room for doubt, then, with-
out any fuperfluity or tautology, we fay we
judge the thing to be fo, becaufe this is not
implied in what was faid before. A woman
with child never fays, that, going fuch a jour-
ney, Ihe carried her child along with her. We
know that, while it is in her womb, fhe mufl
carry it along with her. There are fome ope-
rations of mind that may be faid to carry judg-
ment in their womb, and can no more leave it
behind them than the pregnant woman can
leave her child. Therefore, in fpeaking of
fuch operations, it is not exprelTed.

Perhaps this manner of fpeaking may have
led Philofophers into the opinion, that in per-
ception by the fenfes, in memory, and in con-
fcioufnefs, there is no judgment at all. Be-
caufe it is not mentioned in fpeaking of thefe
faculties, they conclude that it does not accom-
pany them ; that they are only different modes
of fimple apprehenfion, or of acquiring ideas j
and that it is no part of their office to judge.

I ap-

17^ ESSAY VI.

C HA P. I apprehend the fame caufe has led Mr. Locke
^^,,^^ into a notion of judgment which I take to be
peculiar to him. He thinks that the mind has
two faculties converfant about truth and falfe-
hood. Firjl^ knowledge ; and, fecondly, judg-
ment. In the firft, the perception of the agree-
ment or difagrecment of the ideas is certain;
In the fecond, it is not certain, but probable
only.

According to this notion of judgment, It is
not by judgment that I perceive that two and
three make five ; it is by the faculty of know-
ledge. I apprehend there can be no knowledge
without judgment, though there may be judg-
ment without that certainty which we common-
ly call knowledge.

Mr. Locke, in another place of his Eflayj
tells us, " That the notice w-e have by our
" fenfes of the exiflence of things without uSj
" though not altogether fo certain as our in-
*' tuitive knowledge, or the deduftions of our
" reafon about abilraQ: ideas^ yet is an affu-
" ranee that deferves the name of knowledge.'*
I think, by this account of it, and by his de-
finitions before given of knowledge and judg-
ment, it deferves as well the name of judgment.

That I may avoid difputes about the meaning
of words, I wifli the reader to underfland,
that I give the name of judgment to every de-
termination of the mind concerning what is
true or what is falfe. This, I think, is what
Logicians, from the days of Aristotle, have
called judgment. Whether it be called one
faculty, as I think it has always been, or whe-
ther a Philofopher chufes to fpht it into two,
feems not very material. And if it be granted,
that by our fenfes, our memory and confci-

Gufnefs,

OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. 177

oufnefs, we not only have ideas or fiinple ap-C
prehenfions, but form determinations concern-
ing what is true, and what is falfe: whether
thefe determinations ought to be called know-
ledge or judgment^ is of fmall moment.

The judgments grounded upon the evidence
of fenfe, of memory, and of confcioufnefs,
put all men upon a level. The Philofopher,
with regard to thefe, has no prerogative above
the illiterate, or even above the favage.

Their reliance upon the teftimony of thefe
faculties is as firm and as well grounded as his.
His fuperiority is in judgments of another kind ;
in judgments about things abflra£l and necef-
fary. And he is unwilling to give the name
of judgment to that wherein the mod ignorant
and unimproved of the fpecies are his equals.

But Philofophers have never been able to
give any definition of judgment which does not
apply to the determinations of our fenfes, our
memory, and confcioufnefs, nor any definition
of fimple apprehenfion which can comprehend
thofe determinations.

Our judgments of this kind are purely the
gift of Nature, nor do they admit of improve-
ment by culture. The memory of one man
may be more tenacious than that of another;
but both rely with equal affurance upon what
they diflinctly remember. One man's fight
may be more acute, or his feehng more deli-
cate than that of another ; but both give equal
credit to the difliind teftimony ot their fight
and touch.

And as we have this belief by the confti-
tution of our nature, without any effort of
our own, fo no effort of ours can overturn it.

Vol. II. N The

ESSAY VI.

The Sceptic may perhaps perfuade himfelf
in general, that he has no ground to believe
his fenfes or his memory: But, in particular
cafes that are interefting, his difbelief vaniflies,
and " he finds himfelf under a neceffity of be-
lieving both.

Thefe judgments may, in the fhri^left fenfe,
be called judgnmits of nature. Nature has
fubjeded us to them whether we will or not.
They are neither got, nor can they be loft by
any ufe or abufe of our faculties ; and it is evi-
dently neceflary for our prefervation that it
fliould be fo. For if belief in our fenfes and
in our memory were to be learned by culture,
the race of men would perifh before they learned
this leflbn. It is neceffary to all men for their
being and prefervation, and therefore is un-
conditionally given to all men by the Author
of Nature.

I acknowledge, that if we were to reft in
thofe judgments of Nature of which we now
fpeak, without building others upon them,
they would not entitle us to the denomination
of reafonable beings. But yet they ought not
to be defpifed, for they are the foundation upon
which the grand fuperftrufture of human
knowledge muft be raifed. And as in other
fuperftrudlures the foundation is commonly
overlooked, fo it has been in this. The more
fublime attainments of the human mind have
attradled the attention of Philofophers, while
they have beftowed but a carelefs glance upon
the humble foundation on which the whole fa-
bric reils.

A fourth obfervation is, that fome exercife
of judgment is neceflary in the formation of
all abftradt and general conceptions, whether

more

OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. 179

more fimple or more complex ; in dividing, C H A P.
in defining, and in general, in forming all ^•
clear and diftinft conceptions of things, which'"* * "^
are the only fit materials of reafoning.

Thefe operations are allied to each other,
and therefore I bring them under one obfer-
vation. They are more allied to our rational
nature than thofe mentioned in the laft obfer-
vation, and therefore are confidered by them-
felves.

That I may not be miftaken, it may be ob-
ferved, that I do not fay that abftrad: notions,
or other accurate notions of things, after they
have been formed, cannot be barely conceived
without any exercife of judgment about them,
I doubt not that they may : But what I fay, is,
that, in their formation in the mind at firft,
there muft be fome exercife of judgment.

It is impolTible to diftinguifh the different
attributes belonging to the fame fubjecl, with-
out judging that they are really different and
diflinguifhable, and that they have that relati-
on to the fubject which Logicians exprefs, by
faying that they may be predicated of it. We
cannot generalife, without judging that the
fame attribute does or may belong to many
individuals. It has been fhewn, that our fim-
plefl general notions are formed by thefe two
operations of diftinguifliing and generalifing ;
judgment therefore is exercifed in forming the
fimplefl general notions.

In thofe that are more complex, and which
have been fhewn to be formed by combining
the more fimple, there is another aft of the
judgment required ; for fuch combinations
are not made at random, but for an end ; and
judgment is employed in fitting them to that
N 2 end.

i8o ESSAY VI.

CHAP. end. We form complex general notions for
^- conveulency of arranging our thoughts in dif-

' " courfe and rcafoning ; and therefore, of an
infinite number of combinations that might be
formed, we chufe only thofe that are ufeful
and necelfary.

That judgment mud be employed in divid-
ing as well as in diftinguifliing, appears evi-
dent. It is one thing to divide a fubjeft pro-
perly, another to cut it in pieces. Hoc non eji
divider e^ fed f rangers rem^ faid Cicero, when
he cenfured an improper divifion of Epicurus.
Reafon has difcovered rules of divifion, which
have been known to Logicians more than two
thoufand years.

There are rules likewife of definition of no
lefs antiquity and authority. A man may no
doubt divide or define properly without at-
tending to the rules, or even without knowing
them. But this can only be, when he has
judgment to perceive that to be right in a par-
ticular cafe, v/hich the rule determines to be
right in all cafes.

I add in general, that, without fome degree
of judgment, we can form no accurate and
difiinct notions of things ; fo that, one pro-
vince of judgment is, to aid us in forming
clear and diftincl conceptions of things, which
are rhe only fit materials for reafoning.

'Lhis will probably appear to be a paradox
to Philofophers, who have always confidered
the formation of ideas of every kind as be-
longing to fimple apprehenfion ; and that the
fole province of judgment is to put them to-
gether in affirmative or negative propofitions j
and therefore it requires fome confirmation.

lirjl.

OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. i8i

Firjl^ I think it neceflarily follows, fromCHAP.
what has been already faid in this obfervation. ,/;_^
For if, without fonie degree of judgment, a
man can neither diftihguifh, nor divide, nor
define, nor form any general notion, fimple
or complex, he furely, without fome degree
of judgment, cannot have in his mind the ma-
terials neceffary to reafoning.

There cannot be any propofition in language
which does not involve fome general concep-
tion. The propofition, that I exijl^ which
Des Cartes thought the firfl of all truths, and
the foundation of all knowledge, cannot be
conceived without the conception of exiftence,
one of the moft abllrad: general conceptions.
A man cannot believe his own exiftence, or
the exiftence of any thing he fees or remem-
bers, until he has fo much judgment as to dif-
tinguifh things that really exifl from things
which are only conceived. He fees a man fix
feet high ; he conceives a man fixty feet high ;
he judges the firfl objett to exift, becaufe he
fees it ; the fecond he does not judge to exift,
becaufe he only conceives it. Now, I would
afk. Whether he can attribute exiftence to the
firfl: objeft, and not to the fecond, without
knowing what exiftence means ? It is impofTi-
ble.

How early the notion of exiftence enters in-
to the mind, I cannot determine ; but it muft
certainly be in the mind, as foon as we can
affirm of any thing, with underflanding, that
it exifts.

In every other propofition, the predicate at
leaft muft be a general notion ; a predicable
and an univerfal being one and the fame. Be-
fides this, every propofition either affirms or

denies.

i82 ESSAY VI.

CHAP, denies. And no man can have a diftindt con-
ception of a propofition, who does not under-
ftand diftindly the meaning of affirming or de-
nying : But thefe are very general concepti-
ons, and, as was before obferved, are derived
from judgment, as their fource and origin.

I am fenfible that a (Irong objection may be
made to this reafoning, and that it may feem
to lead to an abfurdity, or a contraditlion.
It may be faid, that every judgment is a men-
tal affirmation or negation. If therefore fome
previous exercife of judgment be necelTary to
underftand what is meant by affirmation or
negation, the exercife of judgment muft go
before any judgment, which is abfurd.

In like manner, every judgment may be ex-
prcfTed by a propofition, and a propofition muft
be conceived before we can judge of it. If
therefore we cannot conceive the meaning of a
propofition without a previous exercife of
judgment, it follows that judgment muft be
previous to the conception of any propolition,
and at the fame time that the conception of a
propofition muft be previous to all judgment,
which is a contradidion.

The reader may pleafe to obferve, that I
have limited what I have faid to diftinCl con-
ception, and fome degree of judgment ; and
it is by this means I hope to avoid this laby-
rinth of abfurdity and contradiction. The fa-
culties of conception and judgment have an
infancy and a maturity as man has. What I
have faid is limited to their mature ftate. I be-
lieve in their infant ftate they are very weak
and indiftincl ; and that, by imperceptible de-
grees, they grow to maturity, each giving aid
to the other, and receiving aid from it. But

which

OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. 183

which of them firfl began this friendly inter-^H AP.
courfe, is beyond my ability to determine. It
is like the queflion concerning the bird and the

egg-
In the prefent ftate of things, it is true that

every bird comes from an egg^ and every egg
from a bird ; and each may be faid to be pre-
vious to the other. But if we go back to the
origin of things, there muff have been fome
bird that did not come from any egg, or fome
egg that did not come from any bird.

In like manner, in the mature ftate of man,
diftincl conception of apropofitionfuppofes fome
previous exercife of judgment, and difhinfi:
judgment fuppofes diflind conception. Each
may truly be faid to come from the other, as
the bird from the egg, aud the egg from the
bird. But if we trace back this fucceflion to
its origin, that is, to the firfl propofition that
was ever conceived by the man, and the firfl
judgment he ever formed, I determine nothing
about them, nor do I know in what order, or
how they were produced, any more than how
the bones grow in the womb of her that is with
child.

The firfl exercife of thefe faculties of con-
ception and judgment is hid, like the fources
of the Nile, in an unknown region.

The neceffity of fome degree of judgment
to clear and diflin£l conceptions of things,
may, 1 think, be illuftrated by this fimihtude.

An artift, fuppofe a Carpenter, cannot
work in his art without tools, and thefe tools
mufl be made by art. The exercife of the art
therefore is neceffary to make the tools, and
the tools are neceffary to the exercife of the
art. There is the fame appearance of contra-

didion.

f

184 E S S A Y VI.

C H A P. diction, as in what I have advanced concerning
^^ the neceffity of fome degree of judgment, in
order to form clear and diflincl conceptions of
things. Thefe are the tools we mufl ufe in
judging and in reafoning, and without them
mufl make very bungling work ; yet thefe
tools cannot be made without fome exercife of
judgment.

The neceffity of fome degree of judgment in
forming accurate and diftinct notions of things
will farther appear, if we confider attentively
what notions we can form, without any aid of
judgment, of the objects of fenfe, of the ope-
rations of our own minds, or of the relations
of things.

To begin with the objefts ef fenfe. It is ac-
knowledged on all hands, that the firft notions
we have of fenfible objects are got by the ex-
ternal fenfes only, and probably before judg-
ment is brought forth ; but thefe firft notions
are neither fimple, nor are they accurate and
diftinft : They are grofs and indiftinft, and
like the chaos^ a rudis indigejiaque moles. Be-
fore we can have any diftinft notion of this
mafs, it muft be analyfcd ; the heterogeneous
parts muft be feparated in our conception, and
the fimple elements, w^hich before lay hid in
the common mafs, muft firft be diftinguiftied,
and then put together into one whole.

In this way it is that we form diftinct notions
even of the objects of fenfe; but this analyfis
and compofition, by habit, becomes fo eafy,
and is performed fo readily, that we are apt to
overlook it, and to impute the diftind notion
we have form.ed of the object to the fenfes
alone ; and this we are the more prone to do,
becaufe, when once we have diftinguiflied the

fenfible

OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. 185

fenfible qualities of the objed from one ano-C HAP.
ther, the fenfe gives teftimony to each of '
them.

You perceive, for inftance, an objed white,
round, and a foot in diameter : 1 grant that
you perceive all thefe attributes of the obje£t
by fenfe ; but if you had not been able to dif-
tinguifli the colour from the figure, and both
from the magnitude, your fenfes would only
have given you one complex and confufed no-
tion of all thefe mingled together.

A man who is able to fay with underftand-
ing, or to determine in his own mind, that
this objed is white, muft have diftinguifhed
v/hitenefs from other attributes. If he has not
made this diftinction, he does not underftand
what he fays.

Suppofe a cube of brafs to be prefented at
the fame time to a child of a year old and to a
man. The regularity of the figure will attradt
the attention of both. Both have the fenfes of
fight and of touch in equal perfedtion ; and
therefore, if any thing be difcovered in this
object by the man, which cannot be difcovered
by the child, it mufl be owing, not to the fen-
fes, but to fome other faculty which the child
has not yet attained.

Firjl^ then, the man can eafily diftinguifli
the body from the furface which terminates it ;
this the child cannot do. Secondly^ The man
can perceive, that this furface is made up of
fix planes of the fame figure and magnitude ;
the child cannot difcover this. Thirdly^ The
man perceives, that each of thefe planes has
four equal fides, and four equal angles ; and
that the oppofite fides of each plane, and the
oppofite planes are parallel.

It

i86 ESSAY VI.

P. It will furely be allowed, that a man of or-
dinary judgment may obferve all this in a cube
which he makes an objed of contemplation,
and takes time to confider ; that he may give
the name of a fquare, to a plane terminated by
four equal fides and four equal angles ; and
the name of a cube, to a folid terminated by
fix equal fquares ; all this is nothing elfe but
analyling the figure of the object prcfented to
his fenfes into its fimpleft elements, and again
compounding it of thofe elements.

By this analyfis and compofition, two effecls
are produced. Firji^ From the one complex
objedl which his fenfes prcfented, though one
of the mod fimple the fenfes can p relent, he
educes many fimple and diftind notions of
right hnes, angles, plain furface, fohd, equa-
lity, parallelifm ; notions which the child has
not yet faculties to attain. Secondly^ When
he confiders the cube as compounded of thefe
elements, put together in a certain order, he
has then, and not before, a diilincl; and fcien-
tific notion of a cube. The child neither con-
ceives thofe elements, nor in what order they
mull be put together, in order to make a
cube ; and therefore has no accurate notion of
a cube, which can make it a fubject of reafon-
ing.

Whence I think we may conclude, that the
notion which we have from the fenfes alone,
even of the fimpleft objects of fenfe, is indif-
tind and incapable of being either defcribed or
reafoned upon, until it is analyfed into its fim-
ple elements, and confidered as compounded
of thofe elements.

If we fhould apply this reafoning to more
complex objeds of fenfe, the conclufion would

be

OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. 187

be ftill more evident. A dog may be taught CHAP,
to turn a jack, but he can never be taught to
have a dhtinft notion of a jack. He fees eve-
ry part as well as a man ; but the relation of
the parts to one another, and to the whole, he
has not judgment to comprehend.

A dilLincl: notion of an obje£t, even of fenfe,
is never got in an iiiftant ; but the fenfe per-
forms its office in an inftant. Time is not re-
quired to fee it better, but to analyfe it, to
diftinguifh the different parts, and their relati-
on to one another, and to the whole.

Hence it is, that when any vehement pailion
or emotion hinders the cool application of
judgment, we get no diitinct notion of an ob-
je6t, even though the fenfe be long direfted
to it. A man who is put into a panic, by
thinking he fees a ghoft, may (tare at it long,
without having any diftinct notion of it ; it is
his underflanding, and not his fenfe that is
difturbed by his horror. If he can lay that
afide, judgment immediately enters upon its
office, and examines the length and breadth,
the colour, and figure, and difhance of the
objeft. Of thefe, while his panic lalled, he
had no diftind notion, though his eyes were
open all the time.

When the eye of fenfe is open, but that of
judgment fhut by a panic, or any violent emo-
tion that engrolfes the ipind, we fee things
confufedly, and probably much in the fame
manner that brutes and perfect idiots do, and
infants before the ufe of judgment.

There are therefore notions of the objefts
of fenfe which are grofs and indiftind ; and
there are others that are diftind and fcientific.

The

i88 ESSAY VI.

C H A P. The former may be got from the fenfes alone ;
but the latter cannot be obtained without fome
^^'^''^^'^ degree of judgment.

The clear and accurate notions which geo-
metry prefents to us of a point, a right line,
an angle, a fquare, a circle, of ratios dired:
and inverfe, and others of that kind, can find
no admittance into a mind that has not fome
degree of judgment. They are not properly
ideas of the fenfes, nor are they got by com-
pounding ideas of the fenfes ; but, by analy-
fmg the ideas or notions we get by the fenfes
into their fimplefl elements, and again combi-
ning thefe elements into various, accurate,
and elegant forms, which the fenfes never did
nor can exhibit.

Had Mr. Hume attended duly to this, it
ought to have prevented a very bold attempt,
which he has profecuted through fourteen pa-
ges of his Treatife of Human Nature, to prove
that geometry is founded upon ideas that are
not exact, and axioms that are not precifely
true.

A Mathematician might be tempted to
thinly, that the man who ferioufly undertakes
this has no great acquaintance with geome-
try ; but I apprehend it is to be imputed to
another caufe, to a zeal for his own fyftem.
"We fee that even men of genius may be
drawn into ftrange^ paradoxes, by an attach-
ment to a favourite idol of the underltanding,
when it demands fo coftly a facrihce.

We Proteftants think, that the devotees of
the Roman church pay no fmall tribute to her
authority, when they renounce their five
fenfes in obedience to her decrees. Mr. Hume's

devotion

OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. 189

devotion to his fyftem carries him even toCHAP.
trample upon mathematical uemouflration.

The fundamental articles of his lyitem are,
that all the perceptions of the human mind are
either imprcffions or ideas ; and that ideas are
only faint copies of impreffions. The idea of
a right hne, therefore, is only a faint copy of
fome line that has been feen, or felt by touch ;
and the faint copy cannot be more perfed than
the original. Now of fuch right lines, it is
evident, that the axioms of geometry are not
precifely true ; for two lines that are flraight
to our fight or touch may include a fpace, or
they may meet in more points than one. If
therefore we cannot form any notion of a
ftraight line more accurate than that which we
have from the fenfes of fight and touch, geo-
metry has no folid foundation. If, on the
other hand, the geometrical axioms are pre-
cifely true, the idea of a right line is not copied
from any impreffion of fight or touch, but
muft have a different origin, and a more per-
feft ftandard.

As the Geometrician, by reflecting only
upon the extenfion and figure of matter, forms
a fet of notions more accurate and fcientific
than any which the fenfes exhibit ; fo the na-
tural Philofopher, refleding upon other attri-
butes of matter, forms another fet, fuch as
thofe of denfity, quantity of matter, velocity,
momentum, fluidity, elafticity, centres of gra-
vity, and of ofcillation. Thefe notions are ac-
curate and fcientific ; but they cannot enter in-
to a mind that has not fome degree of judgment,
nor can we make them intelligible to children,
until they have fome ripenefs of underdanding.
In navigation, the notions of latitude, lon-
gitude, courfe, leeway, cannot be uiade intel-
ligible

I90 ESSAY VI.

CHAP. ligible to children ; and fo it is with regard to
the terms of every fcience, and of every art
about which we can reafon. They have had
their five fenfes as perfect as men, for years
before they are capable of diflinguifhing, com-
paring, and perceiving the relations of things,
fo as to be able to form fuch notions. They
acquire the intelledual powers by a flow pro-
grefs, and by imperceptible degrees, and by
means of them learn to form diftinct and ac-
curate notions of things, which the fenfes
could never have imparted.

Raving faid fo much of the notions we get
from the fenfes alone of the objeds of fenfe,
let us next confider what notions we can have
from confcioufnefs alone of the operations of
our minds.

Mr. Locke very properly calls confcioufnefs
an internal fenfe. It gives the like immediate
knowledge of things in the mind, that is, of
our own thoughts and feelings, as the fenfes
give us of things external. There is this differ-
ence, however, that an external object may
be at reft, and the fenfe may be employed
about it for fome time. But the objecls of
confcioufnefs are never at reft ; the ftream of
thought flows like a river, without ftopping a
moment ; the whole train of thought paffes in
fuccellion under the eye of confcioufnefs,
which is always employed about the prefent.
But is it confcioufnefs that analyfes complex
operations, diftinguilhes their different ingre-
dients, and combines them in diftind parcels
under general names ? This furely is not the
work of confcioufnefs, nor can it be performed
without refiedion, recolleding and judging of
what we were confcious of, and diftindly re-
member.

OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. 191

member. This refleclion does not appear in^ ^ -^ ^•
children. Of all the powers of the mind, it
feems to be of the lateft growth, whereas con- ^""^ ^
fcioufnefs is coeval with the earlieft.

Confcioufnefs, being a kind of internal fenfe,
can no more give us dillinct and accurate no-
tions of the operations of our minds, than the
external fenfes can give of external objeds.
Reflection upon the operations of our minds is
the fame kind of operation with that by which
we form diftincl notions of external objefts.
They differ not in their nature, but in this
only^ that one is employed about external,
and the other about internal objects ; and both
may, with equal propriety, be called re-
flexion.

Mr. Locke has refl:rided the word reflection
to that which is employed about the operations
of our minds, without any authority, as I
think, from cuitom, the arbiter of language :
For furely I may reflect upon what I have feen
or heard, as v/ell as upon what I have thought.
The word, in its proper and common meaning,
is equally applicable to objects of fenfe, and to
objects of confcioufnefs. He has likewife con-
founded reflection with confcioufnefs, and
feems not to have been aware that they are
different powers, and appear at very different
periods of life.

If that eminent Fhilofopher had been aware
of thefe miftakes about the meaning of the
word reflection, he would, I think, have feen,
that as it is by reflection upon the operations of
our own minds that we can form any difliind
and accurate notions of them, and not by con-
fcioufnefs without reflection ; fo it is by reflec-
tion upon the objects of fenfe, and not by the

fenfes

192 ESSAY Vr.

CHAP, fenfes without refleftion, that we can form dif-
J^ tin6; notions of them. Refledion upon any
thing, whether external or internal, makes it an
object of our intelledual powers, by which we
furvey it on all fides, and form fuch judg-
ments about it as appear to be juft and true.

1 propofed, in the third place, to confider
our notions of the relations of things : And
here I think, that, without judgment we can-
not have any notion of relations.

There are two ways in which we get the no-
tion of relations. The firft is, by comparing
the related objeds, when we have before had
the conception of both. By this comparifon,
we perceive the relation, either immediately,
or by a procefs of reafoning. That my foot is
longer than my finger, I perceive immedi-
ately; and that three is the half of fix. This
immediate perception is immediate and intui-
tive judgment. That the angles at the bafe of
an ifofceles triangle are equal, I perceive by a
procefs of reafoning, in which it will be ac-
knowledged there is judgment.

Another way in which we get the notion of
relations (which feems not to have occurred to
Mr. Locke) is, when, by attention to one of
the related objeds, we perceive or judge, that
it muft, from its nature, have a certain rela-
tion to fomething elfe, which before perhaps
we never thought of; and thus our attention to
one of the related objects produces the notion
of a correlate, and of a certain relation between
them.

Thus, when I attend to colour, figure,
weight, I cannot help judging thefe to be qua-
lities which cannot exift without a fubjed ;
that is, fomething which is coloured, figured,

heavy.

OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. 193

heavy. If I had not perceived fuch things to C H A P.
be qualities, I fliould never have had any no- ^•
tion of their fubjecl or of their relation to it.

By attending to the operations of thinking,
memory, reafoning, v/e perceive or judge,
that there mufl be fomething which thinks, re-
members, and reafons, which we call the
mind. When we attend to any change that
happens in Nature, judgment informs us,
that there mufl be a caufe of this change,
which had povv^er to produce it ; and thus we
get the notions of caufe and eft'ecl, and of the
relation between them. When we attend to
body, we perceive that it cannot exlft without
fp.ace ; hence we get the notion of fpace,
(which is neither an object of fenfe nor of con-
fcioufnefs), and of the relation which bodies
have to a certain portion of unhmited fpace, as
their place.

I apprehend therefore, that ail our notions of
relations may more properly be afcribed to
judgment as their fource and origin, than to
any other power of the mind. We mufl
firit perceive relations by our judgment, be-
fore we can conceive them without judging of
them ; as we mufl firfl perceive colours by
fight, before we can conceive them without fee-
ing them. I think Mr. Locke, when he comes
tofpeak of the ideas of relations, does not fay
that they are ideas of fenfation or refledllon,
but only that they terminate In and are
concerned about ideas of fenfation or re-
flexion.

The notions of unity and number are fa
abflracl, that it is ImpolTible they fhould enter
into the mind until it has fome degree of judg-

VoL. II. O ment.

194 ESSAY VI.

CHAP. ment. We fee with what difficulty, and how
,^^J^^ llowly, children learn to ufe, with underftand-
ing, the names even of fmall numbers, and
how they exult in this acquifition when they
have attained it. Every number is conceived
by the relation which it bears to unity, or to
known combinations of units ; and upon that
account, as well as on account of its abftraft
nature, all diftinft notions of it require fome
degree of judgment.

In its proper place, I fhall have occafion to
fliow, that judgment is an ingredient in all
determinations of tafte ; in all moral determi-
nations ; and in many of our paffions and af-
fe&ions. So that this operation, after we come
to have any exercife of judgment, mixes with
mod of the operations of our minds, and, in
analyfmg them., cannot be overlooked without
confufion and error.

CHAP.

OF COMMON SENSE. 195

CHAP.
CHAP. n. "•

Of Common Senfe,

TH E word fenfe, in common language,
feems to have a different meaning from,
that which it has in the writings of Philofo-
phers ; and thofe different meanings are apt
to be confounded, and to occafion embarraf-
ment and error.

Not to go back to ancient philofophy upon
this point, modern Philofophers confider fenfe
as a power that has nothing to do with judg-
ment. Senfe they confider as the power by
which we receive certain ideas or impreflions
from obje6ts ; and judgment as the power by
which we compare thofe ideas, and perceive
their neceffary agreements and difagreements.

The external fenfes give us the idea of co-
lour, figure, found, and other qualities of bo-
dy, primary or fecondary. Mr. Locke gave
the name of an internal fenfe to confcioufnefs,
becaufe by it we have the ideas of thought,
memory, reafoning, and other operations of
our own minds. Dr. Hutcheson of Glaf-
gow, conceiving that we have fimple and ori-
ginal ideas which cannot be imputed either to
the external fenfes, or to confcioufnefs, intro-
duced other internal fenfes ; fuch as the fenfe
of harmony, the fenfe of beauty, and the mo-
ral fenfe. Ancient Philofophers alfo fpake of
internal fenfes, of which memory was account-
ed one.

But all thefe fenfes, whether external or in-
ternal, have been reprefented by Philofophers,
as the means of furnifliing our minds with
O 2 ideas,

196 ESSAY VI.

C H A P, ideas, without including any kind of judg-

^^- ment. Dr. Hutcheson defines a fenfe to be

a determination of the mind to receive any idea

from the prefence of an objed independent on

our will.

*>' By this term (fenfe) Philofophers in ge-
" neral have denominated thofe faculties, in
" confequence of which we are liable to feel-
" ings relative to ourfelves only, and from
" which they have not pretended to draw any
" conclufions concerning the nature of things ;
'' whereas truth is not relative, but abfolute
" and real. Dr. Priestly's Exam, of Dr.
" Reid, 'bfc. page 123.

On the contrary, in common language,
fenfe always implies judgment. A man of
fenfe is a man of judgment. Good fenfe is
good judgment. Nonfenfe is what is evi-
dently contrary to right judgment. Common
fenfe is that degree of judgment which is com-
mon to men vidth whom we can converfe and
tranfadl bufmefs.

Seeing and hearing by Philofophers are cal-
led fenfes, becaufe we have ideas by them ;
by the vulgar they are called fenfes, becaufe
we judge by them. We judge of colours by
the eye : of founds by the ear ; of beauty and
deformity by tafte ; of right and wrong in
condud, by our moral fenfe or confcience.

Sometimes Philofophers, who reprefent it
as the fole province of fenfe to furnifli us with
ideas, fall unawares into the popular opinion,
that they are judging faculties. Thus Locke,
book. 4. chap. 11. " And of this, (that the
'• quality or accident of colour doth really ex-
" ill, and hath a being without me,) the grea-
" teft aifurance I can poffibly have, and to

*' which

OF COMMON SENSE. 197

" which my faculties can attain, is the tefli- CHAP.
*' mony of my eyes, which are the proper and ^^•
*' fole judges of this thing." ""^ ■" '

This popular meaning of the word jhifc is
not peculiar to the EngHfh language. The
correlponding words in Greek, Latin, and I
believe in all the European languages, have
the fame latitude. The Latin words fenfire^
fententia^ fenfa, fenfus, from the laft of which
the Englifh word fenfe is borrowed, exprefs
judgment or opinion, and are applied indiffe-
rently to objecis of external fenfe, of tafLe, of
morals, and of the underflanding.

I cannot pretend to affign the reafon why a
word, which is no term of art, which is fami-
liar in common converfation, (hould have fo
different a meaning in philofophical writings.
I fhall only obferve, that the philofophical
meaning correfponds perfectly with the account
which Mr. Locke and other modern Philofo-
phers give of judgment. For if the fole pro-
vince of the fenfe?, external and internal, be
to furniili the mind with the ideas about which
we judge and reafon, it feems to be a natural
confequence, that the fole province of judg-
ment (hould be to compare thofe ideas, and to
perceive their neceffary relations.

Thefe two opinions feem to be fo connected,
that one may have been the caufe of the other.
I apprehend, however, that if both be true,
there is no room left for any knowledge or
judgment, either of the real exiftence of con-
tingent things, or of their contingent relations.

To return to the popular meaning of the
word fenfe. I believe it would be much more
difficult to find good authors who never ufe it
in that meaning, than to find fuch as do.

We

198

ESSAY

VI.

CHAP. We mav take IMr. Pope as good authority
^^- for the meaning of an Englifh word. He ufes
^"^""^"^ it often, and in his Epiftle to the Earl of Bur-
lington, has made a little defcant upon it.

" Oft have you hinted to your brother Peer,
" A certain truth, which many buy too dear ;
" Something there is more needful than ex-

" pence,
" And fomething previous cv'n to tafte,- — ^'tis

" fenfe.
" Good fenfe, which only is the gift of Hea-

" ven;
" And though no fcience, fairly worth the

" fcven ;
*' A light, which in yourfelf you mull perceive,
" Jones and Le Notre have it not to give.

This inward light or fenfe is given by Heaven
to different perfons in different degrees. There
is a certain degree of it which is neceffary to
our being fubjecls of law and government, ca-
pable of managing our own affairs, and an-
fwerable for our conduct towards others : This
is called common fenfe, becaufe it is common
to all m.en with whom we can tranfact bufmefs,
or call to account for their conduct.

The laws of all civilifed nations diftinguifh
thofe v. ho have this gift of Heaven, from thofe
who have it not. The lafl miay have rights
which ought not to be violated, but having no
undeiflanding in themfelves to direct their ac-
tions, the laws appoint them to be guided by
the underftanding of others. It is eafilv dif-
cerned by its effects in mens actions, in their
fpeeches, and even in their looks j and when

ir

OF COMMON SENSE. 199

it Is made a queflion. whether a man has thIsC H A P.
natural gift or not, a judge or a jury, upon a ,_^..^
fhort converfation with him, can, for the mod
part, determine the queflion with great aflu-
rance.

The fame degree of underftanding which
makes a man capable of ading with common
prudence in the conduct of Hfe, makes him
capable of difcovering what is true and what
is falfe in matters that are felf-evident, and
which he diftindly apprehends.

All knowledge, and all fcience, mufl be built
upon principles that are felf-evident; and of
fuch principles, every man who has common
fenfe is a competent judge, when he conceives
them diftinclly. Hence it is, that difputes
very often terminate in an appeal to common
fenfe.

While the parties agree in the firft principles
on which their arguments are grounded, there
is room for reafoning; but when one denies
what to the other appears too evident to need,
or to admit of proof, reafoning feems to be at
an end ; an appeal is made to common fenfe,
and each party is left to enjoy his own opinion.

There feems to be no remedy for this, nor
any way left to difcufs fuch appeals, unlefs the
decifions of common fenfe can be brought into
a code, in which all reafonable men Ihall ac-
quiefce. This indeed, if it be poffible, would
be very defirable, and would fupply a defide-
ratum in logic ; and why (liauld it be thought
impoffible that reafonable men fhould agree in
things that are felf-evident?

All that is intended in this chapter, is to ex-
plain the meaning of common fenfe, that it

may

200

ESSAY VI.

C H A P.may not be treated, as It has been by fome,
as a new principle, or as a word without any
"~^ meamng. I have endeavoured to fhew, that
fenie, in its mofl: common, and therefore its
moil proper meaning, fignlfies judgment,
though Philofophers often ufe It in another
meaning. From this it is natural to think,
that common fenfe fliould mean common judg-
ment; and fo it really does.

What the preclfe limits are which divide com-
mon judgment from what Is beyond it on the
one hand, and from what falls Ihort of it on
the other, may be difficult to determine; and
men may agree In the meaning of the word
who have different opinions about thofe limits,
or who even never thought of fixing them.
This is as intelligible as, that all Engllflimen
fhould mean the fame thing by the county of
York, though perhaps not a hundredth part
of them can point out Its preclfe limits.

Indeed, It feems to me, that common fenfe
is as unambiguous a word, and as well under-
ftood as the county of York. We find it in
innumerable places in good writers; we hear
it on innumerable occafions in converfation;
and, as far as I am isble to judge, always in
the fame meaning. And this Is probably the
reafon why it is fo feldom defined or explained.

Dr. Johnson, in the auihorlttes he gives,
to {hew that the word fenfe fignlfies underltand-
ing, foundnefs of faculties, firength of natu-
ral reafon, quotes Dr. Bentley for what may
be called a definition of com.mon fenfe, though
probably net intended for that purpofe, but
mentioned acQidentally: " God hath endowed
" mankind with power and abilities, which w^e

" call

OF COMMON SENSE. 201

** call natural light and reafon, and common C II A P.
" fenfe." ^ . "•

It is true, that common fenfe is a popular,
and not a fcholaflic word ; and by moft of thofe
who have treated fyflematically of the powers
of the underlianding, it is only occafionally
mentioned, as it is by other writers. But I re-
coiled two philofophical writers, who are ex-
ceptions to this remark. One is Buffier,
who treated largely of common fenfe, as
a principle of knowledge, above fifty years
ago. The other is Bifliop Berkeley, who,
I think, has laid as much ftrefs upon common
fenfe, in oppofition to the doctrines of Philo-
fophers, as any Philofopher that has come after
him. If the reader chufes to look back to
PZffay II. chap. io.~ he will be fatisfied of this,
from the quotations there made for another
purpofe, which it is unnecelfary here to re-
peat.

Men rarely afk what common fenfe is ; be-
caufe every man believes himfelf poffeiTcd of
it, and would take it for an imputation upon
his underftanding to be thought unacquainted
with it. Yet I remember two very eminent
authors who have put this queflion; and it is
not improper to hear their fentiments upon a
fubjed: fo frequently mentioned, and fo rarely
canvalfed.

It is well known, that Lord Shaftesbury
gave to one of his Treatifes the title of Senfus
Communis; an EJJay on the freedom of wit and
humour^ in a letter to a friend; in which he
puts his friend in mind of a free converfation
with fome of their friends on the fubjeds of
morality and religion, i^midfl the different
opinions darted and maintained with great

life

ii
(«

202 E S S A Y VI.

C H A F life and ingenuity, one or other "would every
^ ■ now and then take the liberty to appeal to com-
^ ^ rnon fenfe. F very one allowed the appeal ; no
one would offer to call the authority of the
court in queflion, till a gentleman, whofe
good underftanding was never, yet brought in
doubt, defired the company very gravely that
they would tell him what common lenfe was.
If, faid he, by the word fefife, we were to
underftand opinion and judgment and by
the word common^ the generality, or any
confiderable part of niankind, it would be
" hard to difcover where the fubjecl of com-
" men lenfe could lie ; for that which w^as ac-
" cording to ihe fenfe of one part of mankind,
*' was againfl the fenfe of another : And if
" the majority were to determine common
'' fenfe, it would change as often as men
'* changed. That in religion, common fenfe
" was as hard to determine as catholic ox ortho-
" dox. W hat to one was abfurdity, to ano-
" ther was demonftration.

" In policy, if plain Britifh or Dutch fenfe
" were right, Turkiih and French muft cer-
tainly be wrong. And as mere nonfenfe,
as paffive obedienccr feemed, w^e found it to
" be the common fenfe of a great party
" amongft ourfelves, a greater party in Europe,
^' and perhaps the greateft part of all the
" world befides. As for morals, the differ-
*' ence was flill wider ; for even the Philofo-
*' phers cculd never agree in one and the fame
" fyilem. And fome even of our mofl admi-
" red modern Philofophers had fairly told us,
''' that virtue and vice had no other law or
meafure than mere falhion and vogue."

This

€(

OF COMMON SENSE. 203

This is the fubftance of the genrleman's - H A P
fpeech, which, I apprehenc], explains the
meaning of the word perfectly, and contains ^■'^•'
all that has been faid, or can be faid againit
the authority of common fenfe, and the pro-
priety of appeals to it.

As there is no mention of any anfwer imme-
diately to this fpeech, we might be apt to con-
clude, that the noble author adopted the fen-
timents of the intelligent gentleman, whofe
fpeech he recites. But the contrary is manifed,
from the title of Senfus Coiiununis given to his
EiTay, from his frequent ufe of the word, and
from the whole tenor of the Efl'ay.

The author appears to have a double inten-
tion in that Effay, correfponding to the double
title prefixed to it. One intention is, tojuftify
the ufe of wit, humour, and ridicule, in dif-
cufling among friends the graved fubjeds.
" I can very well fuppofe, fays he, men may
*' be frighted out of their wits ; but I have no
" apprehenfion they ihould be laughed out of
" them. I can hardly imagine, that, in a
" pleafant way, they fliould ever be talked out
" of their love for fociety, or reafoned out of
" humanity and common fenfe."

The other intention fignified by the title
Senfus Co?nmunis, is carried on hand in hand
with the firft, and is to fhew, that common
fenfe is not fo vague and uncertain a thing as
it is reprcfented to be in the fceptical fpeech
before recited. "I will try," fays he, " what
" certain knowledge or alfurance of things
" may be recovered in that very way, (to wit,
'' of humour,) by which all certainty, you
" thought, was loft, and an endlefs fcepticifm
^' introduced."

He

204

ESSAY

VI.

P- He gives fome criticifms upon the vjoxd/en-
fus communis in Juvenal, Horace, and Se-
neca ; and after fliewing, in a facetious way
throughout the Treatife, that the fundamental
principles of morals, of poHtics, of criticifm,
and of every branch of knowledge, are the
dictates of common fenfe, he fums up the
whole in thefe words : " That fome moral and
philofophical truths there are fo evident in
themfelves^ that it would be eafier to ima-
gine half mankind run mad, and joined pre-
cifely in the fame fpecies of folly, than to
admit any thing as truth, which fhould be
advanced againll fuch natural knowledge,
fundamental reafon, and common fenfe.'*
And, on taking leave, he adds : " And now,
my friend, fliould you find 1 had moralifed
in any tolerable manner, according to com-
mon fenfe, and without canting, I fhould
be fatisfied with my performance.'*
Another eminent writer who has put the
quefhion what common fenfe is, is Fenelon,
the famous Archbilhop of Cambray.

That ingenious and pious author, having
had an early prepofTeffion in favour of the Car-
tefian philofophy, made an attempt to eftablifh,
on a fure foundation, the metaphylical argu-
ments which Des Cartes had invented to
prove the being of the Deity. For this pur-
pofe, he begins with the Cartefian doubt. He
proceeds to find out the truth of his own exift-
ence, and then to examine wherein the evi-
dence and certainty of this and other fuch pri-
mary truths confiiled. This, according to
Cartefian principles, he places in the clearnefs
^nd diHintlnefs of the ideas. On the contrary,

he

OF COMMON SENSE. 205

he places the abfurdity of the contrary propo-^ HAP.
fitions, in their being repugnant to his clear ^
and diftindl ideas.

To illuftrate this, he gives various examples
of queftions manifeftly abfurd and ridiculous,
which every man of common underflanding
would at firil fight perceive to be io, and then
goes on to this purpofe.

" What is it that makes thefe queftions ri-
" diculous ? Wherein does this ridicule pre-
" cifely confift ? It will perhaps be rephed,
" that it confiits in this, that they ihock com-
" mon fenfe. But what is the fame common
" fenfe ? It is not the firft notions that all
" men have equally of the fame things. This
" common fenfe, which is always and in all
" places the fame ; which prevents enquiry ;
" which makes enquiry in fome cafes ridicu-
" lous ; which, inftead of enquiring, makes a
" man laugh whether he will or not ; which
" puts it out of a man's power to doubt ; this
" fenfe, which only waits to be confulted ;
" which fhows icfelf at the firft glance, and
*' immediately difcovers the evidence or the
*' abfurdity of a queftion ; is not this the fame
" that I call my ideas ?

" Behold then thofe ideas or general no-
*' tions which it is not in my power either to
" contradid or examine, and by which I
" examine and decide in every cafe, infomuch
" that I laugh inftead of anfwering, as often
" as any thing is propofed to me, which is
" evidently contrary to what thefe immutable
" ideas reprefent."

I ftiall only obferve upon this paflage, that
the interpretation it gives of Des Cartes cri-
terion

aoG ESSAY VL

C H A P.tenon of truth, whether jufl or not, is the
^^- moft intelligible and the moft favourable I
have met with.

I beg leave to mention one paflage from
Cicero, and to add two or three from late
writers, which fliov/ that this word is not be-
come obfolete, nor has changed its meaning.

De Oratore, lib. 3. " Omnes enim tacito
" quodam fenfu, fine ulla arte aut ratione,
" in artibus ac rationibus, recta ac prava
" dijudicant. Idque cum faciant in piciuris,
et in fignis, et in aliis operibus, ad quorum
intclligentiam a natura minus habent in-
ftrum.enti, turn multo oftendunt magis in
verborum, numerorum, vocumque judi-
*' cio ; quod ea fmt in communibus infixa
" fenfibus ; neque earura rerum quemquam
" funditus natura voluit expertem.'*

Hume's EfTays and Treatifes, vol. i. p. 5.
*• But a Philofopher who propofes only to re-
" prefent the common fenfe of mankind in
" more beautiful and more engaging colours,
*' if by accident he commits a mift ake, goes
" no farther, but renewing his appeal to com-
" mon fenfe, and the natural fentiments of
*' the mind, returns into the right path, and
" fecures himfelf from any dangerous illu-
" fion.

Hume's Enquiry concerning the Principles
of Morals, p. 2. " Thofe who have refufed
" the reality of moral difliniftions may be
" ranked among the difmgenuous difputants.
" The only way of converting an antagonifl
" of this kind is to leave him to himfelf: For,
" finding that nobody keeps up the controver-
" fy with him, 'tis probable he will at laft, of

" himfelf.

OF COMMON SENSE. 207

" himfelf, from mere wearinefs, come overCHAP.
" to the fide of common fenfe and reafon." ^^^

Priestly's Inftitutes, Prelim. EiTay, vol. ^""^^"^
I. p. 27. " Becaufe common fenfe is a fuf-
" ficient guard againfl many errors in religion,
" it feems to have been taken for granted,
" that that common fenfe is a fufficient inftruc-
" tor alfo, whereas in faft, without pofitive in-
" ftru£tion, men would naturally have been
" mere favages with refpeft to religion; as,
" without fimilar inftrudion, they would be
*' favages with refpe^l to the arts of life and
" the fciences. Common fenfe can only be
" compared to a judge; but what can a judge
" do without evidence and proper materials
" from which to form a judgment?

Priestly's Examination of Dr. Reid, hfc.
page 127. " But fhouldwe, out of complai-
" fance, admit that what has hitherto been
*' called judgment may be called fenfe, it is
*' making too free with the eftablifhed figni-
" fication of words to call it common fenfe,
*' which, in common acceptation, has long
*' been appropriated to a very different thing,

B*' •viz. To that capacity for judging of com-
*' mon things that perfons of middling capa-
*' cities are capable of." Page 1:9. "I fliould
" therefore exped, that if a man was fo totally
*' deprived of common fenfe as not to be able
" to diftinguifli truth from falfehood in one
" cafe, he would be equally incapable of dif-
** tinguifhing it in another."

From this cloud of teftimonies, to which
hundreds might be added, I apprehend, that
whatever cenfure is thrown upon thofe who
have fpoke of common fenfe as a principle of

know-

2oS ESSAY VI.

^ ^r^ ^' I^-Howledge, or who have appeald to it In mat-
^^:^^ ters that are felf-evident, will fall light, when
there are fo many to fhare in it. Indeed, the
authority of this tribunal is too Hicred and ve-
nerable, and has prefcription too long in its
favour to be now -ucifely called in queftion.
Thofe who are difpofed to do fo, may rem.em-
ber the fhrewd faying oi, Mr. Hobbes,
" When reafon is againft a man, a man \\\\\
" be againil reafon." This is equally appU-
cable to common fenfe.

From the account I have given of the mean-
ing of this term, it is eafy to judge both of
the proper ufe and of the abufe of it.

It is abfurd to conceive that there can be any
oppofition between reafon and common fenfe.
It is indeed the firfl-born of reafon, and as
they are commonly joined together in fpeech
and in writing, they are infeparable in their
nature.

AVe afcribe to reafon two offices, or two de-
grees. The firft is to judge of things felf-
evident ; the fecond to ilraw conclufions that
are not felf-evident from thofe that are. The
liid of thefe is the province, and the fole pro-
vince of common fenfe; and therefore it coin-
cides with reafon in its whole extent, and is
only another name for one branch or one de-
gree of reafon. Perhaps it may be faid, Why
then ihould you give it a particular name, fmce
it is acknov.'ledged to be only a degree of rea-
fon? It would be a fufficient anfwer to this.
Why do you aboiifh a name which is to be
found in the language of all civilized nations,
and has acquired a right by prefcription ? Such
an attempt is equally foolifli and ineffectual.
Lvcry wile nian will be apt to think, that a

name

OF COMMON SENSE. 209

name which is found in all languacjes as farCHAP.
back as we can trace them, is not without ^^■
fome ufe. ^

But there is an obvious reafon why this de-
gree of reafon fliould have a name appropri-
ated to it; and that is, that in the greateil
part of mankind no other degree of reafon is
to be found. Jt is this degree that entitles
them to the denomination of reafonable crea-
tures. It is this degree of reafon, and this
only, that makes a man capable of managing
his own affairs, and anfwerable for his conduct
towards others. There is therefore the bed
reafon why it fhould have a name appropriated
to it.

Thefe two degrees of reafon differ in other
refpecls, which would be fufficient to entitle
them to diftinct names.

The firft is purely the gift of Heaven. And
where Heaven has not given it, no education
can fupply the want. The fecond is learned
by practice and rules, when the firft is not
wanting. A man who has common fenfe may
be taught to reafon. But if he has not that
gift, no teaching will make him able either
to judge of firfl principles or to reafon from
them.

I have only this farther to obferve, that the
province of common fenfe is more extenfive
in refutation than in confirmation. A con-
clufion dravk^n by a train of juft reafoning from
true principles cannot poffibly contradici: any
decifion of common fenfe, becaufe truth will
always be confiftent with itfelf. Neither can
fuch a conclufion receive any confirmation
from common fenfe, becaufe it is not within its
jurifdidion.

Vol. II. P But

2IO ESSAY VI.

But it is poflible, that, by fetting out from
falfe principles, or by an error in reafoning, a
man may be led to a conclufion that contra-
dids the decifions of common fenfe. In this
cafe, the conclufion is within the jurifdidion
of common fenfe, though the reafoning on
which it was grounded be not; and a man of
common fenfe m.ay fairly reject the conclufion,
without being able to fhew the error of the
reafoning that led to it.

Thus, if a Mathematician, by a procefs of
intricate demonftration, in which fome falfe
ftep was made, fhould be brought to this con-
clufion, that two quantities, which are both
equal to a third, are not equal to each other,
a man of common fenfe, without pretending
to be a judge of the demonftration, is well en-
titled to rejecl: the conclufion, and to pronounce
it abfurd.

CHAP.

SENTIMENTS concerning JUDGMENT. 211

CHAP.
III.

CHAP. III. ' — ^"^

Sentiments of Philofophers concerning Judgment.

A DIFFERENCE about the meaning of
JTx^ ^ word ought not to occafion difputes
among Philofophers : But it is often very pro-
per to take notice of fuch differences, in order
to prevent verbal difputes. There are, indeed,
no words in language more liable to ambiguity
than thofe by which we exprefs the operations
of the mind ; and the mod candid and judici-
ous may fometimes be led into difierent opini-
ons about their precife meaning.

I hinted before what I take to be a peculiarity
in Mr. Locke with regard to the meaning of
the word judgment, and mentioned what I ap-
prehend may have led him into it. But let us
hearhimfelf; Eflay, book 4. chap. 14. " The
" faculty which God has given to man to fup-
" ply the want of clear and certain knowledge,
" where that cannot be had, is judgment;
" whereby the m.ind takes its ideas to agree
" ordifagree; or, which is the fame, any pro-
'^ pofition to be true or falfe, without perceiv-
" ing a demonftrative evidence in the proofs.
" Thus the mind has two faculties, converfant
" about truth and falfehood. Firji, Know-
" ledge, whereby it certainly perceives, and
" is undoubtedly fatisfied of the agreement •
" or difagreement of any ideas. Secondly,
" Judgment, which is the putting ideas to-
" gether, or feparating them from one another

" in the mijid, when their certain agreement
P 2 " or

212

ESSAY

VI.

C H A P:" or difagreement is not perceived, but pre-
"^- " fumed to be fo."

' "* Knowledge, I think, fometimes fignifies
things known ; fometimes that acl of the mind
by which we know them. And in Hke man-
ner opinion fometimes fignifies things believed ;
fometimes the acb of the mind by v^hich webe-
Heve them. But judgment is the faculty
which is exercifed in both thefe a£l:s of the
mind. In knowledge, we judge without
doubting ; in opinion, with fome mixture of
doubt. But I know no authority, befides
that of Mr. Locke, for calling knowledge a;
faculty, any more than for calling opinion a
faculty.

Neither do I think that knowledge is confi-
ned vi'ithin the narrow limits which Mr. Locke
affigns to it ; becaufe the far greateft part of
what all men call human knowledge, is in
things which neither admit of intuitive nor of
demonftrative proof.

I have all along ufed the word judgment in a
more extended fenfe than Mr. Locke does in:
the pafiage above mentioned. I underftand by
it that operation of the mind, by which, we de-
termine, concerning any thing that may be
exprefled by a propofition, v/hether it be true
or falfe. Every propofition is either true or
falfe ; fo is every judgment. A propofition
may be fimply conceived without judging of it.
But when there is not only a conception of the
propofition, but a mental affirmation or nega-
tion, an alTent or diflent of the underftanding,
whether weak or ilrong, that is judgment.

I think, that fince the days of xAristotle,
Logicians have taken the word in that fenfe,
and other writers, for the mofl part, though

there

SENTIMENTS concerning JUDGMENT. 213

there are other meanings, which there is noC HA P.
danger of confounding with this. ^,J.!L^

We may take the authority of Dr. Isaac
Watts, as a Logician, as a man who under-
ftood EngHfii, and who had a juft efleem of
Mr. Locke's Effay. Logic. Introd. page 5.
" Judgment is that operation of the mind,
" wherein we join two or more ideas together
** by one affirmation or negation ; that is, we
" either affirm or deny ibis to be tbnt. So
" this tree is high ; that borfe is not fwift ; the
" mind of man is a thinking being ; mere matter
" has no thought belonging to it ; God is juft ;
" good men are often mif enable in this world ; a
" righteous governor will make a difference be-
*' twixt the evil and the good ; which fentences
" are the effisd: of judgment, and are called
*' propofitions." And part 2. chap. 2. feci. 9.
" The evidence of fenfe is, when we frame a
" propofition according to the dictate of any
" of our fenfes. So we judge, that grafs is
" green ; that a trumpet gives a pie af ant found ;
" that fire burns wood ; %vater is foft ; and
" iron hard.*''

In this meaning, judgment extends to every
kind of evidence, probable or certain, and to
every degree of affent or difient. It extends to
all knowledge as well as to ail opinion ; with
this difference only, that in knowledge it is
more firm and fteady, like a houfe founded
upon a rock. In opinion it flands upon a
weaker foundation, and is more liable to be
iliaken and overturned.

Thefe differences about the meaning of
words are not mentioned as if truth was on one
fide, and error on the other, but as an apolo-
gy for deviating in this inftance from the phra-

feology

214 ESSAY VI.

i«

C H A P.feology of Mr. Locke, which is for the mod
part accurate and diftinft ; and becaufq atten-
tion to the different meanings that are put up-
on words by different authors is the beft way
to prevent our miflaking verbal differences for
real differences of opinion.

The common theory concerning ideas natu-
rally leads to a theory concerning judgment,
which may be a proper teft of its truth ; for as
they are neceffarily connected, they muff ftand
or fall together : Their connection is thus ex-
preffed by Mr. Locke, book 4. chap. i.
" Since the mind, in all its thoughts and rea-
" fonings, hath no other immediate objeft
" but its own ideas, which it alone does, or
" can contemplate, it is evident that our
" knowledge is only converfant about them.
" Knowledge then ieems to me to be nothing
" but the perception of the connexion, and agree-
" ment or difagreement and repugnancy of any
" of our ideas. In this alone it confifis.^'

There can only be one objedion to the juf-
tice of this inference ; and that is, that the an-
tecedent proportion from which it is inferred,
feems to have fome ambiguity : For, in the
firft claufe of that propofition, the mind is
faid to have no other immediate object but its
own ideas ; in the fecond, that it has no other
object at all j that it does or can contemplate
ideas alone.

If the word immediate in the lirfl claufe be a
mere expletive, and be not intended to limit
the generality of the propofition, then the two
claufes will be perfectly confident, the fecond
being only a repetition or explication of the
firft ; and the inference that our knowledge is
only converfant about ideas, will be perfectly
juft and logical.

But

SENTIMENTS concerning JUDG:>IENT. 215

But if the word immediate in the firfl claufe CHAP,
be intended to limit the general propofition,
and to imply, that the mind has other cbjcds
befides its own ideas, though no other imme-
diate objeds ; then it will not be true that it
does or can contemplate ideas alone j nor will
the inference be juflly drawn, that our know-
ledge is only converfant about ideas.

Mr. Locke muft either have meant his an-
tecedent propofition, without any limitation
by the word immediate^ or he muft have meant
to limit it by that word, and to fignify that
there are objedls of the mind which are not
ideas.

The firfl of thefe fuppofitions appears to me
mofl probable, for feveral reafons.

Firji^ Becaufe, when he purpofely defines
the word idea^ in the introdudion to the EiTay,
he fays it is whatfoever is the object of the un-
derftanding when a man thinks ; or whatever
the mind can be employed about in thinking.
Here there is no room l^ft for objects of the
mind that are not ideas. The fame definition
is often repeated throughout the Effky. Some-
times, indeed, the word immediate is added,
as in the palTage now under confideration ; but
there is no intimation made that it ought to be
underftood when it is not exprefled. Now if
it had really been his opinion, that there are
objects of thought which are not ideas, this
definition, which is the ground work of the
whole Effay, would have been very improper,
and apt to miflead his reader.

Secondly, He has never attempted to fliow
how there can be obje£ts of thought, which
are not immediate objects ; and indeed this
feems impoihble. For whatever the obje£t be,

the

ii6 ESSAY VI.

CH A P. the man either thinks of it, or he does not.
I^^- There is no medium between thefe. It he
thinks of it, it is an immediate object of
thought while he thinks of it. If he does not
think of it, it is no objecl of thought at alh
Every object of thought, therefore, is an im-
mediate objecl of thought, and the word inune-
diatc^ joined to objects of thought, feems to be
a mere expletive.

Thirdly^ Though Malebranche and Bi-
fhop Berkeley beheved, that we have no
ideas of minds, or of the operations of minds,
and that we may think and reafon about them
without ideas, this was not the opinion of Mr.
Locke. He thought that there are ideas of
minds, and of their operations, as well as of
the objects of fenfe ; that the mind perceives
nothing but its own ideas, and that all words
are the figns of ideas.

A fourth reafon is. That to fuppofe that he
intended to limit the antecedent propofition by
the word i?n?uediate, is to impute to him a
blunder in reafoning, which I do not think
Mr. Locke could have committed : for what
can be a more glaring paralogifm than to infer,
that fince ideas are partly, though not folely,
the objects of thought, it is evident that all our
knowledge is only converfant about them. If,
on the contrary, he meant that ideas are the
only objeds of thought, then the conclufion
drawn is perfectly juil and obvious ; and he
might very well fay, that fmce it is ideas only
that the mind does or can contemplate^ it is evi-
dent that our knoivledge is only converfant about
them.

As to the conclufion itfelf, I have only to
obferve, that though he extends it only to

what

SENTIMENTS concerning JUDGMENT. 217

what he calls knowledge, and not to what heC H A P^,
calls judgment, there is the fame reafon for ^^^•
extending it to both. *'*^

It is true of judgment, as well as of know-
ledge, that it can only be converfant about ob-
jects of the mind, or about things which the
mind can contemplate. Judgment, as well as
knowledge, fuppofes the conception of the ob-
ject about which we judge ; and to judge of
objects that never were nor can be objefts of
the mind, is evidently impoffible.

This therefore we may take for granted,
that if knowledge be converfant about ideas
only, becaufe there is no other object of the
mind, it muft be no lefs certain, that judg-
ment is converfant about ideas only, for the
fame reafon.

Mr. Locke adds, as the refult of his rea-
foning. Knowledge then feems to me to be
nothing but the perception of the connettion
and agreement, or difagreement and repug-
nancy, of any of our ideas. In this alone it
confifts.

This is a very important point, not only on
its own account, but on account of its necef-
fary connection with his fyflem concerning
ideas, which is fuch, as that both muft ft and
or fall together ; for if there is any part of
human knowledge which does not confift in
the perception of the agreement or difagree-
ment of ideas, it muft "follow, that there are
objeds of thought and of contemplation which
are not ideas.

This point, therefore, deferves to be care-
fully examined. With this view, let us firft
attend to its meaning, which I think can hard-

ly

2 E S S A Y VI.

C H A P.ly be miflaken, though it may need fome ex-
^^I- plication.

Every point of knowledge, and every judg-
ment, is exprcfled by a propofition, wherein
fomething is affirmed or denied of the fubjedt
of the propofition.

By perceiving the conne6tion or agreement
of two ideas, I conceive is meant perceiving
the truth of an affirmative propofition, of
which the fubject and predicate are ideas. In
like manner, by perceiving the dMagreement
and repugnancy of any two ideas, I conceive
is meant perceiving the truth of a negative
propofition, of which both fubjed: and predi-
cate are ideas. This I take to be the only
meaning the words can bear, and it is confir-
med by what Mr. Locke fays in a paflage al-
readed quoted in this chapter, that " the
" mind, taking its ideas to agree or difagree,
" is the fame as taking any propofition to be
" true or falfe." Therefore, if the definition
of knowledge given by Mr. Locke be a juft
one, the fubjed, as well as the predicate of
every propofition, by which any point of know-
ledge is expreffed, mud be an idea, and can
be nothing elfe ; and the fame mud hold of
every propofition by which judgment is ex-
preffed, as has been fhown above.

Having afcertained the mtaiiing of this de-
finition of human knowledge, we are next to
confider how far it is jufl.

Firft^ I would obferve, that if the word idea be
taken in the meaning which it had at firft among
the Pythagoreans and Platonills, and if by
knowledge be meant only abdrad and general
knowledge, (which I believe Mr. Locke had
chiefly in his view,) I think the propofition is

true.

SENTIMENTS concerning JUDGMENT. 219

true, that fuch knowledge confifls f^'dy ir
perceiving the truth oF propofitions whofc fub-
jedt and predicate are ideas,

By ideas here I mean things conceived ab-
flradly, without regard to their exiflence :
We commonly call them abflrai!^ notions, ab-
ftract conceptions, abfhrad: ideas ; the Peripa-
tetics called them univerfals ; and the Plato-
nifts, who knew no other ideas, called them
ideas without addition.

Such ideas are both fubjedl and predicate
in every propofition which expreffes abftracl
knowledge.

The whole body of pure mathematics is an
abftratt fcience ; and in every mathematical
propofition, both fubjeft and predicate are
ideas, in the fenfe above explained. Thus,
when I fay the fide of a fquare is not commen-
furable to its diagonal : In this propofition
the fide and the diagonal of a fquare are the fub-
jecls, (for being a relative propofition it muft
have two fubjefts.) A fquare, its fide, and
its diagonal, are ideas or univerfals ; they are
not individuals, but things predicable of many
individuals. Exiftence is not included in their
definition, nor in the conception we form of
them. The predicate of the propofition is com-
menfurahle^ which mud be an univerfal, as the
predicate of every propofition is ^o. In other
branches of knowledge many abftract truths
may be found, but, for the moft part, mixed
with others that are not abilrad.

I add, that I apprehend that what is flriclly
called demonflrative evidence, is to be found
in abflraft knowledge only. This was the
opinion of Aristotle, of Plato, and I think
of all the ancient Philofophers ; and I believe

in

220 ESSAY VI.

C H A P.in this they judged right. It Is true, we often
^"' meet with demonilration in agronomy, in me-
'"^^"''^^ chanics, and in other branches of natural phi-
lofophy ; but I believe we fhall always find that
fuch demonftrations are grounded upon prin-
ciples or fuppofitions, which have neither inr>
tuitive nor demonftrative evidence.

Thus when we demonftrate, that the path of
a projedile in vacuo is a parabola, we fuppofe
that it is acted upon with the fame force, and
in the fame direction through its whole path
by gravity. This is not intuitively known,
nor is it demonftrable : And in the demonftra-
tion, we reafon from the laws of motion,
which are principles not capable of demonflra-
tion, bait grounded on a diiferent kind of evi-
dence.

Ideas, in the fenfe above explained, are
creatures of the mind ; they are fabricated by
its rational powers ; we know their nature and
their eifence ; for they are nothing more than
they are conceived to be : And becaufe they
are perfectly known, we can reafon about them
with the highefl degree of evidence.

And as they are not things that exift, but
things conceived, they neither have place nor
time, nor are they liable to change.

When we fay that they are in the mind, this
can mean no more but that they are conceived
by the mind, or that they are objec'rs of thought.
The ad: of conceiving them is no doubt in the
mind ; the things conceived have no place, be-
caufe they have not exiftcnce. Thus a circle,
confidered abftractly, is faid figuratively to be
in the mind of him that conceives it ; but in
no other fenfe than the city of London or the
kingdom of France is faid to be in his min4
when he thinks of thofe objects.

Place

SENTIMEKTS concerning JUDGMENT. 221

Place and time belong to finite things that^ HAP.
exift, but not to things that are barely con-
ceived. They may be objeds of conception to
intelligent beings in every place, and at all
times. Hence the Pythagoreans and Platonifts
were led to think that they are eternal and
omniprefent. If they had exiftence, they muft
be fo ; for they have no relation to any one
place or time, which they have not to every
place and to every time.

The natural prejudice of mankind, that what
we conceive muft have exiftence, led thofe an-
cient Philofophers to attribute exiftence to
ideas ; and by this they were led into all the
extravagant and myfterious parts of their fyf-
tem. When it is purged of thefe, 1 apprehend
it to be the only intelligible and rational fyftem
concerning ideas.

I agree with them, therefore, that ideas are
immutably the fame in all times and places :
For this means no more but that a circle is
always a circle, and a fquare always a fquare.

I agree with them, that ideas are the pat-
terns or exemplars, by which every thing was
made that had a beginning : For an intelligent
artificer muft conceive his work before it is
made ; he makes it according to that concep-
tion ; and the thing conceived, before it ex-
ifts, can only be an idea.

I agree with them, that every fpecies of
things confidered abftraclly is an idea : and
that the idea of the fpecies is in every indivi-
dual of the fpecies, without divifion or multi-
plication. This indeed is expreHed fomewhat
myfterioufly, according to the manner of the
fed J but it may eafily be explained.

Every

222 ESSAY VI.

Every idea is an attribute ; and it is a com-
mon way of fpeaking, to fay, that the attri-
bute is in every fubjecl of which it may truly
be affirmed. Thus, to be above jifty years of
age, is an attribute or idea. This attribute
may be in, or affirmed of,' fifty diffisrent indi-
viduals, and be the fame in all, without divi-
fion or multiplication.

I think, that not only every fpecies, but
every genus, higher or lower, and every at-
tribute confidered abflractly, is an idea. Thefe
are things conceived without regard to exifl-
cncc : they are univerfals, and therefore ideas,
according to the ancient meaning of that
word.

It is true, that, after the Platonifts entered
into difputes with the Peripatetics, in order to
defend the exiftence of eternal ideas, they
found it prudent to contraft the line of defence,
and maintained only that there is an idea of
every fpecies of natural things, but not of the
genera, nor of things artificial. They were
unvviUing to multiply beings beyond what was
neccffary ; but in this I think they departed
from the genuine principles of their fyftem.

The definition of a fpecies, is nothing but
the definition of the genus, with the addition
of a fpecific difference ; and the divifion of
things into fpecies is the work of the mind, as
well as their divifion into genera and claflfes.
A fpecies, a genus, an order, a clafs, is only
a combination of attributes miade by the mind,
and called by one name. There is therefore
the fame reafon for giving the name of idea to
every attribute, and to every fpecies and genus,
whether higher or lower : Thefe are only more
complex attributes, or combinations of the

more

SENTIMENTS concermvg JUDGME NT. 223

more fimple. And though it might be impro-^ HAP,
per, without neceflity, to multiply beings, ^ '
which they believed to have a real exiftence ;
yet, had they feen that ideas are not things that
exift, but things that are conceived, they would
have apprehended no danger nor expence from
their number.

Simple attributes, fpecies and genera, lower
or higher, are all things conceived without re-
gard to exiftence ; they are univerfals ; they
are expreffed by general words ; and have an
equal title to be called by the name of ideas.

I hkewife agree with thofe ancient Philofo-
phers, that ideas are the obje6t, and the fole
obje£t of fcience, ftri£lly fo called ; that is, of
demonftrative reafoning.

And as ideas are immutable, fo their agree-
ments and difagreements, and all their relations
and attributes, are immutable. All mathema-
tical truths are immutably true. Like the
ideas about which they are converfant, they
have no relation to time or place, no depen-
dence upon exiftence or change. That the
angles of a plane triangle are equal to two
right angles, always was and always will be
true, though no triangle had ever exifted.

The fame may be faid of all abftradl truths.
On that account they have often been called
eternal truths : And for the fame reafon the
Pythagoreans afcribed eternity to the ideas
about which they are converfant. They may
very properly be called neceflary truths ; be-
caufe it is impoflible they (hould not be true at
all times and in all places.

Such is the nature of all truth that can be
difcovered, by perceiving the agreements and
difagreements of ideas, when we take that word
in its primitive fenfe. And that Mr. Locke,

in

224

ESSAY

vi.

C H A P. In his definition of knowledge, had chiefly in
|- his view abftraft truths, we may be led to
^ think from the examples he gives to illuftrate
it.

But there is another great clafs of truths,
which are not abftraft and neceflary, and there-
fore cannot be perceived in the agreements
and difagreements of ideas. Thefe are all the
truths we know concerning the real exiflence
6f things ; the ruth of our own exiflence ; of
tlic exigence of other things, inanimate,
animal and rational, and of their various attri-
butes and relations.

Thefe truths may be called contingent
truths. I except only the exiflence and attri-
butes of the Supreme Being, which is the only
neceffary truth I know regarding exiflence.

All other beings that exift, depend for their
exiflence, and all that belongs to it, upon the
will and power of the firfl caufe ; therefore,
neither their exiflence, nor their nature, nor
any thing that befals them, is necelTary, but
contingent.

But although the exiflence of the Deity be
neceffary, I apprehend w'e can only deduce it
from contingent truths. The only arguments
for the exiflence of a Deity which I am able to
comprehend, are grounded upon the know-
ledge of my own exiflence, and the exiflence
of other finite beings. But thefe are contin-
gent truths.

I believe, therefore, that by perceiving
agreements and difagreements of ideas, no con-
tingent truth whatfoever can be known, nor
the real exiflence of any thing, not even our
own exiflence, nor the exiflence of a Dqity,
which is a neceifary truth. Thus I have en-
deavoured

SENTIMENTS concerning JUDGMENT. 225

deavoured to fhew what knowledge may, and CHAP,
what cannot be attained, by perceiving the ^^^•
agreements and difagi eements of ideas, when ^"""^^"'^
•we take that word in its primitive fenfe.

We are, in the next place, to confider, whe-
ther knowledge confifts in perceiving the agree-
ment or difagreement of ideas, takin<^ ideas in
any of the fenfes in which the word is ufed by
Mr. Locke and other modern Philofophers.

1. Very often the word idea is ufed fo, that
to have the idea of any thing is ?iperiphrafis for
conceiving it. In this fenfe, an idea is not an
objed of thought, it is thought itfclf. It is the
a6t of the mind by which we conceive any ob-
ject. And it is evident that this could not be
the meaning which Mr. Locke had in view in
his definition of knowledge.

2. A fecond meaning of the word idea is
that which Mr. Locke gives in the introduc-
tion to his Eifay, when he is making an apolo-
gy for the frequent ufe of it. *' It being that
" term, I think, which ferves bed to (land for
" whatfoever is the obje6t of the underftand-
*' ing when a man thinks, or whatever it is
*' which a man can be employed about in
" thinking.'*

By this definition, indeed, every thing that
can be the objeft of thought is an idea. The
objects of our thoughts may, I think, be redu-
ced to two clalfes.

The firft clals comprehends all thofe obje£ts
which we not only can think of, but which we
believe to have a real exiflence. Such as the
Creator of all things, and all his creatures that
fall within our notice. I can think of the fun
and moon, the earth and fea, and of the vari-
ous animal, vegetable, and inanimate produc-

VoL. II. Q^ tions

diS ESSAY VI,

C H A P.tions with which it hath pleafed the bountiful
^^^- Creator to enrich our globe. I can think of
myfelf, of my friends and acquaintance. I
think of the author of the Effay with high
efteem. Thefe, and fuch as thefe, are objefts
of the underftanding which we believe to have
real exigence.

A fecond clafs of objects of the underftand-
ing which a man may be employed about in
thinking, are things which we either believe
never to have exifted, or Vvhich we think of
without regard to their exiftence.

Thus, I can think of Don Quixote, of
the ifland of Laputa, of Oceana, and of
Utopia, which I believe never to have exifted.
Every attribute, every fpecies, and every ge-
nus of things, confidered abftradly, without
any regard to their exiftence or non-exiftence,
may be an objeft of the underftanding.

To this fecond clafs of objeds of the under-
ftanding, the name of idea does very properly
belong, according to the primitive fenfe of the
word, and I have already confidered what
knowledge does, and what does not confift in
perceiving the agreements and difagreements
of fuch ideas.

But if we take the word idea in fo extenfive
a fenfe as to comprehend, not only the fecond,
but alfo the firft clafs of objecls of the under-
ftanding, it will undoubtedly be true, that all
knowledge confifts in perceiving the agree-
ments and difagreements of ideas: For it is
impoflible that there can be any knowledge,
any judgment, any opinion, true or falfe,
which is not employed about the objecls of
the underftanding. But whatfoever is an ob-

jea

SENTIMENTS concerning JUDGMENT. 227

je6t of the underftanding is an idea, according ^ ^j^ P*
to this fecond meaning of the word. o-^r— »

Yet I am perfuaded that Mr. Locke, in his
definition of knowledge, did not mean that
the word idea fhould extend to all thofe things
which we commonly confider as objects of the
underftanding.

Though Bifhop Berkeley believed that
fun, moon, and ftars, and all material things,
are ideas, and nothing but ideas, Mr. Locke
no where profeifes this opinion. He believed
that we have ideas of bodies, but not that
bodies are ideas. In like manner, he believed
that we have ideas of minds, but not that
minds are ideas. When he enquired fo care-
fully into the origin of all our ideas, he did
not furely mean to find the origin of whatfo-
ever may be the objeft of the underftanding,
nor to refolve the origin of every thing that
may be an object of underftanding into fenfa-
tion and refledion.

3. Setting afide, therefore, the two mean-
ings of the word idea before mentioned, as
meanings which Mr. Locke could not have
in his view in the definition he gives of know-
ledge, the only meaning that could be intend-
(6d in this place is that which I before called
the Philofophical meaning of the word idea,
tvhich hath a reference to the theory commonly
received about the manner in which the mind
perceives external objects, and in which it re-
members and conceives objefts that are not
prefent to it. It is a very ancient opinion,
and has been very generally received among
Philofopers, that we cannot perceive or think
of fuch obje(^s immediately, but by the medi-
(^2 um

228 ESSAY VI.

CHAP, um of certain images or reprefentatives of
^^^- them really exiting in the mind at the time.
"'''■"'' To thofe images the ancients gave the name
of fpecies and phantafms. Modern Philofo-
phers have given them the name of ideas.
" 'Tis evident," fays Mr. Locke, book 4.
ch. 4. " the mind knows not things immedi-
" ately, but only by the intervention of the
" ideas it has of them." And in the fame pa-
ragraph he puts this queflion: " How fhall the
" mind, when it perceives nothing but its
" own ideas, know that they agree with
" things themfelves?"

This theory I have already confidered, in
treating of perception, of memory, and of
conception. The reader will there find the
reafons that lead me to think, that it has no
folid foundation in reafon, or in attentive re-
flection upon thofe operations of our minds;
that it contradids the immediate diftates of
our natural faculties, which are of higher au-
thority than any theory; that it has taken its
rife from the fame prejudices which led all the
ancient Philofophers to think that the Deity
could not make this world without fome eter-
nal matter to work upon, and which led the
Pythagoreans and Platonifts to think, that he
could not conceive the plan of the world he
was to make without eternal ideas really exift-
ing as patterns to work by ; and that this theo-
ry, when its neceflary confequences are fairly
purfued, leads to abfolute fcepticifm, though
thofe confequences were not feen by moft of
the Philofophers who have adopted it.

I have no intention to repeat what has be-
fore been faid upon thofe points; but only,
taking ideas in this fenfe, to make fome obfer-

vations

SENTIMENTS concerning JUDGMENT. 229

vations upon the definition which Mr. Locke CHAP.
gives of knowledge.

Firjl, If all knowledge confills in perceiving
the agreements and difagreements of ideas,
that is, of reprefentative images of things ex-
ifling in the mind, it obvioufly follows, that
if there be no fuch ideas, there can be no
knowledge: So that, if there fliould be found
good reafon for giving up this philofophical
hypothefis, all knowledge mufl go along with
it.

I hope, however, it is not fo; and that
though this hypothefis, like many others,
Ihould totter and fall to the ground, knowledge
will continue to ftand firm, upon a more per-
manent bafis.

The cycles and epicycles of the ancient Af-
tronomers were for a thoufand years thought
abfolutely neceflary to explain the motions of
the heavenly bodies. Yet now, when all men
believe them to have been mere fiftions, aftro-
nomy has not fallen with them, but (lands up-
on a more rational foundation than before.
Ideas, or images of things exifting in the
mind, have for a longer time been thought
neceflary for explaining the operations of the
underftanding. If they Ihould likevvife at lafl
be found to be fictions, human knowledge
and judgment would fuft'er nothing, by being
difengaged from an unwieldly hypothefis. Mr.
Locke furely did not look upon the exiftence
of ideas as a philofophical hypothefis. He
thought that we are coiifcious of their exif-
tence, otherwife he would not have made the
exiftence of all our knowledge to depend upon
the exiftence of ideas.

Secondlyt

230 ESSAY VI.

CHAP. Secondly, Suppofing this hypyothefis to be
vJy-^ true, I agree \yith Mr. Locke, that it is an
~^ " evident and necellary confequence that our
knowledge can be converfant about ideas only,
and mull confift in perceiving their attributes
and relations. For nothing can be more evi-
dent than this, that all knowledge, and all
judgment and opinion, muft be about things
which are or may be immediate objects of our
thought. What cannot be the obje£t of
thought, or the object of the mind in think-
ing, cannot be the obje<Et of knowledge or of
opinion.

Every thing we can know of any objeft muft
be either fome attribute of the object, or fome
relation it bears to fome other object or objefts.
By the agreements and difagreements of ob-
je6ts, I apprehend Mr. Locke intended to ex-
prefs both their attributes and their relations.
If ideas then be the only objects of thought,
the confequence is neceifary, that they muft be
the only objefts of knowledge, and all know-
ledge muft confift in perceiving their agree-
ments and difagreements, that is, their attri-
butes and relations.

The ufe I would make of this confequence,
is to fhow that the hypothecs muft be falfe,
from which it neceffarily follows : For if we
have any knowledge of things that are not
ideas, it will follow no lefs evidently, that
ideas are not the only objects of our thoughts.

Mr. Locke has pointed out the extent and
limits of human knowledge in his fourth book,
with more accuracy and judgment than any
Philofopher had done before; but he has not
confined it to the agreements and difagree-
ments of ideas. And I cannot help thinking,

that

SENTIMENTS concfrnln^ JUDGMENT. 231

that a great part of that book is an evident re-C H A P.
futation of the principles laid down in the be- ^^^'
ginning of it.

Mr. Locke did not believe that he himfeli
was an idea ; that his friends and acquaintance
were ideas j that the Supreme Being, to fpeak
with reverence, is an idea ; or that the fun and
moon, the earth and the fea, and other exter-
nal objeds of fenfej are ideas. He believed
that he had foine certain knovi^lcdge of all thofe
objects. His knowledge, therefore, did not
confift folely in perceiving the agreements and
difagrcements of his ideas : For, furely, to
perceive the exiftence, the attributes, and re-
lations of things, which are not ideas, is not
to perceive the agreements and difagreements
ot ideas. And if things which are not ideas
be objects of knowledge, they muft be obje<3:s
of thought. On the contrary, if ideas be the
only objects of thought, there can be no know-
ledge either of oUr dwn exiftence, or of the
exiftence of external objeds, or of the exif-
tence of a Deity.

This confequence, as far as concerns the
exiftence of external objects of fenfe, was af-
terwards deduced from the theory of ideas by
Biftiop Berkeley with the cleareft evidence ;
and that author chdfe rather to adopt the con-
fequence than to reje£t the theory on which it
was grounded. But, with regard to the ex-
iftence of our own minds, of other minds, and
of a Supreme Mind, the Bifhop, that he might
avoid the confequence, rejected a part of the
theory, and maintained, that we can think of
of minds, of their attributes and relations,
without ideas,

Mr.

23t ESSAY VL

Mr. Hume faw very clearly the confequen-
ces of this theory, and adopted them in his
fpeculative moments ; but candidly acknow-
ledges, that, in the common bufmefs of life,
he found himfelf under a neceffity of believing
with the vulgar. His Treatife of Human Na-
ture is the only fyflem to which the theory of
ideas leads ; and, in my apprehenfion, is, in
all its parts, the neceffary confequence of that
theory.

Mr. Locke, however, did not fee all the
confequences of that theory ; he adopted it
without doubt or examination, carried along
by the ftream of Philofophers that went before
him ; and his judgment and good fenfe have
led him to fay many things, and to believe
many things that cannot be reconciled to it.

He not only believed his own exiftence, the
exiflence of external things, and the exiftence
of a Deitv ; but he has fhown very juflly how
we come by the knowledge of thefe exiflen-
ces.

It might here be expected, that he fhould
have pointed out the agreements and difagree-
mcnts of ideas from which thefe exillences are
deduced ; but this is impoffible, and he has
not even attempted it.

Our own exiftence, he obferves, ive know
intuitively ; but this intuition is not a percep-
tion of the agreement or difagreement of ideas ;
for the fubjedt of thepropofition, lex'iji, is not
an idea, but a perfon.

The knowledge of external objects of fenfe,
he obferves, -we can have only by fenfation.
This fenfation he afterwards exprefles more
clearly by the tejlimony of our fenjes, which are
the proper and fole judges of this tl/mg ; whofe

teftimony

SENTIMENTS concerning JUDGMENT. 233

tcftimony is the greateji ajfurance we can po/Jtbly^ HAP.
have, and to which our faculties can attain. '

This is perfedly agreeable to the common
fenfe of mankind, and is perfedly underftood
Jby thofe who never heard of the theory ot
ideas. Our fenfes teflify immediately the ex-
iftence, and many of the attributes and relati-
ons of external material beings ; and, by our
conftitution, we rely with aflurance upon their
teftimony, without feeking a reafon for doing
io. This aflurance, Mr. Locke acknowledg-
es, deferves the name of knowledge. But thofe
external things are not ideas, nor are their at-
tributes and relations the agreements and dif-
agreements of ideas, but the agreements and
difagreements of things which are not ideas.

To reconcile this to the theory of ideas,
Mr, Locke fays. That it is the adual receiving
of ideas from without that gives us notice of the
exi/ience of thofe external things.

This, if underftood literally, would lead us
back to the dodlrine of Aristotle, that our
ideas or fpecies come from without from the
external objects, and are the image or form of
thofe objedts. But Mr. Locke, I believe,
meant no more by it, but that our ideas of
fenfe muft have a caufe, and that we are not
the caufe of them ourfelves.

Bifhop Berkeley acknowledges all this,
and fhews very clearly, that it does not afford
the lead fliadow of reafon for the belief of any
material objedt. Nay, that there can be no-
thing external that has any refemblance to our
ideas but the ideas of other minds.

It is evident, therefore, that the agree-
ments and difagreements of ideas can give us
no knowledge of the exiflence of any material

thing.

234 ESSAY VI.

P-thing. If any knowledge can be attained of
things which are not ideas, that knowledge is
a perception of agreements and difagreements,
not of ideas, but of things that are not ideas.

As to the exiftence of a Deity, though Mr.
Locke was aware that Des Cartes, and ma-
ny after him, had attempted to prove it merely
from the agreements and difagreements of
ideas ; yet " he thought it an ill way of efta-
" bHfhing that truth, and filencing Atheifts,
*' to lay the whole ftrefs of fo important a
" point upon that fole foundation.'* And
therefore he proves this point with great
ftrength and folidity, from our exiftence, and
the exiftence of the fenfible parts of the uni-
verfe. By memory, Mr. Locke fays, we have
the knowledge of the paft exiftence of feveral
things : But all conception of paft exiftence,
as well as of external exiftence, is irreconcilea-
ble to the theory of ideas ; becaufe it fuppofes
that there may be immediate objefts of thought,
■which are not ideas prefently exifting in the
mind.

I conclude therefore, that if we have any
knowledge of our own exiftence, or of the exif-
tence of what we fee about us, or of the ex-
iftence of a Supreme Being ; or if we have
any knov/ledge of things paft by memory, that
knowledge cannot confift in perceiving the
agreements and difagreements of ideas.

This conclufion, indeed, is evident of itfelf:
For if knowledge conftfts folely in the percep-
tion of the agreement or difagreemeiit of ideas,
there can be no knowledge of any propofition
which does not exprefs fome agreement or dif-
agreement of ideas ; confequently there can
be no knowledge of any propofition, which
exprelles either the exiftence, or the attributes

or

SENTIMENTS concerning JUDGMENT. ^^S'

CHAP
or relations of things, which are not ideas. ^^^

If therefore the theory of ideas be true, there w.-v-*j
can be no knowledge of any thing but of ideas.
And, on the other hand, if we have any know-
ledge of any thing befides ideas, that theory
mufl be falfe.

There can be no knowledge, no judgment,
or opinion about things which are not imme-
diate objects of thought. This I take to be
felf-evident. If, therefore, ideas be the only
immediate objects of thought, they mud be the
only things in nature of which we can have
any knowledge, and about which we can have
any judgment or opinion.

This neceflary confequence of the^common
doftrine of ideas Mr. Hume faw, and has
made evident in his Treatife of Human Na-
ture ; but the ufe he made of it was not to
overturn the theory with which it is neceflarily
connected, but to overturn all knowledge,
and to leave no ground to believe any thing
whatfoever. If Mr. Locke had feen this con-
fequence, there is reafon to think that he would
have made another ufe of it.

That a man of Mr. Locke's judgment and
penetration did not perceive a confequence fo
evident, feems indeed very ftrange ; and I
know no other account that can be given of it
but this, that the ambiguity of the word idea
has milled him in this, as in feveral other in-
ftances. Having at firfl: defined ideas to be
whatfoever is the objedt of the underft anding
when we think, he takes it very often in that
unlimited fenfc ; and fo every thing that can
be an object of thought is an idea. At other
times, he ufes the word to fignify certain re-
prefentative images of things in ths mind,

which

23^ ESSAY VI.

^^TT^ ^ which Philofophers have fuppofed to be imme-
^^,.._^^ diate objefts of thought. At other times,
things conceived abftradly, v/ithout regard to
their exiflence, are called ideas. Philofophy
is much indebted to Mr. Locke for his obfer-
vations on the abufe of words. It is pity he
did not apply thefe obfervations to the word
idea, the ambiguity and abufe of which has
very much hurt his excellent Efiay.

There are fome other opinions of Philofo-
phers concerning judgment, of which I think
it unneceffary to fay much.

Mr. Hume fometimes adopts Mr. Locke's
opinion, that it is the perception of the agree-
ment or difagreement of our ideas ; fometimes
he maintains, that judgment and reafoning re-
folve themfelves into conception, and are no-
thing but particular ways of conceiving objects ;
and he fays, that an opinion or belief may
mod accurately be defined, a lively idea related
to or ajfociated with a prefent imprejjion, Treatife
of Human Nature, vol. i. page 172.

I have endeavoured before, in the firfl: chap-
ter of this ElTay, to fhew that judgment is an
operation of mind fpecifically diilincl from the
bare conception of an objedt. I have alfo con-
fidered his notion of belief, in treating of the
theories concerning memory.

Dr. Hartley fays, " That aiTent and
" dilfent muft come under the notion of ideas,
" being only thofe very complex internal feel-
" ings which adhere by alTociation to fuch
" clufters of words as are called propofitions
" in general, or affirmations and negations in
" particular.'*

This, if 1 underfland its meaning, agrees
with the opinion of Mr. Hume above men-
tioned.

SENTIMENTS concer7iiMg JUDGMENT. 237

tioned, and has therefore been before con- C H A P,
fidered. ^ . _"L

Dr. Priestly has given another definition
of judgment. " It is nothing more than the
" perception of the univerfal concurrence, or
" the perfect coincidence of two ideas ; or the
'' want of that concurrence or coincidence.^*
'' This I think coincides with Mr. Locke's de-
" finition, and therefore has been already
*' confidered."

There are many particulars which deferve to
be known, and which might very properly be
confidered in this Effay on judgment ; concern-
ing the various kinds of proportions by which
our judgments are expreiTed ; their fubjefts
and predicates ; their converfions and oppofi-
tions : But as thefe are to be found in every
fyftem of logic from^ Aristotle down to the
prefent age, I think it unneceiTary to fwell this
Eiiay with the repetition of what has been faid
fo often. The remarks which have occurred
to me upon what is commonly faid on thefe
points, as well as upon the art of fyllogifm ;
the utility of the fchool logic, and the improve-
ments that may be made in it, may be found
in a Short account (&/" Aristotle's Logic with
Re/Jiarks, which Lord Kaimes has honoured
with a place in his Sketchet of the Hijlory of
Man,

CHAP.

ESSAY VL

CHAP. IV.

Of Jirji Principles in General.

N E of the moft Important diftin^lions of
our judgments is, that feme of them are
intuitive, others grounded on argument.

It is not in our power to judge as we wilL
The judgment is carried along neceflarily by
the evidence, real or feeming, which appears
to us at the time. But in propofitions that are
fubmitted to our judgment, there is this great
difference ; fome are of fuch a nature that a
man of ripe underftanding may apprehend them
diftinftly, and perfedly underftand their mean-
ing without finding himfelf under any neceffity
of believing them to be true or falfe, probable
or improbable. The judgment remains in fuf-
pence, until it is inchned to one fide or another
by reafons or arguments.

But there are other propofitloiis which are
no fooner underftood than they are believed.
The judgment follows the apprehenfion of them
neceffarily, and both are equally the work of
nature, and the refult of our original powers.
There is no fearching for evidence, no weigh-
ing of arguments ; the propofition is not dedu-
ced or inferred from another ; it has the light
of truth in itfelf, and has no occafion to bor-
row it from another.

Propofitions of the laft kind, when they are
ufed in matters of fcience, have commonly
been called axioms ; and on whatever occafion
they are ufed, are called^r/? principles, princi-
ples of common fenfe, common notions, felf -evident

truths.

Of FIRST PRINCIPLES in GENERAL. 239

truths. Cicero calls them Natura: jiidicia^dri A?,
judicia communibus hominum fcnfihus infix a. ^"*
Lord Shaftesbury exprelTes them by the ^ '
words, natural knowledge^ fundamental reafon,
and common fenfe.

What has been fald, I think, is fufficient to
diftinguifti firft principles, or intuitive judg-
ments, from thole which may be afcribed to
the power of reafoning ; nor is it a jufl objec*
tion againfl this diftinclion, that there may be
fome judgments concerning which we may be
dubious to which clafs they ought to be refer-
red. There is a real diftindtion between per-
fons within the houfe, and thofe that are with-
out ; yet it may be dubious to which the man
belongs that flands upon the threfhold.

The power of reafoning, that is of drawing
a conclufion from a chain of premifes, may
with fome propriety be called an art. " All
" reafoning,'* fays Mr. Locke, " is fearch
" and carting about, and requires pains and
" application." It refembles the power of
walking, which is acquired by ufe and exer-
cife. Nature prompts to it, and has given the
power of acquiring it ; but mull be aided by
frequent exercife before we are able to walk.
After repeated efforts, much {fumbling, and
many falls, we learn to walk ; and it is in a
fmiilar manner that we learn to reafon.

But the power of judging in felf-evident pro-
pofitions, which are clearly underftood, may
be compared to the power of fwallowing our
food. It is purely natural, and therefore com-
mon to the learned, and the unlearned ; to
the trained, and the untrained : It requires
ripenefs of underftanding, and freedom from
prejudice, but nothing elfe.

I take

r4c ESSAY VI.

I take it for granted, that there are felf-evi-
dent principles. Nobody, I think, denies it.
And if any man were fo fceptical as to deny
that there is any propofition that is felf-evident,
I fee not how it would be pofTible to convince
him by reafoning.

But yet there feems to be great difference of
opinions among Philofophers about firft prin-
ciples. What one takes to be felf-evident,
another labours to prove by arguments, and, a
third denies altogether.

Thus, before the time of Des Cartes, it
was taken for a firfl principle, that there is a
fun and a moon, an earth and fea, which re-
ally exift, whether we think of them or not.
Des Cartes thought that the exiflence of
thofe things ought to be proved by argument ;
and in this he has been followed by Male-
BRANCHE, Arnauld, and Locke. They
have all laboured to prove, by very weak rea-
foning, the exiitence of external objeds of
fenfe ; and Berkeley and Hume, fenfible of
the weaknefs of their arguments, have been
led to deny their exiftence altogether.

The ancient Philofophers granted, that all
knowledge mufl be grounded on firfl princi-
ples, and that there is no reafoning without
them. The Peripatetic philofophy was redun-
dant rather than deficient in firfl: principles.
Perhaps the abufe of them in that ancient fyf-
tem may have brought them into difcredit in
modern times ; for as the befl things may be
abufed, fo that abufe is apt to give a difgufl to
the thing itfeif ; and as one extreme often leads
into the oppofite, this feems to have been the
cafe in the refpeft paid to firfl principles in an-
cient and in modern times.

Des

Of FIRST PRINCIPLES in GENERAL. 241

Des Cartes thought one principle, expref-C HAP.
fed in one word cogito, a fufficient foundation ^^,..^„.^
for his whole fyflem, and alked no more.

Mr. Locke feems to think firfl principles of
very fmall ufe. Knowledge confiding, ac-
cording to him, in the perception of the agree-
ment or difagreement of our ideas ; when we
have clear ideas, and are able to compare them
together, we may always fabricate firfl princi-
ples as often as we have occafion for them.
Such differences we find among Philofophers
about firfl principles.

It is likewife a queflioli of fome moment,
whether the differences among m.en about firfl:
principles can be brought to any iflue ? When,
in difputes, one man maintains that to be a
firfl principle, which another denies, common-
ly both parties appeal to common fenfe, and
fo the matter refls; Now, is there no way of
difcuffmg this appeal ? Is there no mark or
criterion, whereby firfl principles that are tru-
ly fuch, may be diflinguifhed from thofe that
affume the charafter without a jufl title ? I
(hall humbly offer in the following propofitions
what appears to me to be agreeable to truth in
thefe matters, always ready to change my opi-
nion upon convidion.

I. Firji, I hold it to be certain, and even
demonflrable. That all knowledge got by rea--
foning mufl be built upon firfl principles.

This is as certain as that every houfe mufl;
have a foundation. The power of reafoning,
in this refpect, refembles the mechanical pow-
ers or engines ; it mufl: have a fixed point to
refl: upon, otherwife it fpends its force in the
air, and produces no effect.

Vol. IL R When

242 ESSAY Yl.

€ H A P. When we examine, in the way of analyi%y
"• the evidence of any pFopofiticn, either we find

^•^^^1^ it felf-evident, or it reds upon one or more
propcfitions that fupport it. The fame thing
may be faid of the propofitions that fupport it ;
and of thofe that fupport them, as far back as
we can go. But we cannot go back in this
track to infinity. Where then mufi: this ana-
lyfis ftop ? It is evident that it mufl flop only
when we come to propofitions, which fupport
all that are built upon them, but are themfelves
fupported by none, that is, to felf-evident pro-
pofitions.

Let us again confider a fynthetical proof of
any kind, where we begin with the premifes,
and purfue a train of confequences, until we
come to the lad conclufion, or thing to be
proved. Here we mufl begin, either with
felf-evident propofitions, or with fuch as have
been already proved. When the lafl is the
cafe, theproof of the propofitions, thus afTumed,
is a part of our proof ; and the proof is defici-
ent without it. Suppofe then the deficiency
fupplied, and the proof completed, is it not
evident that it mufl fet out with felf-evident
propofitions, and that the whole evidence mufl
refl upon them ? So that it appears to be de»
monflrable that, without firfl principles, ana-
lytical reafoning could have no end, and fyn-
thetical reafoning could have no beginning ;
and that every conclufion got by reafoning
mufl refl with its whole weight upon firfi prin-
ciples, as the building does upon its founda-
tion.

2. A fecond propofition is. That fome firfl
principles yield conclufions that are certain,

others

Of FIRST PRINCIPLES in GENERAL. 243

others fuch as are probable, in various de- C H A P.
grees, from the higheft probabiHty to the low- ^^'
eft.

In juft reafoning, the ftrength or wcaknefs
of the conclufion will always correfpond to
that of the principles on which it is grriunded.

In a matter of teftimony, it is felf-evident,
that the teftimony of two is better than that of
one, fuppofing them equal in character, and
in their means of knowledge ; yet the fimple
teftimony may be true, and that which is pre-
ferred to it may be falfe.

When an experiment has fucceeded in fe-
veral trials, and the circumftances have been
marked with care, there is a felf-evident pro-
bability of its fucceeding in a new trial ; but
there is no certainty. The probabihty, in
fome cafes, is much greater than in others ;
becaufe, in fome cafes, it is much eafier to
obferve all the circumftances that may have
influence upon the event than in others. And
it is poffible, that, after many experiments
made with care, our expeftation may be fruf-
trated in a fucceeding one, by the variation of
fome circumftance that has not, or perhaps
could not be obferved.

Sir Isaac Newton has laid it down as a
firft principle in natural philofophy, that a
property which has been found in all bodies
upon which we have had accefs to make expe-
riments, and which has always been found in
its quantity to be in exact proportion to the
quantity of matter in every body, is to be held
as an univerfal property of matter.

This principle, as far as I know, has never

been called in queftion. The evidence we

have, that all matter is divifible, moveable,

R 2 folid.

244 ESSAY VI.

CHAP.folId, and inert, Is refolveable into this prln--
^^^^^ ciple ; and if it be not true, we cannot have
^'^^^^ any rational convidion that all matter has thofs
properties. From the fame principle that great
man has fhewn, that we have reafon to con-
clude, that all bodies gravitate towards each
other.

This principle, however, has not that kind
of evidence which mathematical axioms have.
It is not a neceflary truth whofe contrary is
impoffible ; nor did Sir Isaac ever conceive it
to be fuch. And if it ihould ever be found,
by juit experiments, that there is any part in-
the compofition of fome bodies which has not
gravity, the facl, if duly afcertained, muft be
admitted as an exception to the general law of
gravitation.

In games of chance, it is a firfl: principle,
that every fide of a die has an equal chance to
be turned up ; and that, in a lottery, every
ticket has an equal chance of being drawn out.
From fuch firfl principles as thefe, which are
the befl we can have in fuch matters, we may
deduce, by demonftrative reafoning, the pre-
cife degree of probability of every event in fuch
games.

But the principles of all this accurate and
profound reafoning can never yield a certain
conclufion, it being impofTible to fupply a de-
feft in the firfl principles by any accuracy in
the reafoning that is grounded upon them. As
water, by its gravity, can rife no higher in its
courfe than the fountain, however artfully it
be conduded ; fo no conclufion of reafoning
can have a greater degree of evidence than the
Brft principles from which it is drawn.

From

0/ FIRST PRINCIPLES in GENERAL. 245

From thefe inftances, it is evident, that as C H A. p.
there are fome firft principles that yield con- ^^•
clufions of abfolutc certainty ; fo there are ^— "v*^
others that can only yield probable conclufions ;
and that the lowefl degree of probability muft
be grounded on firft principles as well as abfo-
lute certainty.

3. A third proportion is, that it would con-
tribute greatly to the ftability of human know-
ledge, and confequently to the improvement
of it, if the firft principles upon which the va-
rious parts of it are grounded were pointed out
and ascertained.

We have ground to think fo, both from
facts, and from the nature of the thing.

Thei*e are two branches of human know-
ledge in which this method has been followed,
to wit, mathematics and natural philofophy ;
in mathematics, as far as we have books. It
is in this fcience only, that, for more than two
thoufand years fmce it began to be cultivated,
we find no feds, no contrary fyftems, and
hardly any difputes ; or, if there have been dif-
putes, they have ended as foon as the animo-
lity of parties fubfided, and have never been
again revived. The fcience, once firmly efta-
blilhed upon the foundation of a few axioms
and definitions, as upon a rock, has grown from
age to age, fo as to become the loftieft and the
moft folid fabric that human reafon can boaft.

Natural philofophy, till lefs than two hun-
dred years ago, remained in the fame flu<5tua-
ting ftate with the other fcience s. Every new
fyftem pulled up the old by the roots. The
fyftem builders, indeed, were always willing
to accept of the aid of firft principles, when
tthey were of their fide ; but finding them in-

fufficient

246 ESSAY VL

CHAP, fufficlent to fiipport the fabric which their ima-t
1 .g ^nation had raifed, they were only brought in
'as auxiUaries, and lo intermixed with conjec-
tures, and with larne indudions, that their fyf-
tems were hke Nebuchadnezzar's image,
•whofe feet were partly of iron and partly of
clay.

Lord Bacon firft delineated the only folid
foundation on which natural philofophy can be
built ; and S'v Isaac Newton reduced the
pi-incipi,e$ laid down by Bacon into three or
four axioms, which he calls regula philofophan-
di. Fro in thefe, together with the phasnome-
na obferved by the fenfes, which he likewife
lays down as firil principles, he deduces, by
Itrift reafoning, the propofitions contained in
the third book of his Principia, and in his
Optics ; and by this means has raifed a fabric
in thofe two branches of natural philofophy,
which is not liable to be Ihaken by doubtfui
diiputation, but Hands immoveable upon the
bafis of felf-evident principles.

This fabric has been carried on by the ac-
ceffion of new difcoveries y but is no more
ibject to revolutions.

i'he difputes about materia prima^ fubftantial
forms, Nature's abhorring a vacuum, and bo-
dies having no gravitation in their proper place,
are now no more. The builders in this work
are not put to the neceffity of holding a weapon
in one hand while they build with the other :
their whole employment is to carry on the
work.

Yet it feems to be very probable, that if na«»
tural philofophy had not been reared upon this
folid foundation of felf-evident principles, it
would have been to this day a field of battle,

wherein

Of FIRST PRINCIPLES in GENERAL. 247

wherein every inch of ground would have been ^ HA P.
difputed, and nothing fixed and determined. ' .

I acknowledge that mathematics and natural
philolbphy, efpecially the former, have this ad-
vantao;e of mod other fciences, that it is lefs
difficult to form diftinft and determmate con-
ceptions of the objefts about which they are
employed ; but as this difficulty is not infu'pe-
rable, it affords a good reafon, indeed, why
other fciences fhould have a longer infancy ;
but no reafon at all why they may not at lafl
arrive at maturity, by the fame fleps as thofe
of quicker growth.

The fafts I have mentioned may therefore
lead us to conclude, that if in other branches
of philofophy the firfl principles were laid,
down, as has been done in mathematics and
natural philofophy, and the fubfequent con-
clufions grounded upon them, this would make
it much more eafy to diftinguifh what is folid
and well fupported from the vain fidions of
human fancy.

But laying afide fads, the nature of the
thing leads to the fame conclufion.

For when any fyflem is grounded upon firfl
principles, and deduced regularly from them,
we have a thread to lead us through the laby-
rinth. The judgment has a diftinft and deter-
minate objed:. The heterogeneous parts being
feparated, can be examined each by itfelf.

The whole fyflem is reduced to axioms, de-
finitions, and dedudions. Thefe are materials
of very different nature, and to be meafured
by a very different flandard ; and it is much
more eafy to judge of each, taken by itfelf,
than to judge of a mafs wherein they are knead-
ed together without diflindion. Let us con-
lider how we judge of each of them.

248 ESSAY Vr.

Firji^ As to definitions, the matter is very
eafy. They relate only to words, and differ-
ences about them may produce different ways
of fpeaking, but can never produce different
ways of thinking, while every man keeps to
his own definitions.

But as there is not a more plentiful fource of
fallacies in reafoning than mens ufing the fame
word fometimes in one fenfe and at other times
in another, the beft means of preventing fuch
fallacies, or of detecting them when they are
committed, is definitions of words as accurate
as can be given.

Secondly, As to dedudiofts drawn from prin-
ciples granted on both fides, I do not fee how
they can long be a matter of difpute among
men who are not blinded by prejudice or partia-
lity : For the rules of reafoning by which in-
ferences may be drawn from premifes have
been for two thoufand years fixed with great
unanimity. No man pretends to difpute the
rules of reafoning laid down by Aristotle,
and repeated by every writer in dialeftics.

And we may obferve by the way, that the
reafon why Logicians have been fo unanimous
in determining the rules of reafoning, from
Aristotle down to this day, feems to be,
that they were by that great genius raifed, in
a fciemific manner, from a few definitions and
axioms. It may farther be obferved, that
when men differ about a dedu£lion, whether
it follows from certain premifes, this I think is
aKvays owing to their differing about fome firft
principle. 1 fhall explain this by an example.

Suppofe that, from a thing having begun to
exift, one man infers that it mufl have had a
caufe J another man does not admit the infer-
ence-.

Of FIRST PRINCIPLES in GENERAL. 249

ence. Here It is evident, that the firfl takes CHAP,
it for a lelf-evident principle, that every thing
which begins to exift muft have a caufe. The
other does not allow this to be felf-evident.
Let them fettle this point, and the difpute will
be at an end.

Thus I think it appears, that in rnatters of
fcience, if the terms be properly explained, the
firft principles upon which the reafoning is
grounded be laid down and expofed to exami-
nation, and the conclufions regularly deduced
from them, it might be expeded, that men of
candour and capacity, who love truth, and
have patience to examine things coolly, might
come to unanimity with regard to the force of
the deduftions, and that their differences might
be reduced to thofe they may have about firft
principles.

4. K fourth propofitlon is, that Nature hath
not left us deflitute of means whereby the can-
did and honefl part of mankind may be
brought to unanimity when they happen to
differ about firfl principles.

When men differ about things that are taken
to be firft principles or felf-evident truths, rea-
foning feems to be at an end. Each party ap-
peals to common fenfe. When one man^s
common fenfe gives one determination, ano-
ther man's a contrary determination, there
feems to be no remedy but to leave every man
to enjoy his own opinion. This is a common
obfervation, and I believe a jufl one, if it be
rightly underftood.

It is in vain to reafon with a man who denies
the firft principles on which the reafoning is
grounded. Thus, it would be In vain to at-
tempt the proof of a propofitlon in Euclid to

a man

25® ESSAY \^.

^^'^P-a man who denies the axioms. Indeed, we
■ ought never to reafon with men who deny firfl
principles from obftinacy and unwillingnefs to
yield to reafon.

But is it not poiTible, that men who really
love truth, and are open to conviction, may
differ about firfl principles ?

I think it is poffible, and that it cannot,
without great v/ant of charity, be denied to
be pofTible.

When this happens, every man who believes
that there is a real diflinction between truth
and error, and that the faculties which God
has given us are not in their nature fallacious,
mufl be convinced that there is a defed:, or a
perverfion of judgment on the one fide or the
other.

A man of candour and humility will, in
fuch a cafe, very naturally fufpect his own
judgment, fo far as to be defirous to enter into
a ferious examination, even of what he has
long held as a firfl principle. He will think
it not impoffible, that although his heart be
upright, his judgment may have been pervert-
ed, by education, by authority, by party zeal,
or by fome other of the common caufes of
error, from the influence of which neither
parts nor integrity exempt the human under^
Handing.

In fuch a date of mind, fo amiable, and fo
becoming every good man, has Nature left
him deflitute of any rational means by which
he may be enabled, either to corredl his judg-
ment if it be wrong, or to confirm it if it be
right ?

I hope it is not fo. I hope that, by the
means which Nature has furnifhed, controver-

fies

©/FIRST PRINCIPLES In GENERAL. 251*

fies about firfl; principles may be brought to an C H A P.
iflue, and that the real lovers of truth may -^•
come to unanimity v,'ith regard to them. ' ^

It is true, that, in other controverfie$, the
procefs by which the truth of a propofitlon is
difcovered, or its falfehood detecled, is by
Ihevving its necelTary connedion with firfl prin-
ciples, or its repugnancy to them. It is true,
iikewife, that when tlie controverfy is, whether
a proportion be itfelf a firfl principle, this pro-
cefs cannot be applied. The truth, therefore,
in controverfies of this kind, labours under a
peculiar difadvantage. But it has advantages
of another kind to compenfate this.

I. For, in the Jir/i place, in fuch contro-
verfies, every man is a competent judge ; and
therefore it is difficult to impofe upon man-
kind.

To judge of firfl principles, requires no
more than a found mind free from prejudice,
and a diflinO: conception of the queflion. The
learned and the unlearned, the Philofopher
and the day-labourer, are upon a level, and
will pafs the fame judgment, when they are
not milled by fome bias, or taught to renounce
their underflanding from fome miilaken reli-
gious principle.

In matters beyond the reach of common un-
derflanding, the many are led by the few,
and wiUingly yield to their authority. But, in
matters of common fenfe, the few mufl yield
to the many, when local and temporary pre-
judices are removed. No man is now moved
by the fubtile arguments of Zeno againfl mo-
tion, though perhaps he knows not how to an-
fwer them.

The

352

ESSAY vr.

CHAP. The ancient fceptlcal fyftem furnlflies a re-
'^' markable inflance of this truth. That fyftem,

^-"^^^^^ of which Pyrrho was reputed the father, was
carried down, through a fucceffion of ages,
by very able and acute Philofophers, who
taught men to beUeve nothing at all, and
elteemed it the higheft pitch of human wifdom
to with-hold aflent from every propofition
whatfoever. It was fupported with very great
fubtilty and learning, as we fee from the wri-
tings of Sextus Empiricus, the only author
of that fe£l w^hofe writings have come down to
our age. The affault of the Sceptics againft
all fcience feems to have been managed with
more art and addrefs than the defence of the
Dogmatifts.

Yet, as this fyftem was an infult upon the
common fenfe of mankind, it died away of it-
IJelf ; and it would be in vain to attempt to re-
vive it. The modern fcepticifm is very differ-
ent from the ancient, otherwife it would not
have been allowed a hearing ; and, when it
has loll the grace of novelty, it will die away
alfo, though it fhould never be refuted.

The modern fcepticifm, I mean that of Mr.
KuME, is built upon principles which were
very generally maintained by Philofophers,
though they did not fee that they led to fcepti-
cifm. Mr. Hume, by tracing, with great
acutenefs and ingenuity, the confequences of
principles commonly received, has Ihewn that
they overturn all knowledge, and at laft over-
turn themfelves, and leave the mind in perfect
fufpenfe.

2. Secondly, We may obferve, that opinions
which contradict firft principles are diftinguifh-
ed from other errors by this ; that they are not
cnly falfe, but abfurd : And, to difcountenance

abfurdityj

Of FIRST PRINCIPLES in GENERAL. 253

abfurdity. Nature hath given us a particularC H A PJ"
emotion, to wit, that of ridicuie, which feems ^^•
intended for this very purpofe of putting out '~" '^
of countenance what is abfurd, either in opi-
nion or pra6lice.

This weapon, when properly applied, cuts
with as keen an edge as argument. Nature
hath furnifhed us with the firfl to expofe ab-
furdity ; as with the lafl to refute error. Both
are well fitted for their feveral offices, and are
equally friendly to truth when properly ufed.

Both may be abufed to ferve the caufe of
error : But the fame degree of judgment,
which ferves to deteft the abufe of argument
in falfe reafoning, ferves to dete6l the abufe of
ridicule when it is wrong dire6ted.

Some have from nature a happier talent for
ridicule than others ; and the fame thing holds
with regard to the talent of reafoning. Indeed,
I conceive there is hardly any abfurdity, which,
when touched with the pencil of a Lucian, at
Swift, or a Voltaire, would not be put out
of countenance, when there is not fome religi-
ous panic, or very powerful prejudice, to
blind the underftanding.

But it mufl be acknowledged, that the emo-
tion of ridicule, even when mod natural, may
be ftifled by an emotion of a contrary nature,
and cannot operate till that is removed.

Thus, if the notion of fanftity is annexed to
an objeft, it is no longer a laughable matter ;
and this vifor mud be pulled oft' before it ap-
pears ridiculous. Hence we fee, that notions
which appear mofh ridiculous to all who con-
fider them coolly and indifferently, have no
fuch appearance to thofe who never thought of
them, but under the impreffion of religious
awe and dread.

Even

254 ESSAY VI.

CHAP. Even where religion is not concerned, the
^^ ^ novelty of an opinion to thofe who are too fond
of novelties; the gravity and folemnity with
which it is introduced; the opinion we have
entertained of the author; its apparent con-
nection with principles already embraced, or
fubferviency to interefts which we have at
heart; and, above allj its being fixed in our
minds at that time of life when we receive im-
plicitly what we are taught ; may cover its ab-
furdity, and fafcinate the underflanding for a
time.

But if ever we are able to view it naked,
and dripped of thofe adventitious circumftan*
ces from which it borrowed its importance and
authority, the natural emotion of ridicule will
exert its force. An abfurdity can be enter-
tained by men of fenfe no longer than it w'ears
a maik. When any man is found who has the
(kill or the boldnels to pull off the ma(k, it
can no longer bear the light; it llinks into dark
corners for a while, and then is no more heard
of, but as an objed of ridicule.

Thus I conceive, that firli: principles, which
are really the diftates of common fenfe, and
directly cppofed to abfurdities in opinion, will
always, froui the conflitution of human na-
ture, fupport themfelves, and gain rather than
lofe ground smong mankind.

3. Thirdly, It may be obferved, that al-
though it is contrary to the nature of firft
principles to admit of diredt or apodidical
proof; yet there are certain v. ays cf reafoning
even about them, by w^hich thofe thrtt are juft
and folid may be confirmed, and thofe that are
falfe may be detected. It may here be proper

to

Of FIRST PRINCIPLES in GENERAL. 255

to mention fomc of the topics from which we ^ ^^ ^*
may reafon in matters of this kind. ^ "^

Firji, It is a good argument ad bominem, if
it can be (hewn, that a firft principle which a
man rejects, (lands upon the fame footing
with others v/hich he admits : For, when this
is the cafe, he mufl: be guilty of an incon-
fiftency who holds the one and rejeds the
other.

Thus the faculties of confcioufnefs, of me-
mory, of external fenfe, and of reafon, are
all equally the gifts of Nature. No good rea-
fon can be aihgned for receiving the teftimony
of one of them, which is not of equal force
with regard to the others. The greateft Scep-
tics admit the teftimony of confcioufnefs, and
allow, that what it teftifies is to be held as a
firft principle. If therefore they rejeO: the
immediate teftimony of fenfe, or of memory,
they are guilty of an inconfiftency.

Secondly^ A firft principle may admit of a
proof ad ahfurdum.

In this kind of proof, which is very common
in mathematics, we fuppofe the contradictory
proportion to be true. We trace the confe-
quences of that fuppofition in a train of rea-
foning; and if we find any of its neceifary
confequences to be manifeftly abfurd, we con-
clude the fuppofition from which it followed
to be falfe j and therefore its contradi6tory to
be true.

There is hardly any propofition efpecially of
thofe that may claim the character of firft prin-
ciples, that ftands alone and unconnefted-
It draws many others along with it in a chain
that cannot be broken. He that takes it up
muft bear the burden of all its confequences ;

and

256 £ S S A Y VI.

CHAP, and if that is too heavy for him to bear, he
■ muft not pretend to take it up.
^^^^^^"^ Thirdly^ 1 conceive, that the confent of ages
and nations, of the learned and unlearned,
ought to have great authority vi^ith regard to
firft principles, where every man is a compe-
tent judge.

Our ordinary conduft in life is built upon
firft principles, as well as our fpeculations in
philofophy ; and every motive to adion fup-
pofes fome belief. When we find a general
agreement among men, in principles that con-
cern human life, this mufl have great autho-
rity with every fober mind that loves truth.

Tt is pleafant to obferve the fruitlefs pains
which Bifhop Berkeley takes to fhew, that
his fyftem of the non-exiftence of a material
world did not contradidl the fentiments of
the vulgar, but thofe only of the Philofophers.

With good reafon he dreaded more to op*
pofe the authority of vulgar opinion in a mat-
ter of this kind, than all the fchools of Philo-
fophers*

Here perhaps it will be faid. What has au-
thority to do in matters of opinion? Is truth
to be determined by moft votes ? Or is autho-
rity to be again raifed out of its grave to ty-
rannife over mankind ?

I am aware that, in this age, an advocate
for authority has a very unfavourable plea;
but I willi to give no more to authority than is
its due.

Moft juftly do we honour the names of thofe
benefadors to mankind who have contributed
more or lefs to break the yoke of that autho-
rity which deprives men of the natural, the
unalienable right of judging for themfelves;

but

0/ FIRST IPRINCIPLES in GENERAL. 557

but while we Indulge a jufl animofity againftC HAP.
this authority, and againfl all who would fub- ^^•
jed us to its tyranny, let us remember how ^"'"''''''^
comnlon the folly is, of going from one faulty
extreme into the oppofite.

Authority, though a very tyrannical miflrefs
to private judgment, may yet, on fome occa-
fions, be a ufeful handmaid ; this is all flie is
entitled to, and this is all I plead in her behalf.

The juftice of this plea will appear by put-
ting a cafe in a fcience, in which, of all fci-
€nces, authority is acknowledged to have lead
Weight.

Suppofe a Mathematician has made a difco-^
Very in that fcience which he thinks important 5
that he has put his demonftration in juft order;
and, after examining it with an attentive eye,
has found no flaw in it; I would afk, Will
there not be ft ill in his breaft fome diffidence,
fome jcaloufy leaft the ardour of invention
may have made him overlook fome falfc ftep?
This muft be granted.

He commits his demonftration to the exa-
mination of a mathematical friend, whom he
cfteems a competent judge, and waits v/ith im-
patience the iflue of his judgment* Here I
would alk again. Whether the verdid of his
friend, according as it is favourable or un-
favourable, will not greatly increafe or dimi-
nifli his confidence in his own judgment t Moft
certainly it will, and it ought.

If the judgment of his friend agree with his
own, efpecially if it be confirmed by two or
three able judges, he refts fecure of his difco-
very without farther examination; but if it be
unfavourable, he is brought back into a kind
of fufpenfe, until the part that is fufpeded un-

Vol. II« S dergoes

258 ESSAY VI.

CHAP, dergoes a new and a more rigorous exami-
^^- nation.

'"'^^ 1 hope what is fuppofed in this cafe is agree-
able to nature, and to the experience of candid
and modeft men on fuch occafions ; yet here
we fee a man's judgment, even in a mathema-
tical demonftration, confcious of fome feeble-
nefs in itfelf, feeking the aid of authority to
fupport it, greatly flrengthened by that authori-
ty, and hardly able to ftand eredt againft it,
without fome new aid.

Society in judgment, of thofe who are ef-
teemed fair and competent judges, has effects
very fimilar to thofe of civil fociety ; it gives
flrength and courage to every individual; it
removes that timidity which is as naturally the
companion of folitary judgment, as of a foli-
tary man in the ftate of nature.

Let us judge for ourfelves therefore, but let
us not difdain to take that aid from the autho-*'
rity of other competent judges, which a Ma-
thematician thinks it necelfary to take in that
fcience, which of all fciences has lead to do
with authority.

In a matter of common fenfe, every man is
no lefs a competent judge than a Mathemati-
cian is in a mathematical demonftration; and
there mud be a great prefumption that the
judgment of mankind, in fuch a matter, is
the natural ifl'ue of thofe faculties which God
hath given them. Such a judgment can be
erroneous only when there is fome caufe of the
error, as general as the error is : When this
can be ihewn to be the cafe, I acknowledge it
ought to have its due weight. But to fuppofe
a general deviation from truth among man-
kind in things felf-evident, of which no caufe
can be afligned, is highly unreafonable.

Perhaps

0/ FIRST PRINCIPLES in GENERAL. 259

Perhaps it may be thought impoffible to col-^ HAP.
Ie6t the general opinion of men upon any point ^.,.^-^
whatfoever ; and therefore, that this authority
can ferve us in no (lead in examining firft
principles. But I apprehend, that in many ca-
fes this is neither impoffible nor difficult.

Who can doubt whether men have univer-
fally believed the exiftence of a material world ?
Who can doubt whether men have univerfally
believed, that every change that happens in
nature mufh have a caufe ? Who can doubt
•whether men have univerfally believed, that
there is a right and a wrong in human condudl ;
fome things that merit blame, and others
that are entitled to approbation ?

The univerfality of thefe opinions, and of
many fuch that might be named, is fufficiently
evident, from the whole tenor of human con-
du£l;, as far as our acquaintance reaches, and
from the hiftory of all ages and nations of
which we have any records.

There are other opinions that appear to be
iiniverfal, from what is common in the ftruc-
ture of all languages.

Language is the exprefs image and picture
bf human thoughts ; and from the picture we
may draw fome certain conclufions concerning
the original;

We find in all languages the fame parts of
fpeech ; we find nouns, fubftantive and ad-
jective ; verbs, adive and paffive, ill their va-
rious tenfes, numbers, and moods. Some
rules of fyntax are the fame in all languages.

Now what is common in the ftructure of
languages, indicates an uniformity of opinion
in thofe things upon which that ftrudure is
grounded.

S 2 The

25o ESSAY VI.

The diflintlion between fubflances, and tfi^
qualities belonging to them ; between thought,
and the being that thinks ; between thought^
and the objects of thought j is to be found in
the ftrufture of all languages : And therefore^
fyflems of philofophy, which abolifh thofe dif-
tinciions, wage war with the common fenfe of
mankind.

We are apt to imagine, that thofe who for-
med languages were no Metaphyficians ; but
the firft principles of ail fciences are the dic-
tates of common fenfe, and he open to all
men ; and every man who has confidered the
llrudlure of language in a philofophical lights
will find infallible proofs that thofe who have
framed it, and thofe who ufe it with under-
ftanding, have the power of making accurate
diflinctions, and of forming general concepti-
ons, as well as Philofophers. Nature has gi-
yen Chofe powers to all men, and they can ufe
them when their occafions require it ; but they
leave it to thePhilofophers to give names to themy.
and to defcant upon their nature. In like man-
ner. Nature has given eyes to all men, and
they can make good ufe of them ; but the
flrudure of the eye, and the theory of vifion^
is the bufmefs of Philofophers.

Fourthly, Opinions that appear fo early ir^
the minds of men, that they cannot be the ef-
fect of education, or of falie reafoning, have a
good claim to be confidered as firft principles*
Thus the behef we have, that the perfons about
us are living and intelligent beings, is a behef
for which perhaps we can give fome reafon,
when we are able to reafon ; but we had thi&
belief before we could reafon, and before we
could learn it by inftrudion. It feems there-
fore

Of FIRST PRINCIPLES in GENERAL. 261

fore to be an Immediate efFed: of our conftitu-C H A 1
tion. ^ ^ IV.

The /aj} topic I fhall mention Is, when an ^"-"^''''^
opinion is fo necelTary in the condud of life,
that without the belief of it, a man mad be
led Into a thoufand abfurditles in praQice,
fuch an opinion, when we can give no other
reafon for it, may lafely be taken for a firft
principle-

Thus I have endeavoured to fliew, that al-
though firil principles are not capable of direft
proof, yet diiferences, that may happen with
regard to them among men of candour, arc
not without remedy ; that Nature has not left
us deftltute of means by which we may difco-
ver errors of this kind ; and that there arc
ways of reafoning, with regard to firfl; princi-
ples, by which thofe that are truly fuch may
be diftinguilhed from vulgar errors or prejudi-
ces.

CHAP.

26z ESSAY VL

CHAP. V.

The firjl Principles of contingent Truths.

SURELY, fays Bifliop Berkeley, it
is a work well deferving our pains, to
" make a flrift enquiry concerning the firfl
" principles of knowledge ; to fift and exa-
" mine them on all fides." What was faid in
the laft chapter, is intended both to fliew the
importance of this enquiry, and to make it
more eafy.

But, in order that fuch an enquiry may be
aftually made, it is neceffary that the firfl
principles of knowledge be diftinguifhed from
other truths, and presented to view, that they
may be fifted and examined on all fides. In
order to this end, I fhall attempt a detail of
thofe I take to be fuch, and of the reafons why
I think them entitled to that character.

If the enumeration fliould appear to fome
redundant, to others deficient, and to others
both ; if things, which I conceive to be firfl
principles, fliould to others appear to be vul-
gar errors, or to be truths which derive their
evidence from other truths, and therefore
not firfl principles ; in thefe things every man
mufl judge for himfelf. I fliall rejoice to
fee an enumeration more perfe6l in any or in
all of thofe refpeds ; being perfuaded, that
the agreement of men of judgment and can-
dour in firil principles, would be of no lefs
confequence to the advancement of knowledge
in general, than the agreement of Mathemati-
' ■ cians

Ttrji Principles of Contingent Truths. 263

clans in the axioms of geometry has been toCH AP.
the advancement of that fcience. V.

The truths that fall within the compafs of "">'' ■*

human knowledge, whether they be felf-evi-
dent, or deduced from thofe that are felf-evi-
dent, may be reduced to two clafies. They
are either necelfary and immutable truths,
whofe contrary is impollible, or they are con-
tingent and mutable, depending upon fome
effe£t of will and power, which had a begin-
ning, and may have an end.

That a cone is the third part of a cylinder of
the fame bafe and the fame altitude, is a ne-
ceffary truth. It depends not upon the will
and power of any being. It is immutably true,
and the contrary impoflible. That the fun is *
the centre, about which the earth, and the
other planets of our fyftem, perform their re-
volutions, is a truth ; but it is not a neceifary
truth. It depends upon the power and will of
that Being who made the fun and all the pla-
nets, and who gave them thofe motions that
feemed beft to him.

If all truths were neceflary tr-uths, there
would be no occafion for different tenfes in
the verbs by which they are expreffed. What
is true in the prefent time, would be true in
the paft and future ; and there would be no
change or variation of any thing in nature.

We ufe the prefent tenfe in expreffmg necef-
fary truths ; but it is only becaufe there is no
^exion of the verb which includes all times.
When I fay that three is the half of fix, I ufe
the prefent tenfe only ; but I mean to exprefs
not only what now is, but what always was,
and always will be ; and fo every propofition
is to be underftood by which we mean to exr

prefs

204 E S S A Y VI.

CHAP, prefs a neceflary truth. Contingent truths are
• of another nature. As they are mutable, they
may be true at one time, and not at another ;
and therefore the expreffion of them muil in-
clude fomc point or period of time.

If language had been a contrivance of Phi-
lofophers, they ^vould probably have given
fome flexion to the indicative mood of verbs,
which extended to all times part, prefent, and
future ; for fuch a flexion only would be fit to
exprefs neceflary proportions, which have na
relation to time. But there is no language, as
far as I know, in which fuch a flexion of verbs
is to be found. Becaufe the thoughts and dif-
courfe of men are feldcm employed about ne-.
cefl^ary truths, but commonly about fuch as are
contingent ; languages are fitted to exprefs
the laft rather than the firft.

The difliinftion commonly made between
abft:ra6l truths, and thofe that exprefs matters
of faft, or real exifliences, coincides in a great
meafure, but not altogether, with that between
neceffary and contingent truths. Thenecef-
fary truths that fall within our knowledge are
for the mofl: part abfl:rafl: truths. We mufl^ ex-
cept the exiftence and nature of the Supreme
Being, which is neceflary. Other exigences
are the eff"eds of will and power. They had
a beginning, and are mutable. Their nature
is fuch as the Supreme Being was pleafed to
give them. Their attributes and relations
mud depend upon the nature God has given
them ; the powers with which he has endowed
them ; and the fituation in which he hath pla-
ced them.

The conclufions deduced by reafoning from
firfl: principles, will commonly be neceflary or.

contingents^

Tirfl Pnndples of Contingent Truths* 265

contingent, according as the principles areCHAP.
from which they are drawn. On the one ^_,_^I...^
hand, 1 take it to be certain, that whatever
^an, by juft reafoning, be inferred from a
principle that is necelTary, mnfl: be a nece0ary
truth, and that no contingent truth can be in-,
ferred from principles that are neceffary.

Thus, as the axioms in mathematics are all '
neceflary truths : fo are all the conclufions
drawn from them ; that is, the whole body of
that fcience. But from no mathematical truth ^
can we deduce the exiflence of any thing 5
not even of the objects of the fcience.

On the other hand, I apprehend there are
very few cafes in which we can, from princi*
pies that are contingent, deduce truths that
lire neceffary. I can only recoiled one inftance
of this kind, namely, that, from the exiflence
of things contingent and mutable, we can in*
fer the exiftence of an immutable and eternal
caufe of them.

As the minds of men are occupied much
more about truths that are contingent than
about thofe that are neceffary, I fliall firft en-
deavour to point out the principles of the for-
mer kind.

I. Fi7-yi, then, I hold, as a firff principle,
the exiftence of every thing of which I am con-
fcious.

Confcioufnefs is an operation of the under*
(landing of its own kind, and cannot be logi-
cally defined. The objefts of it are our prefent
pains, our pleafures, our hopes, our fears,
our defires, our doubts, our thoughts of every ^
kind ; in a word, all the paffions, ^nd all the
aftions and operations of our own minds,
\vhile they are prefent. We may remember

them

%6S ESSAY VI.

CHAP, them when they are paft ; but we are confci-
"• ous of them only while they are prefent.

When a man is confcious of pain, he Is cer-
tain of its exiftence ; when he is confcious that
he doubts, or believes, he is certain of the ex-
iftence of thofe operations.

But the irrefiftible convidlion he has of the
reality of thofe operations is not the efFe£t of
reafoning ; it is immediate and intuitive.
The exiftence therefore of thofe paftions and
operations of our minds, of which we are
confcious, is a firft principle, which Nature
requires us to believe upon her authority.

If I am afked to prove that I cannot be de-
ceived by confcioufnefs ; to prove that it is not
a fallacious fenfe ; I can find no proof. I can-
not find any antecedent truth from which it is
deduced, or upon which its evidence depends.
It feems to difdain any fuch derived authority,
and to claim my affent in its own right.

If any man could be found fo frantic as to
deny that he thinks, while he is confcious of it;
I may wonder, I may laugh, or I may pity
^lim, but I cannot reafon the matter with him.
We have no common principles from which
we may reafon, and therefore can never join
iftue in an argument.

This, I think, is the only principle of com-
mon fenfe that has never dire6lly been called
in queftion. It feems to be fo firmly rooted in
the minds of men, as to retain its authority
with the greateft Sceptics. Mr. Hume, after
annihilating body and mind, time and fpace,
aftion and caufation, and even his own mind,
acknowledges the reaUty of the thoughts, fen-r
i^itions and paftions of which he is confcious.

No

Tirfi Principles of CoJiiingent Truths, 267

No Philofopher has attempted by any hypo- CHAP,
thefis to account for this confcioufiiefs of our ^*
own thoughts, and the certain knowledge of
their real exiftence which accompanies it. By
this they feem to acknowledge, that this at
lead is an original power of the mind; a power
by which we not only have ideas, but original
judgments, and the knowledge of real exifv
tence.

I cannot reconcile this immediate knowledge
of the operations of our own minds with Mr.
Locke's theory, that all knowledge confifls in
perceiving the agreement and difagreement of
ideas. What are ideas, from whofe compari-
fon the knowledge of our own thoughts re-
fults? Or what are the agreements or difagree-
ments which convince a man that he is in pain
when he feels it ?

Neither can I reconcile it with Mr. Hume's
theory, that to believe the exiftence of any
thing, is nothing elfe than to have a ftrong and
lively conception of it ; or, at moft, that belief
is only fome modification of the idea which is
theobje£t of belief. For not to mention, that
propofitions, not ideas, are the objeft of be-
lief; in all that variety of thoughts and paffions,
of which we are confcious, we believe the ex-
iftence of the weak as well as of the ftrong,
the faint as well as the lively. No modificati-
on of the operations of our minds difpofes us
to the leaft doubt of their real exiftence.

As therefore the real exiftence of our
thoughts, and of all the operations and feelings
of our own minds, is believed by all men; as
we find ourfelves incapable of doubting it, and
as incapable of offering any proof of it, it
may juflly be confidercd as a firft principle, or
dictate of common fenfe.

But

a68 E S S A y VI.

CHAP, But although this principle refts upon no
^' other, a very confiderable and important
^^""^^"^ branch of human knowledge refls upon it.

For from this fource of confcioufnefs is de-
rived all that we know, and indeed all that we
can know, of the ftrudur'e, and of the powers
of our own minds; from which we may con-
clude, that there is no branch of knowledge
that {lands upon a firmer foundation ; for fure-
ly no kind of evidence can go beyond that of
confcioufnefs.

How does it come to pafs then, that in this
branch of knowledge there are fo many and fo
contrary fyftems ? fo many fubtile controvcrfies
that are never brought to an ilTue, and fo little
fixed and determined? Is it poffible that Phi-
lofophers fhould differ mofl where they have
the fureft means of agreement? where every
thing is built upon a fpecies of evidence which
fill men acquiefce in, and hold to be the moft
certain?

This ftrangc phasnomenon may, I think,
be accounted for, if we diftinguifh between
confcioufnefs and refledion, which are often
improperly confounded.

The firft is common to all men at all times,
but is infufficient of itfelf to give us clear and
diftind notions of the operations of which we
are confcious, and of their mutual relations,
and minute diflindions. The fecond, to wit,
attentive refledion upon thofe operations,
making them objeds of thought, furveying
them attentively, and examining them on all
fides, is fo far from being common to all men,
that it is the lot of very few. The greateft
part of men, either through want of capacity,
or from other caufcs, never refled attentively

upon

Firjl Principles of Contingent Truthu i6g

upon the operations of their own minds. The CHAP,
habit of this reflection, even in thofe whom ^'
Nature has fitted for it, is not to be attained
without much pains and pradice.

Wc can know nothing of the immediate ob-
jedls of fight, but by the teftimony of our
eyes; and I apprehend, that if mankind had
found as great difficulty in giving attention to
the objeds of fight, as they find in attentive
reflection upon the operations of their own
minds, our knowledge of the firft might have
been in as backward a flate as our knowledge
of the lafl.

But this darknefs will not laft for ever-
Light will arife upon this benighted part of the
intelledual globe. When any man is fo happy
as to deUneate the powers of the human mind
as they really are in nature, men that are free
from prejudice, and capable of refledion, will
recognife their own features in the pidure ; and
then the wonder will be, how things fo obvious
could be fo long wrapped up in myilery and
darknefs; how men could be carried away by
falfe theories and conjedures, when the truth
was to be found in their own breafls if they
had but attended to it.

2. Another firft principle, I think, is. That
the thoughts of which I am confcious, are the
thoughts of a being which I call my f elf my
mind^ my per/on.

The thoughts and feelings of which we arc
confcious are continually changing, and the
thought of this moment is not the thought of
the laft; but fomething which I call myfelf,
remains under this change of thought. This
felf has the fame relation to all the fucceffive
thoughts I am confcious of, tjiey are all my

thoughts;

2^e( E S S A Y VL

C hA P. thoughts ; and every thought which is not my
thought, mud be the thought of fome other
peifon.

If any man afks a proof of this, I confefs I
can give none ; there is an evidence in the
propofition itfelf which I am unable to refift.
Shall I think, that thought can ftand by itfelf
without a thinking being? or that ideas can
feel pleafureor pain? My nature dictates to me
that it is impofiible;

And that Nature has dictated the fame to all
men, appears from the ftru£ture of all lan-
guages: For in all languages men have ex-
prefled thinkhig, reafoning, willing, loving,
hating, by perfonal verbs, which from their
nature require a perfon who thinks, reafons,
wills, loves, or hates. From which it ap-
pears, that men have been taught by Nature
to believe that thought requires a thinker, rea-
fon a reafoner, and love a lover.

Here we muft leave Mr. Hume, who con-
ceives it to be a vulgar error, that befides the
thoughts we are confcious of, there is a mind
which is the fubject of thofe thoughts. If the
mind be any thing elfe than impreffions and
ideas, it muft be a word without a meaning.
The mind therefore, according to this Philofo-
pher, is a word \vhich fignifies a bundle of per-
ceptions, or, w^hen he defines it more accu-
rately, " It is that fucccffion of related ideas
*' and imprelhons, of which we have an inti-
" mate memory and confcioufnefs.'*

I am. therefore, that fucccffion of related
ideas and impreiTions of which I have the inti-
mate memory and confcioufnefs^

But who is the / that has this memory and
eonfcioufnefs of a fucceffion of ideas and im-
preffions ?

lirjl Principles of Contingent Truths. 'i'-j\

preflions? Why, it is nothing but that fuccef-C H A P.
fionitfelf. ^ ^ u.JL^

Hence f learn, that this fucceffion of ideas "^
and impreffions intimately remembers, and is
confcious of itfelf. I would wifli to be farther
inftrudled, whether the impreffions remember
and are confcious of the ideas, or the ideas re-
member and are confcious of the impreffions,
or if both remember and are confcious of both?
and whether the ideas remember thofe that
come after them, as well as thofe that were
before them ? Thefe are queflions naturally
arifmg from this fyllem, that have not yet
been explained.

This, however, is clear, that this fucceffiort
of ideas and impreffions, not only remembers
and is confcious, but that it judges, reafonsj
affirms, denies ; nay, that it eats and drinks,
and is fometimes merry, and fometimes fad.

If thefe things can be afcribed to a fucceffiort.
of ideas and impreffions, in a confiftency with
common fenfe, 1 ffiould be very glad to know
what is nonfenfe.

The fcholaftic Philofophers have been wit-
tily ridiculed, by reprefenting them as difpu-
ting upon this queflion, 'Nam cbim^era bo?nbi'
nans in 'uacuo pojjit comedere fecundas intcntiones f
and I believe the wit of man cannot invent a
more ridiculous queftion. But, if Mr. Hume*s
philofophy be admitted, this queftion deferves
to be treated more gravely : For if, as we learri
from this philofophy, a fucceffion of ideas and
impreffions may eat, and drink, and be merry,
I fee no good reafon why a chimera, which if
not the fame, is of kin to an idea, may not
chew the cud upon that kind of food, which
the fchoolmen call fecond intentions.

3. Another

CHAP. -^. Another firfl: principle I take to be, That
t^r^J-^^, thofe things did really happen which I diftindt*
ly remember.

This has one of the fureft mark§ of a firfl
principle ; for no man ever pretended to prove
it, and yet no man in his wits calls it hi quef*
tion ; the tcftimony of memory, like that of
confcic. ufnefs, is immediate; it claims our af-
fent upon its own authority.

Suppofe t-!.at a learned counfel, in defence
of a client aaainf!: the concurring teftimony of
"Witnefles of credit, fbould infill upon a new
topic to invalidate the teftimony. " Admit-
" ting,'* fays he, " the integrity of the wit*
*' neiles, and that they diftinftly remember
*' what they have given in evidence ; it does
*' not follow that the prifoner is guilty. It
" has never been proved that the moft diftin(S
*' memory may not be fallacious. Shew me
*' any necelfary connedion between that aft
" of the mind which we call memory, and the
" paft exiftence of the event remembered-
*' No man has ever offered a fhadow of argu*
*' ment to prove fuch a connection ; yet this
" is one link of the chain of proof againft the
" prifoner ; and if it have no ftrength, the
•* whole proof falls to the ground : Until thi^,
" therefore, be made evident, until it can be
" proved, that we may fafdy reft upon the
" teftimony of memory for the truth of paft
" events, no judge or jury can juftly mke
" away the life of a citizen upon fo doubtful
" a point.'*

I believe we may take it for granted, that
this argument from a learned counfel would
have no other eiTed upon the judge or jury,
than to convince them that he was difordered

in

Firji Prindpfes of Contingent Truths, 273

in his judgment. Counfel is allowed to plead C H A P.
every thing for a client that is fit to perfuade
or to move ; yet I believe no counfel ever had
the boldnefs to plead this topic. And for v/hat
reafon ? For no other reafon, furely, but be-
caufe it is abfurd. Now, what is abfurd at
the bar, is foin the Philofopher's chair. V/hat
would be ridiculous, if delivered to a jury of
honefl fenfibie citizens, is no lefs fo when de-
livered gravely in a philorophical dilfertation*

Mr. HuPviE has not, as far as I remember,
directly called inqueflion the tedimony of me-
mory ; but he has laid dov»'n the premifes
by which its authority is overturned, leaving
it to his reader to draw the conclufion.

He labours to ftew, that the belief or aflent
which always attends the memory and fenfes
is nothing but the vivacity of thofe perceptions
which they prefent. He ftiews very clearly,
that this vivacity gives no ground to believe
the exiftence of external objects. And it is
obvious, that it can give as httle ground to ^
believe the pad exiftence of the objeds of me-
mory.

Indeed the theory concerning ideas, fo gene-
rally receivc'd by Philofophers, deflroys all the
authority of memory, as well as the authority of
the fenfes. Des Cartes, Maleeranche, and
Locke, were aware that this theory made it
neceifary for them to find out arguments to
prove the exiftence of external objeds, which
the vulgar believe upon the bare authority of
their fenfes ; but thofe Philofophers were not
aware, that this theory made it equally nccef-
fary for them to find arguments to prove the

exiitence

Vol. ir. T

274

ESSAY. VI.

C HA P. exiflence of things paft, which we remember,

^* and to fupport the authority of memory.
^"^^^^^'^^ All the arguments they advanced to fupport
the authority of our fenfes, were eafily refuted
by Bifhop Berkeley and Mr. Hume, being
indeed very weak and inconclufive. And it
would have been as eafy to anfwer every ar-
gum.ent they could have brought, confident
with their theory, to fupport the authority of
memory.

For, according to that theory, the immedi-
ate objed: of memory, as well as of every other
operation of the underftanding, is an idea pre-
fent in the mind. And, from the prefent ex-
iftence of this idea of memory I am left to in-
fer, by reafoning, that fix months, or fix
years ago, there did exift an objecl fimilar to
this idea.

But what is there in the idea that can lead
me to this conclufion ? What mark does it
bear of the date of its archetype ? Or what
evidence have I that it had an archetype, and
that it is not the firfl of its kind ?

Perhaps it will be faid, that this idea or
image in the mind mud have had a caufe.

1 admit, that if there is fuch an image in the
mind it muft have had a caufe, and a caufe
able to produce the effect ; but what can we
infer from its having a caufe ? Does it follow
that the efFeft is a type, an image, a copy of
its caufe ? Then it will foUovv^, that a pidure
is an image of the painter, ^nd a coach of the
coach-maker.

A pad event may be knov/n by reafoning,
but that is not remembering it. When I re-
member a thing didindlly, I difdain equally to
hear reafons for it or againd it. And fo I
think does every man in his fenfes.

4. Ano-

Firji Principles of Contingent Truths. 275

4. Another firil principle is our own per-C H A P.
Ibnal identity and continued exiftence, as far •
back as we remember any thing diliindly.

This we know immediately, and not by
realbning. It feems, indeed, to be a part of
the teflimony of memory. Every thing we
remember has fuch a relation to ourfelves, as
to imply neceflarily our exiftence at the time
remembered. And there cannot" be a more
palpable abfurdity than that a man (hould re-
member what happened before he exilled.
He mull therefore have exiited as far back as
he remembers any thing diftin6.1y, if his
memory be not fallacious. This principle,
therefore, is fo connefted with the lafl men-
tioned, that it may be doubtful whether both
ought not to be included inone. Let every
one judge of this as he fees reafon. The pro-
per notion of identity, and'the fentiments of
Mr. Locke on this fubjed, have been confi--
dered before under the head of memory.

5. Another hrft principle is, That thofe things
do really exift which we diftinftly perceive by
our fenfes, and are what we perceive them to
be.

It is too evident to need, proof, that all men
are by nature led to give implicit faith to the
diftin<9: teftimony of their fenfes, long before
they are capable of any bias ftom prejudices of
education or of philofbphy.

How came we at firfl to know that there are
certain beings about us whom we call father,
and mother, and fifters, and brothers, and
nurfe ? Was it not by the teftimony of our
fenfes ? How did thefe perfons, convey to
us any information or inflruftion ? Was it not
by means of our fenfes ?

T 2 It

1-]^ ESSAY VI.

It is evident we can have no communication,
no correfpordence or fociety with any created
being, but by means of our fenfes. And un-
til we rely upon their teftimony, we muft con-
fider ourfelves as being alone in the univerfe,
without any fellow-creature, living or inani-
mate, and be left to converfe with our
own thoughts.

Bifhop Berkeley furely did not duly con-
fider, that it is by means of the material world
that we have any correfpondence with thinking
beings, or any knowledge of their exiftcnce,
and that by depriving us of the material world,
he deprived us at the fame time of family,
friends, country, and every human creature ;
of every objecl of affection, efteem or concern,
except ourfelves.

The good Bifliop furely never intended this.
He was too warm a friend, too zealous a pa-
triot, and too good a Chriftian, to be capable
of fuch a thought. He was not aware of the
confequences of his fyftem, and therefore they
ought not to be imputed to him ; but we muft
im.pute them to the fyftem itfelf. It ftifies
evei*}' generous and fecial principle.

When I confider myfelf as fpeaking to men
who hear me, and can judge of what I fay, I
feel that refpe^ which is due to fuch an au-
dience. I feel an enjoyment in a reciprocal
communication of fentiments with candid and
ingenious friends, and my foul bleffes the Au-
thor of my being, who has made me capable
of this manly and rational entertainment.

But the Bifhop fhev/s me, that this is all a
dream ; that I fee not a human face ; that all
the objeds I fee, and hear, and handle, are
only th« ideas of my own mind ; ideas are my

only

Firji Principles of Contingent Truths. 277

only companions. Cold company, indeed ! C H A. P.
Every Ibcial affedlion freezes at the thought ! "^ •

But, my Lord Bifhop, are there no minds ^~^~^
left in the univerfe but my own ?

Yes, indeed ; it is only the material world
that is annihilated j every thing eife remains as
it was,

This feems to promife fome comfort in m.y
forlorn folitude. But do I fee thofe minds ?
No. Do I fee their ideas ? No. Nor do they
fee me or my ideas. They are then no more
to me than the inhabitants of Solomon's ifles,
or of the moon ; and my melancholy folitude
returns. Every focial tie is broken j and every
focial affedion is ftifled.

This difmal fyftem, which, if it could be
believed, would deprive men of every focial
comfort, a very good Bifhop, by ftritl and ac-
curate reafoning, deduced from the principles
commonly received by Philofophers concerning
ideas. The fault is not in the reafoning;, but
m the prmciples from which it is drawn.

All the arguments urged by Berkeley and
Hume againlf the ^xiftence of a material world
are grounded upon this principle. That we do
not perceive external objects themfelves, but
certain images or ideas in our own minds.
But this is no dictate of common lenfe, but
directly contrary to the fenfe of all who have
not been taught it by philofophy.

We have before examined the reafons given
by Philofophers, to prove that ideas, and not
external objects, are the immediate objects of
perception, and the inflances given to prove
the fenfes fallacious. Without repeating what
has before been faid upon thofe points, we
fliall only here obferve, that if externid objects

be

278 E S S A Y VI.

CHAP, be perceived immediately, w« have the lame
reafon to believe their exidence as Phuofo-
phers have to believe the exjlience ot ideas,
while they h'4d ttiem to be the immediate
obje£ls of perception.

6. Another firft principle, I think, is^ That
we have fome degree of power over our ani-
ons, and the determinations of our will.

All power mull be derived from the fountain
of power, and of every good gift. Upon his
good pkafure its continuiince depends, and it
is always fubjecl to his control.

Beings to whom God has given any degre-e
of power, and underftanding to direct them to
the proper ufc of it, mull be accountable to
their Maker. But thofe who are intrufted
•y^ ith no power, can have no account to make ;
for all good conduCl confifts in the right ufe
of power ; all bad conduct in the abufe of
it.

To call to account a being who never was
intrufted with any degree of power, is an ab-
furdity no lefs than it would be to call to ac-
count an inanimate being. We are fure,
therefore, if we have any account to make to
the Author of our being, that we muft have
fome degree of power, which, as far as it is
properly ufcd, entitles us to his approbation ;
and, when abufed, renders us obnoxious to
his difpieafure.

It is not eafy to fay in what way we firft get
the notion or idea of power. It is neither an
object of fenfe nor of confcioufnefs. We fee
event?, one fucccedliig another ; but we fee
not the powder by which they are produced.
W^e are confcious of the operations of our
minds ; but power is not an operation of mind.

If

Firjl Principles of Contingent Truths, 279

If we had no notions but fuch as are furniflied^ ^^ ^•
by the external fenfes, and by confcioufnefs, ' ^ ^
it feems to be impollible that we fiiouid ever
have anv conception of power. Accordingly,
Mr. Hume, who has reafoned the mod accu-
rately upon this hypothefis, denies that we have
any idea of power, and clearly refutes the ac-
count given by Mr. Locke of the origin of
this idea.

But it is in vain to reafon from a hypothefis
againft a faQ:, the truth of which every man
may fee by attending to his own thoughts. It
is evident, that all men, very early in Hfe, not
only have an idea of power, but a convittion
that they have Ibme degree, of it in themfelves :
For this conviftion is necefl'arily implied in
many operations of mind, which are familiar
to every man, and without which no man can
ad: the part of a reafonable being.

Firji^ It is implied in every a61: of vohtion.
" Volition, it is plain, fays Mr. Locke, is an
" act of the mind, knowingly exerting that
*' dominion which it takes itfelf to have over
" any part of the man, by employing it in, or
" with-holding it from any particular action."
Every volition, therefore implies a conviction
ot power to do the action willed. A man may
defire to make a vifit to the moon, or to the
planet Jupiter ; but nothing but infanity could
make him v/iil to do fo. And if even iniaility
produced this effect, it miift be by making
him think it to be in his power.

Secondly^ This conviction is implied in all
deliberation ; for no man in his wits deliberates
whether he fhail do what he believes not to be
in his power. TIArdly^ The fame conviction
is implied in every refclution or purpofe formed'

111

2.So ESSAY VI.

C h A P. in confequence of deliberation. A man may
^- as well form a refoiution to pull the moon out
'^ "^""'of her iphere, ns to do the mod infignifi-
cant a£lion which he believes not to be in his
poV'*er. The fame thing may be laid of every
promife or contra'3: wherein a man plights his
faith ; for he is not an honeft: man who pro-
mifes what he does not believe he has power to
perform.

As thefe operations imply a belief of fome
degree of power in ourfelves ; fo there are
others equally common and familiar, v/hich
imply a like behef with regard to others.

V/hen we impute to a man any action or
omiiTion, as a ground of approbation or of
blame, we mud believe he had power to do
otherwlfe. The fame is implied in all advice,
exhortation, command, and rebuke, and in
every cafe, in which we rely upon his fidelity
in performing any engagement, or executing
any trufl.

It is not more evident that mankind have a
conviQion of the exiftence of a material world,
than that they have the conviction of fome de-
gree of povver in themfelves, and in others ;
every one over his own actions, and the deter-
minations of his will : A conviction fo early,
fo general, and fo interwoven with the whole
of human conduct, that it mud be the natural
efFe£t of our conditution, and intended by
the Author of our being to guide our actions.

It refembles our conviction of the exidence
of a material world in this refpect alfo, that
even thofe who rejeft it in fpeculation, find
themfelves under a necefTity of being governed
by it in their practice ; and thus it will always
happen when philofophy contradicts firft prin-
ciples.

7. Ano-

Firjt Principles of Contingent Truths. 281

7. Another firfl principle is, That the na- C H A P.
tural faculties, by which we diftinguifh truth
from error, are not fallacious. If any man
fliould demand a proof of this, it is impollible
to fatisfy him. For fuppofe it fhould be ma-
thematically demonftrated, this would fignify
nothing in this cafe ; becaufe, to judge of a
demonftration, a man muft truft his faculties,
and take for granted the very thing in queftion.

If a man's honefty were called in queftion,
it would be ridiculous to refer it to the man's
own word, whether he be honeft or not. The
fame abfurdity there is in attempting to prove,
by any kind of reafoning, probable or demon-
ftrative, that our reafon is not fallacious, fmce
the very point in queftion is, whether rea-
foning may be trufted.

If a Sceptic ftiould build his fcepticifm upon
this foundation, that all our reafoning and
judging powers are fallacious in ther nature,
or ihould refolve at leaft to with-hold aflent
until it be proved that they are not ; it would
be impofiible by argument to beat him out of
this ftrong hold, and he muft even be left to
enjoy his fcepticifm.

Des Cartes certainly made a falfe ftep in
this matter ; for having fuggefted this doubt
among others, that whatever evidence he
might have from his confcioufnefs, his fenfes,
his memory, or his reafon ; yet pofiibly fome
malignant being had given him thpfe faculties
on purpofe to impofe upon him ; and therefore,
that they are not to be trufted without a proper
voucher : To remove this doubt, he endea-
vours to prove the being of a Deity who is no
deceiver j whence he concludes, that the fa-
culties

2 8- ESSAY VI.

C HA P.culties he had given him are true and worthy
,^^__J^__^^^ to be truilec.

It is ilr.ange that fo acute a reafoner did not
perceive, that in this realoning thers is evi-
dently a begging of the queflion.

For if our facuUies be fiillacious, why may
they not deceive us in this reafoning as well
as in o*:hers ? And if they are to be trulied ill
this inilance without a voucher, why not in
others ?

Every kind of reafoning for the veracity of
Gur faculties, amounts to no more than taking
their owa teftimony for their veracity ; and
this we muil do implicitly, until God give us
new faculties to ht in judgment upon the old ;
and the reafon why»DES Cartes fatisfied him-
felf with fo weak an argument tor the truth of
his faculties, molt probably was, that he never
ferloufly doubted of it.

If any truth can be faid to be prior to all
others in the order of nature, this feems to
have the bed claim ; becaufe in every inftance
of aifent, whether upon intuitive, demonftra-
tive, or probable evidence, the truth of our
faculties is taken for granted, and is, as it
were, one of the premifes on which our affent
is grounded.

How then come we to be affured of this
fundamental truth on which all others reft ?
Perhaps evidence, as in ma?iy other refpefts
it refembles light, fo in this alfo, that as light,
which is the difcoverer of all vihble objects,
diibovers itfelf at the fame time ; fo evidence,
which is the voucher for all truth, vouches for
itfelf at the fame time.

This, however, is certain, that fuch is the
conftitution of the human mind, that evidence

difcerned

Firji Principles of Centin^ent Truths. 283

difcerned by us, forces a correfponding degree CHAP,
of aifent. And a man who perfeftly under- ^•
flood a jufl fyllogifm, without believing that
the conclufion follows from the premifes, would
be a greater monfter than a man born without
hands or feet.

We are born under a neceffity of trufting
to our reafoning and judging powers ; and a
real belief of their being fallacious cannot be
maintained for any confiderable time by the
greateft Sceptic, becaufe it is doing violence to
cur conftitution. It is Hke a man's walking
upon his hands, a feat which fome men upon
occafion can exhibit ; but no man ever made a
long journey in this manner. Ceafe ro admire
his dexterity, and he will, like, other men,
betake himfelf to his legs.

We may here take notice of a property of
the principle under confideration, that feems
to be common to it with many other firft: prin-
ciples, and which can hardly be found in any
principle that is built folely upon reafoning ;
and that is, that in mod m.en it produces its
effecl without ever being attended to, or made
an objedt of thought. No man ever thinks of
this principle, unlefs when he confiders the
grounds of fcepticifm ; yet it invariably go-
verns his opinions. When a man in the com-
mon courfe of life gives credit to the teftimony
of his fenfes, his memory, or his reafon,
he does not put the queftion to himfelf, whe-
ther thefe faculties may deceive him ; yet the
trufi he repofes in them fuppofes an inward
convidion, that, in that inff ance at leaft, they
do not deceive him.

It is another property of this and of many
jEirft principles, that they force aifent in par-
ticular

284 ESSAY VI.

CHAP.ticuIar inftances, more powerfully than when
they are turned into a general propofition.
Many Sceptics have denied every general prin-
ciple of fcience, excepting peihaps the exif-
tence of our preient thoughts ; yet thefe men
reafon, and refute, and prove, they aiTent and
diiient in particular c'lies. 1 hey ufe reafoning
to overturn ail reafoning, and judge that they
ought to have no judgment, and fee clearly
that they are blind. Pviany have in general
maintained that the fenfcs are fallacious, yet
there never was found a man fo fceptical as
not to trufc his fenies in particular inftances
when his fafety required it; and it may be ob-
ferved of thofe who have profeifed fcepticifm,
that their fcepticifm lies in generals, while
in particulars they are no lefs dogmatical than
others.

8. Another firft principle relating to exif-
tence, is, That there is life and intelligence in
our fellow-men with whom w^e converfe.

As foon as children are capable of alking a
queilion, or of anfwering a queftion, as foon
as they fhew the figns of love, of refentment,
or of any other aiTetlion, they muft be con-
vinced, that thofe with whom they have this
intercourfe are intelligent beings.

It is evident they are capable of fuch inter-
courfe long before they can reafon. Every one
knows, that there is a focial intercourfe be-
tween the nurfe and the child before it is a year
old. It can, at that age, underftand many
things that are faid to it.

It can by figns afk and refufe, threaten and
fupplicate. It clings to its nurfe in danger,
enters into her grief and joy, is happy in her
foothing and carelfes, and unhappy in her dif-

pleafure :

F'lrjl Principles of Contingent Truths, 285

pleafure: That thefe things cannoi. be withoutCH A P.
a conviction in the child that the inurfe is an ^'■
intelligent being, I think muft be granted. '~' ''

Now I would afk how a cbild of a year old
comes by this conviction? Not by reafoning
furelv, for children do not reafon at that ao-e.
Nor is it by external fcnfts, for life and in-
telligence are not objects of the external fen-
fes.

By what means, or upon what occafions
Nature firft: gives this infornuition to the infant
mind, is not eafy to determine. We are not
capable of reflecling upon our own thoughts
at that period of life, and before we attain
this capacity, we have quite forgot how or on
what occafion we firfl had this belief; we per-
ceive it in thofe who are born blind, and in
others who are born deaf; and therefore Na-
ture has not conneded it folely either with any
object of fight, or with any object of hearing.
When we grow up to the years of reafon and
reflection, this belief remains. No man thinks
of afking himfelf what reafon he has to be-
lieve that his neighbour is a living creature.
He would be not a little furprifed if another
perfon (hould afk him fo abfurd a queltion ;
and perhaps could not give any reafon which
would not equally prove a watch or a puppet
to be a living creature.

But, though you fhould fatisfy him of the
weaknefs of the reafons he gives for his belief,
you cannot make him in the leaft doubtful.
This belief (lands upon another foundation
than that of reafoning; and therefore, whether
a man can give good reafons for it or not, it is
not in his power to faake it off.

Setting

286 ESSAY VL

C H A P. Setting afide this natural convidion, I be-
^ lieve the bcft reafon we can give, to prove that
^^''^*^**^ other men are hving and inteUigent, is, that
their words and aftions indicate hke powers
of underflanding as we are confcious of in
ourfelves. The very fame argument appUed
to the works of nature, leads us to conclude,
that there is an intelligent Author of nature,
and appears equally flrong and obvious in the
lad cafe as in the firft ; fo that it may be doubt-
ed whether men, by the mere exercife of rea-
foning, might not as foon difcover the exif-
tence of a Deity, as that other men have life
and intelligence.

The knowledge of the laft is abfolutely ne-
ceffary to our receiving any improvement by
means of inflrudion and example; and, with-
out thefe means of improvements, there is no
ground to think that we fhould ever be able
to acquire the ufe of our reafoning powers.
This knowledge, therefore, muft be antece-
dent to reafoning, and therefore muft be a
firft principle.

It cannot be faid, that the judgments we
form concerning life and intelligence in other
beings are at firft free from error; But the:
errors of children in this matter lie on the fafe
fide ; they are prone to attribute intelHgence
to things inanimate. Thefe errors are of fmall
confequence, and are gradually corrected by
experience and ripe judgment. But the be-
lief of life and intelligence in other men, is
abfolutely neceffary for us before we are capa*
ble of reafoning ; and therefore the Author of
our being hath given us this belief antecedently
to all reafoning.

9. Another

Firft Principles of Cojitingent Truths. 287

9. Another firft principle I take to be, That^ ^^ .^ ^-
.certain features of the countenance, ioimds of
the voice, and geftures of the body, indicate
certain thoughts and difpofidons of mind»

That many operations of the mind have
their natural figns in the countenance, voice,
and gefture, I fuppofe every m/ui will admit.
Qvinis eniai motus animi, fays Cicero, fuum
quemdam ha bet a natura vultum^ et vocem eft
gejlum. The only queftion is, whether we un-
derfland the fignification of thofefigns, by the
conftitution of our nature, by a kind of natu-
ral perception fmiilar to the perceptions of'
fenfe; or whether we gradually learn the fig-
nification of fuch iigns from experience, as
we learn that fmoke is a fign of fire, or that the
freezing of water is a fign of cold? I take the
firft to be the truth.

It feems to me incredible, that the notions
men have of the expreffion of features, voice,
and gefture, are entirely the fruit of experi-
ence. Children, almoft as foon as born, may
be frighted and thrown into fits by a threaten-
ing or angry tone of voice. I knew a man
who could make an infant cry, byivhiftlinga
melancholy tune in the fame ^r in the next
room: and again, by altering his key, and the
ftrain of his mufic, could make the child leap
and dance for joy.

It is not by experience furely that we learn
the exprcfiion of mufic ; for its operation is
commonly ftro ngeft the firft time we hear it. -
One air expreffes mirth and feftivity; fo that,
when we hear it, it is with difficulty we can
forbear to dance. Another is forrowful and
folemn. One infpires with tendernefs and
love ; another ^with-.rage and fury.

Hear

288 ESSAY VI.

C H A P. Hear how Timotheus yary'd lays furprife,
And bid alternate paflions fall and rife ;
^^'^'^^^'■'^ While at each change, the fon of Lybian Jove
Now burns with glory, and then melts with

love.
Now his fierce eyes with fparlding fury glow,
Now fighs Ileal out, and tears begin to flow.
Perfians and Greeks, like turns of Nature,

found,
And the world*s viftor flood fubdued by found.

It is not necefiary that a man have fludied
either mufic or the palfions, in order to his
feeling thefe effedls. The mod ignorant and
unimproved, to whom Nature has given a
good ear, feel them as ftrcngly as the mofl'
knowing.

The countenance and geflure have an ex-
preffion no lefs flrong and natural than the
voice. The firfl: time one fees a flern and
fierce look, a contracted brow, and a menac-
ing pofture, he concludes that the perfon is
inflamed with answer. Shall we fay, that, pre-
vious to experience, the moft hoftile counte-
nance has as agreeable an appearance as the
moil gentle and benign? This furely would
contradict ail experience ; for we know that an
angry countenance will fright a child in the
cradle. Who has not obferved, that children,
very early, are able to diftinguifh what is faid
to them in jeft from what is faid in earneft,
by the tone of the voice, and the features of
the face? 1 hey judge by thefe natural figns,
even when they feem to contradidt the arti-
ficial.

If it were by experience that we learn the
meaning of features, and found, and geflure,

it

Firji Principles of Contingent Truths. 289

it might be expefted that we fhould recoiled CHAP,
the time when we firft learned thole leiTons, or, ^■
at lead, fome of iuch a multitude.

Thofe who give attention to the operations
of children, can eafily discover the time when
they have their earlieft notices from experience,
fuch as that flame will burn, or that knives
will cut. But no man is able to recollect in
himfelf, or to obferve m others, the time when
the exprellion of the face, voice, and gefture,
were learned.

Nay, I apprehend that it is impoffible that
this fhould be learned from experience.

When we fee the fign, and fee the thing
fignified alwavs conjoined with it, experience
may be the inflrucior. and teach us how that
fign is to be interpreted. But hov/ fiiall expe-
rience inflru61: us when we fee the fign only,
when the thing fignified is invifiblei Now this
is the cafe here ; the thoughts and paflions of
the mind, as wrl' as th^ mind itfelf, are invi-
flble, and therefore their coimstlion with any
fehfible fign cannot be firfl difcovered by ex-
perience ; there mufl be fome earlier fource of
this knowledge.

Nature ieems to have given to men a faculty
or fenfe, by which this connection is perceived.
And the operation of this fenfe is very analo-
gous to that of the external fenfes.

When 1 grafp an ivory ball in my hand, I
feel a certain ienfation of touch- In the fen-
fation, there is nothing external, nothing cor-
poreal. 'Ihe fcniation is neither round nor
hard; it is an atr of feeling of the mind, from
which I cannot, by reaioning, infer the exif-
tence of any body. But, by the crnftirution
of my nature, the fenfation carries along with

Vol. II. U it

290

ESSAY VI.

P. it the conception and belief of a round hard
body really exifting in my hand.

In like manner, when I fee the features of
an exprelTive face, I fee only figure and colour
varioufly modified. But, by the conftitution
of my nature, the vifible objeft brings along
with it the conception and belief of a certain
paflion or fentiment in the mind of the perfon.

In the former cafe, a fenfation of touch is
the fign, and the hardnefs and roundnefs of
the body I grafp is fignified by that fenfation.
In the latter cafe, the features of the perfon is
the fign, and the pafTion or fentiment is figni-
fied by it.

The power of natural figns, to fignify the
fentiments and pafTions of the mind, is feen in
the figns of dumb perfons, who can make
themfelves to be underftood in a confiderable
degree, even by thofe who are wholly unexpe-
rienced in that language.

It is feen in the traffic which has been fre-
quently carried on between people that have no
common acquired language. They can buy
and fell, and afk and refufe, and fhew a friend-
ly or hoftile difpofition by natural figns.

It was feen fiill more in the a£tors among
the ancients who performed the gefticulation
upon the ftage, while others recited the words.
To fuch a pitch was this art carried, that we
are told Cicero and Roscius ufed to contend
whether the orator could exprefs any thing by
word^, which the a6:or could not exprefs in
dumb (how by gefliculation ; and whether the
fame fentence or thought could not be afted
in all the variety of ways in which the orator
could exprefs it in words.

But

firji Principles of Contingent Truths. 291

But the moft furprifing exhibition of this CHAP,
kind, was that of the pantomimes among the v^-^Z^
Romans, who aded plays, or fcenes of plays,
without any recitation, and yet could be per-
fectly underftood.

And here it deferves our notice, that al-
though it required much fludy and pradice in
the pantomimes to excel in their art ; yet 'vi re-
quired neither ftudy nor practice in the fpeda-
tors to underftand them. It was a natural lan-
guage, and therefore underflood by ail men,
whether Romans, Greeks, or Barbarians, by
the learned and the unlearned.

LuciAN relates, that a King, whofe domi-
nions bordered upon the Euxine fea, happen-
ing to be at Rome in the reign of Nero, and
having feen a pantomime act, begged him of
Nero that he might ufe him in his intercourfe
with all the nations in his neigh bo arhood :
For, faid he, I am obliged to employ I don't
know how many intepreters, in order to keep
a correfpondence with neighbours who fpeak
many languages, and do not underfland mfne;
but this fellow will make them all underfland
him.

For thefe reafons, I conceive, it mufl be
granted, not only that there is a connection
eilabUfhed by Nature between certain figns
in the countenance, voice, and geflure, and
the thoughts and pafTions of the mind ; but alio,
that, by our conflitution, we underftand the
meaning of thofe figns, and from the fign con-
clude the exigence of the thing fignified.

10. Another firfl principle appears to me to
be. That there is a certain regard due to human
teftimony in matters of faft, and even to hu-
man authority in matters of opinion.

U 2 Before

292

ESSAY VI.

Before we are capable of reafoning about
tcftimony or authority, there are many things
which it concerns us to know, for which we
can have no other evidence. The wife Author
of nature hath planted in the human mind a
propenfity to rely upon this evidence before we
can give a reafon for doing fo. This, indeed,
puts our judgment almoft entirely in the power
of thofe that are about us, in the firll period of
life ; but this is neceifary both to our preferva-
tion and to our improvement. If children
"were fo framed, as to pay no regard to telli-
mony or to authority, they muft, in the literal
fenfe, perifh for lack of knowledge. It is not
more neceffary that they fhould be fed before
they can feed themfelves, than that they fliould
be inftructed in many things, before they can
difcover them by their own judgment.

But when our faculties ripen, we find reafon
to check that propenfity to yield to teftimony
and to authority, which was fo neceifary and
fo natural in the firft period of life. We learn
to reafon about the regard due to them, and
fee it to be a chiidiih weaknefs to lay more
flrefs upon them than reafon juilifies. Yet, I
believe, to the end of life, moil men are more
apt to go into this extreme than into the con-
trary ; and the natural propenfity ftill retains
fome force.

The natural principles, by which our judg-
ments and opinions are regulated before we
come to the ufe of reafon, feem to be no lefs
neceifary to fuch a being as man, than thofe
natural inilinfts which the Author af nature
hath given us to regulate our anions during
thut period.

II. There

Firji Principles of Coniingent Truths. 293

1 1. There are many events depending uponC HAP.
the will of man, in which there is a felf-evi- V.
dent probabiHty, greater or lefs, according to *
circumflances.

There may be in fome individuals fuch a de-
gree of phrenzy and madnefs, that no man can
fay what they may or may not do. Such per-
foDs we find it neceflary to put under reflraint,
that as far as poffible they may be kept from
doing harm to themfelves or to others. They
are not confidered as reafonable creatures, or
members of fociety. But, as to men who have
a found mind, we depend upon a certain de-
gree of regularity in their conduct ; and could
put a thoufand different cafes, wherein we
could venture, ten to one, that they will ad in
fuch a way, and not in the contrary.

If we had no confidence in our fellow men
that they will aft fuch a part in fuch circum-
flances, it would be impoffible to live in fociety
with them : For that which makes men capa-
ble of living in fociety, and uniting in a politi-
cal body under government, is, that their acti-
ons will always be regulated in a great meafure
by the common principles of human nature.

It may always be expected, that they will
regard their own interefi; and reputation, and
that of their families and friends ; that they
will repel injuries, and have fome fenfe of good
offices ; and that they will have fome regard to
truth and juftice, fo far at leaft as not to
fwerve from them without temptation.

It is upon fuch principles as thcfc, that all
political reafoning is grounded. Such reafon-
ing is never demonftrative ; but it may have a
very great degree of probability, efpecially
when applied to great bodies of men.

12. The

294 E S S x-l Y VI.

CHAP. 12. The laft principle of contingent truths
^)j;^ I mention, is, That, in the phcenomena of
njiture, what is to be, will probably be like to
"what has been in fimilar circumftances.

We mufl: have this conviclion as foon as we
are capable of learning any thing from experi-
ence; for all experience is grounded upon a
belief that the future will be like the pad.
Take away this principle, and the experience
of an hundred years makes us no wifer with re-
gard to what is to come.

This is one of thofe principles, which, when
we grow up and obferve the courfe of nature,
we can confirm by reafoning. We perceive
that Nature is governed by fixed laws, and that
if it were not fo, there could be no fuch thing
as prudence in human condudt; there would
be no fitnefs in any means to promote an end;
and what, on one occafion, promoted it, might
as probably, on another occafion, obflrucl it.

But the principle is neceffary for us before
we are able to difcover it by reafoning, and
therefore is made a part of our conftitution,
and produces its effeds before the ufe of rea-
fon.

This principle remains in all its force when
we come to the ufe of reafon; but we learn to
be more cautious in the application of it. We
obferve more carefully the circumftances on
W'hich the paft event depended, and learn to
diftinguifh them from thofe which were acci-
dentally conjoined with it.

In order to this a number of experiments,
varied in their circumftances, is often neceffa-
ry. Sometimes a fingle experiment is thought
fufficient to eftablifn a general conclufion.
Thus, when it was once found, that, in a cer

tain

Firjl Principles of Contingent Truths » 295

tain degree of cold, quickfilver became a hardC HAP.
and malleable metal, there was good rcalbn ^ •
to think, that the fame degree of cold \viir *'"-^
always produce this efFecl to the end of the
world.

I need hardly mention, that the whole fa-
bric of natural philofophy is built upon this
principle, and, if it be taken away, muit tum-
ble down to the foundation.

Therefore the great Newton lays it down
as an axiom, or as one of his laws of philo-
fophifmg, in thefe words, Effeduumnaturalium
ejufdem generis eafdern ejfe caiifas. This is
what every man affents to as foon as he under-
flands it, and no man afks a reafon for it. It
has therefore the moft genuine marks of a firfl
principle.

It is very remarkable, ttiat although all
our expectation of what is to happen in the
courfe of nature is derived from the belief
of this principle, yet no man thinks of afk-
ing what is the ground of this belief.

Mr. Hume, I think, was the firft who put
this quellion; and he has fliewn clearly and
invincibly, that it is neither grounded upon
reafoning, nor has that kind of intuitive evi-
dence which mathematical axioms have. It is
not a neeeifary truth.

He has endeavoured to account for it upon
his own principles. It is not my bufmefs at
prefent to examine the account he has given
of this univerfal belief of mankind ; becaufe,
whether his account of it be jufl or not, (and
I think it is not), yet, as this belief is univer-
fal among mankind, and is not grounded upon
any antecedent reafoning, but upon the con-
flitution of the mind itfelf, it mufl be ac-
knowledged

99^ ESSAY VI.

CHAP, knowledged to be a firft principle, in the fenfe
^^1 in which I ufc that word.

I do not at 3II affirm, that thofe I have meii-
tioned are all the firfl principles from which we
may reafon concerning contingent truths. Such
enumerations, even when made after much re-
flection, are feldom perfect.

CHAP. VI.

Tirjt Principles of nccejfary Truths.

BOUT mofl of the firft principles of
neceflary truths there has been no dif-
pute, and therefore it is the lefs neceffary to
dv/ell upon them. It will be fufficicnt to di-
vide them into different claifes; to mention
fome, by way of fpecimen, in each clafs ; and
to make fome remarks on thofe of which the
truth ha^ been called in queflion.

They may, I think, mofl properly be di-
vided according to the fciences to which they
belong.

1. Ihere are fome firfl principles that may
be called grammatical; fuch as, that every
adjedive in a fentence muif belong to fome
fubfhantive exprefled or underflccd ; that every
complete fentence mufi: have a verb.

Thofe who have attended to the ffructure of
language, and formed diftindl notions of the
nature and ufe of the various parts of fpeech,
perceive, v/ithout reafoning, that thefe, and
many ether fuch principles, are neceffarily
true.

2. There are logical axioms; fuch as, that
any contexture of words which does not make

a pro-

Firjl Principles of Neceffary Truths. 297

a propofition, is neither true nor falfe ; that CHAP,
every propofition is either true or falfe; that '

no propofition can be both true and falfe at the
fame time; that reafoning in a circle proves
nothing; that whatever may be truly affirmed
of a genus, may be truly affirmed of all the
fpecies, and all the individuals belonging to
that genus.

3. Every one knows there are mathematical
axioms. Mathematicians have, from the days
of Euclid, very wifely laid down the axioms
or firft principles on which they reafon. And
the effect which this appears to have had upon
the (lability and happy progrefs of this fcience,
gives no fmall encouragement to attempt to
lay the foundation of other fciences in a fimilar
manner, as far as we are able.

Mr. Hume hath difcovered, as he appre-
hends, a weak fide, even in mathematical
axioms; and thinks, that it is not ftridly true,
for inilance, that two right lines can cut one
another in one point only.

The principle he reafons from is. That every
fimple idea is a copy of a preceding impreffion;
and therefore, in its precifion and accuracy,
can never go beyond its original. From which
he reafons in this manner: No man ever faw
or felt a line fo ftraight, that it might not cut
another, equally ftraight, in two or niore
points. Therefore there can be no idea of
fuch a line.

The ideas that are moft elfential to geome-
try, fuch as, thofe of equality, of a ftraight
line, and of a fquare furface, are far, he fays,
from being diftinQ: and determinate; and the
definitions dellroy the pretended deinonftrati-

ons.

<wV^

298 ESSAY VL

CHAP, ors. Thus, mathematical demonflratlon is
^ ^' found to be a rope of fand.

I agree with this acute author, that, if we
could form no notion of points, lines, and
furfaces, more accurate than thofe we fee and
Jiandle, there could be no mathematical de-
monilration.

But every man that has underftanding, by
analyfmg, by abilracting, and compounding
the rude materials exhibited by his fenfes, can
fabricate, in his own mind, thofe elegant and
accurate forms of mathematical lines, furfaces,
and folids.

If a man finds himfelf incapable of forming
a precife and determinate notion of the figure
which Mathematicians call a cube, he not on-
ly is no Mathematician, but is incapable of be-
ing one. But, if he has a precife and deter-
minate notion of that figure, he mud perceive,
that it is terminated by fix mathematical fur-
faces, perfedly fquare, and perfectly equal.
He rnufl perceive, that thefe furfaces are ter-
minated by twelve mathematical lines, per-
fedlly flraight, and perfectly equal, and that
thofe lines are terminated by eight mathema-
tical points.

When a man is confcious of having thefe
conceptions diftindt and determinate, as every
Mathematician is, it is in vain to bring meta-
phyfical arguments to convince him that tbey
are not diftintt. You may as well bring argu-
ments to convince a man racked with pain, that
he feels no pain.

Every theory that is inconfiftent with our
having accurate notions of mathematical hues,
iurfaces, and folids, mull be falie. Therefore

it

Firjl Principles of Necejfary Truths. 299

it follows, that they are not copies of our im- ^ ^^ ^•

prellions. ^...^v-^-'

The Medicean Venus is not a copy of the
block of marble from which it was made. It
is true, that the elegant itatue was formed
out of the rude block, and that too by a ma-
nual operation, which, in a hteral fenfe, we
may call abftraclion. Mathematical notions
are formed in the underilanding by an ab-
ftraftion of another kind, out of the rude per-
ceptions of our fenfes.

As the truths of natural philofophy are not
necelTary truths, but contingent, depending
upon the will of the Maker of the world, the
principles from which they are deduced mud
be of the fame nature, and therefore belong
not to this clafs.

4. I think there are axioms, even In mat-
ters of tafte. Notwithftanding the variety
found among men, in tafte, there are, I ap-
prehend, fome common principles, even in
matters of this kind. I never heard of any
man who thought it a beauty in a human face
to want a nofe, or an eye, or to have the
mouth on one fide. How many ages have
pafled fmce the days of Homer ! Yet, in this
long traft of ages, there never was found a
man who took Thersites for a beauty.

The Jine arts are very properly called the
arts of tafte ^ becaufe the principles of both are
the fame ; and in the fine arts, we find no lefs
agreement among thofe who praftife them than
among other artills.

No work of tafte can be either reHflied or
underftood by thofe who do not agree with
the author in the principles of tafte.

Homer,

%m

jco ESSAY VI.

HoMERj and Virgil, and Shakespeare,
and Milton, had the lame tafte ; and all men
who have been acquainted with their writings,
and agree in the admiration of them, muft have
the fame tafle.

The fundamental rules of poetry and mufic
and painting, and dramatic adion and elo-
quence, have been always the fame, and will
be fo to the end of the world.

The variety we find among men in matters
of tafle is eafily accounted for, confiftently
■with what we have advanced.

There is a tafte that is acquired, and a tafle
that is natural. This holds with rcfped: both
to the external fenfe of tafte and the internal.
Habit and falhion have a powerful influence
upon both.

Of taftes that are natural, there are fome
that may be called rational, others that are
merely animal.

Children are delighted with brilliant and
gaudy colours, with romping and noify mirth,
with feats of agility, ftrength, or cunning ;
and favages have much the fame tafte as chil-
dren.

But there are taftes that are more intellec-
tual. It is the didate of our rational nature,
that love and admiration are mifplaced when
there is no intrinfic worth in the objeft.

In thofe operations of tafte which are ratio-
nal, we judge of the real worth and excellence
of the objecl, and our love or admiration is
guided by that judgment. In fuch operations
there is judgment as well as feehng, and the
feeling depends upon the judgment we form of
the objecl.

I do

^H

Firjl Principles of Neceffary Truths, 301

I do not maintain that tafle, fo far as it is C H A P.
acquired, or fo far as it is merely animal, can ^ *•
be reduced to principles. But as far as it is '^"^^
founded on judgment, it certainly may.

The virtues, the graces, the mufes, have a
beauty that is intrinhc. It lies not in the feel-
ings of the fpedator, but in the real excel-
lence of the object. If v/e do not perceive
their beauty, it is owing to the defe£l or to the
perverfion of our faculties.

And a?, there is an original beauty in cer-
tain moral and intelledlual qualities, fo there is
a borrowed and derived beauty in the natural
figns and exprelTions of luch qualities.

The features of the human face, the modu-
lations of the voice, and the proportions, atti-
tudes, and geuare of the body, are all natural
expreflions of good or bad qualities of the per-
fon, and derive a beauty or a deformity from
the qualities which they exprefs.

"W'orks of cst exprefs fome quality of the ar-
tift, and often d'='rive an additional beauty from
their uti.ity or fitncfs lor their end.

Of fuch things there are fome that ought to
pleafe, and others that ought to difpleafe. If
they do not, it is owing to fome defect in the
fpettator. But v'hat has real excellence will
always pleafe thole who have a corredt judg-
ment and a found heart.

The fum of what has been faid upon this
fubje6l is, that, fetting afide the taftes which
men acquire by habit and falhion, there is a na-
tural tafte, which is partly animal, and partly
rational. With regard to the firPc, all we can
fay is, that the Author of Nature, for wife
realons, has formed us fo as to receive pleafure
from the contemplation of certain objefts, and

difguil

302 ESSAY VI.

C HA P. difgufl from others, before we are capable of
_ perceiving any real excellence in one, or defed:
' ' in the other. But that tafte which we may call
rational, is that part of our conflitution by
which we are made to receive pleaiure from
the contemplation of what we conceive to be
excellent in its kind, the pleafure being an-
nexed to this judgment, and regulated by it.
This tafte may be true or falfe, according as
it is founded on a true or falfe judgment.
And if it may be true or falfe, it muft have
firft principles.

5. There are alfo firft principles in morals.

That an unjuft aftion has more demerit than
an ungenerous one : That a generous a£lion
has more merit than a merely juft one : That
no man ought to be blamed for what it was not
in his power to hinder : That we ought not to
do to others what we would think unjuft or
unfair to be done to us in like circumftances :
Thefe are moral axioms, and many others
mi^ht be named which appear to me to have
no lefs evidence than thofe of mathematics.

Some perhaps may think, that our deter-
minations, either in matters of tafte or in mo-
rals, ought not to be accounted necefl'ary
truths : That they are grounded upon the
conftitution of that faculty which we call tafte,
and of that which we call the moral fenfe or
confcience ; which faculties might have been
fo conftituted as to have given determinati-
ons different, or even contrary to thofe they
now give : That as there is nothing fweet or
bitter in itfelf, but according as it agrees or
difagrecs with the external fenfe called tafte ;
fo there is nothing beautiful or ugly in itfelf,
but according as it agrees or difagrees with

the

Firjl Principles of Necejfary Truths. 303

the internal fenfe, which we alfo call tafle ;
and nothing morally good or ill in itfelf, but
according at it agrees or dilagrees with our
moral fenfe.

This indeed is a fyftem, with regard to mo-
rals and tafle, which hath been fupported in
modern times by great authorities. And if
this fyftem be true, the conlequence muft be,
that there can be no principles, either of taftc
or of morals, that are neceiTary truths. For,
according to this fyftem, all our determinati-
ons, both with regard to matters of tafte, and
with regard to morals, are reduced to matters
of fadl. I mean to fuch as thefe, that by our
conftitution we have on fuch occafions certain
agreeable feelings, and on other occafions cer-
tain difagreeable feelings.

But I cannot help being of a contrary opini-
on, being perfuaded, that a man who deter-
mined that polite behaviour has great defor-
mity, and that there is great beauty in rude-
ncfs and ill breeding, would judge wrong
whatever his feelings were.

In like manner, I cannot help thinking,
that a man who determined that there is more
moral worth in cruelty, perfidy, and injuftice,
than in generofity, juftice, prudence, and
temperance, would judge wrong whatever his
conftitution was.

And if it be true that there is judgment in
our determinations of tafte and of morals, it
muft be granted, that what is true or falfe in
morals, or in matters of tafte, is neceffarily
fo. For this reafon, I have ranked the firft
principles of morals and of tafte under the
clafs of ncceffary truths.

6, The

304 ESSAY VI.

CHAP. 6. The laft clafs of firft principles I Ihall

^^- mention, we may call metaphyfical.
^'^'^^ I fhall particularly confider three of thefe,
becaufe they have been called in queflion by
Mr. Hume.

The jirjl is. That the qualities which we
perceive by our fenfes mufl have a fubjeft,
which we call body, and that the thoughts
we are confcious of mufl have a fubject, which
we call mind.

It is not more evident that two and two
make four, than it is that figure cannot exift,
unlefs there be fomething that is figured, nor
motion without fomething that is moved. I
not only perceive figure and motion, but I
perceive them to be qualities : They have a
neceflary relation to fomething in which they
exift as their fubjed:. The difficulty which
fomePhilofophershave found in admitting this,
is entirely owing to the theory of ideas. A
fubjed of the fenfible qualities which we per-
ceive by our fenfes, is not an idea either of
fenfation or of confcioufnefs ; therefore fay
they, we have no fuch idea. Or, in the ftyle
of Mr. Hume, from what impreffion is the
idea of fubftance derived ? It is not a copy of
any impreifion ; therefore there is no fuch
idea.

The diftin<5lion between fenfible qualities,
and the fubftance to which they belong, and
between thought, and the mind that thinks, is
not the invention of Philofophers ; it is found
in the ftru£ture of all languages, and therefore
muft be common to all men who fpeak with
underftanding. And 1 believe no man, how-
ever fceptical he may be in fpeculation, can
talk on the common affairs of life for half an

hour,

Firjl Principles of Necejfary Truths. 305

hour, without faying things that imply hisCHAP.
belief of the reality of thefe diftinftions. vJv-^

Mr Locke acknowledges, " That we can-
" not conceive how fimple ideas offenfible
" qualities fhould fubfifl alone ; and therefore
" we fuppofe them to exift in, and to be fup-
*' ported by, fome common fubjeft," In his
Eflay, indeed, fome of his expreflions feem to
leave it dubious, whether this belief, that fen-
fible qualities mud have a fubje6t, be a true
judgment, or a vulgar prejudice. But in his
firfl letter to the Biihop of Worci;st;;r, he
removes this doubt, and quotes many paffages
of his EfTay, to fhew that he neither denied,
nor doubted of the exiftence of fubflances,
both thinking and material ; and that he be-
lieved their exiftence on the fame ground the
Bifhop did, to wit, " on the repugnancy to
" our conceptions, that modes and accidents
" fhould fubfifl by themfelves.'* He offers
no proof of this repugnancy ; nor, I think,
can any proof of it be given, becaufe it is a
lirft principle.

It were to be wifhed that Mr. Locke, who
enquired fo accurately and fo laudably into the
origin, certainty, and extent of human know-
ledge, had turned his attention more particu-
larly to the origin of thefe two opinions which
he firmlv believed ; to wit, that fenfible qua-
lities mufl: have a fubjeft which we call body,
and that thought mull have a fubjed which we
call mind. A due attention to thefe two opi-
nions which govern the belief of all men, even
of Sceptics in the practice of life, would pro-
bably have led him to perceive, that fenfation
and confcioufnefs are not the only fources of
human knowledge ; and that there are princi-

VoL. IL X pies

3o6 ESSAY VI.

CHAP pies of belief in human nature, of which we
^I- can give no other account but that they necef-
^•^^'^'"'^ farily refult from the conftitution of our facul-
ties ; and that if it were in our power to throw
off their influence upon our practice and con-
duel, we could neither fpeak nor acl like rea-
fonable men.

We cannot give a reafon why we believe
even our fenfations to be real and not fallaci-
ous ; why we believe what we are confcious
of; why we trufl any of our natural faculties.
We fay, it mufl be fo, it cannot be otherwife.
This exprelTes only a flrong belief, which is
indeed the voice of Nature, and which there-
fore in vain we attempt to refill:. But if, in
fpite of Nature, we refolve to go deeper, and
not to trull our faculties, without a reafon to
fliew that they cannot be fallacious, I am afraid,
that feeking to become wife, and to be as gods,
we fhall become foolifh, and being unfatisfied
with the lot of humanity, we Ihall throw off
common fenfe.

The fecond m.etaphyfical principle I mention
is. That whatever begins to exift, mufl have a
caufe which produced it.

Philofophy is indebted to Mr. Hume in this
refpedl among others, that, by calling in quef-
tion many of the firfl principles of human
knowledge, he hath put fpeculative men upon
enquiring more carefully than was done before,
into the nature of the evidence upon which they
reft. Truth can never fuffer by a fair enqui-
ry ; it can bear to be feen naked and in the
fullefl light ; and the ftriclefl examination will
always turn out in the iifue to its advantage.
I believe Mr. Hume was the firfl who ever

called

Firji Principles of Necejfary Truths, 307

called in queftion whether things that begin toC H A P.
exift mufl have a caufe. ^ ^•

With regard to this point, we mud hold
one of thefe three things, either that it is an
opinion, for which we have no evidence, and
which men have fooliihly taken up without
ground ; or, fccondly. That it is capable of di-
reft proof by argument ; or, thirdly. That it
is felf-evident, and needs no proof, but ought
to be received as an axiom, which cannot by
reafonable men be called in queftion.

The firft of thefe fuppofitions would put an
end to all philofophy, to all religion, to all
reafoning that would carry us beyond the ob-
jects of fenfe, and to all prudence in the con-
duct of life.

As to the fecond fuppofuion, that this prin-
ciple may be proved by direct reafoning, I am
afraid we fhall find the proof extremely diffi-
cult, if not altogether impoffible.

I know only of three or four arguments that
have been urged by Philofophers, in the way
of abftract reafoning, to prove, that things
which begin to exift muft have a caufe.

One is offered by Mr. Hobbes, another by
Dr. Samuel Clarke, another by Mr. Locke.
Mr. Hume, in his Trcatife of Human Nature,
has examined them all ; and, in my opinion,
has fhewn, that they take for granted the thing
to be proved ; a kind of falfe reafoning, which
men are very apt to fall into when they at-
tempt to prove what is felf-evident.

It has been thought, that, although this
principle does not admit of proof from abftra£t
reafoning, it may be proved from experience,
and may be juftly drawn by induction, from
inftances that fall within our obfervation.

X 2 I conceive

3c8 ESSAY VI.

I conceive this method of proof will leave us
in great uncertainty, for thefe three reafons :

ly?, Becaufe the propofition to be proved is
not a contingent but a neceflary propofition.
It is not, that things which begin to exift com-
monly have a caufe, or even that they always
in fa£t have a caufe ; but they muft have a
caufe, and cannot begin to exift without a
caufe.

Proportions of this kind, from their nature,
are incapable of proof by induftion. Expe-
rience informs us only of what is or has been,
not of what muft be ; and the conclufion muft
be of the fame nature with the premifes.

For this reafon, no mathematical propofition
can be proved by induction. Though it ftiould
be found by experience in a thoufand cafes,
that the area of a plane triangle is equal to the
reftangle under the altitude and half the bafe,
this would not prove that it muft be fo in all
cafes, and cannot be otherwife j which is what
the Mathematician afarms.

In like manner, though we had the moft
ample experimental proof, that things which
have begun to exift had a caufe, this would
not proA c that they muft have a caufe. Expe-
rience may flievv us what is the eftabliflied
courfe of nature, but can never ftiew what con-
nections of things are in their nature neceflary.
2dh\ General maxims, grounded on expe-
rience, have only a degree of probability pro-
portioned to the extent of our experience, and
ought alv/ays to be underftood fo as to leave
room for exceptions, if future experience ftiall
difcover any fuch.

The law of gravitation has as full a proof
from experience and induction as any principle

can

Firji Principles of Neceffliry Truths. 309

can be fuppofed to have. Yet, if any Philofo- C H ^^ P.
pher Ihould, by clear experiment, fhew that ^^•
there is a kind of matter in fome bodies which ' ' ^
does not gravitate, the law of gravitation ought
to be limited by that exception.

Now it is evident, that men have never con-
fidered the principle of the neceiTity of caufes,
as a truth of this kind which may admit of li-
mitation or exception ; and therefore it has not
been received upon this kind of evidence.

3<i/y, 1 do not fee that experience could
fatisfy us that every change in nature actually
has a caufe.

In the far greateft part of the changes in na-
ture that fall within our obfervation, the caufes
are unknown ; and therefore, from experience,
we cannot know whether they have caufes
or not.

Caufation is not an objedt of fenfe. The
only experience we can have of it, is in the
confcioufnefs we have of exerting fome power
in ordering our thoughts and actions. But
this experience is fureiy too narrow a founda-
tion for a general conclufion, that all things
that have had or (hall have a beginning muil
have a caufe.

For thefe reafons, this principle cannot be
drawn from experience any more than from
abftrad reafoning.

The third fuppofition is, That it is to be
admitted as a firft or felf-evident principle.
Two reafons may be urged for this.

I/?, The univerfal confent of mankind, not
of Philofophers only, but of the rude and un-
learned vulgar.

Mr. Hume, as far as I know, was the firft
that ever expreffed any doubt of this principle.

And

3IO ESSAY VI.

CHAP, ^nd when we confider that he has rejeded
every principle of human knowledge, except-
ing that of confcioufnefs, and has not even
fpared the axioms of mathematics, his authority
is of fmall weight.

Indeed, with regard to firft principles, there
is no reafon why the opinion of a Philofopher
fliould have more authority than that of ano-
ther man of common fenfe, who has been ac-
cuftomed to judge in fuch cafes. The illiterate
vulgar are competent judges ; and the Philofo-
pher has no prerogative in matters of this
kind ; but he is more liable than they to be
mifled by a favourite fyftem, efpecially if it is
his own.

Setting afide the authority of Mr. Hume;
what has philofophy been employed in, fmce
men firft began to philofophife, but in the in-
veftigation of the caufes of things ? This it
has always profeiTcd, when we trace k to its
cradle. It never entered into any man*s
thought, before the Philofopher we have men-
tioned, to put the previous queftion, whether
things have a caufe or not ? Had it been
thought poflible that they might not, it may be
prefumed, that, in the variety of abfurd and
contradictory caufes ailigned, fome one would
have had recourfe to this hypothefis.

They could conceive the world to arife from
an effg-, from a ftruorjile between love and

CO' _ oo

ftrife, between moifture and drought, between
heat and cold ; but they never fuppofed that it
had no caufe. We know not any Atheiftic fe6l
that ever had recourfe to this topic, though by
it they might have evaded every argument that
could be brought againfl them, and anfwered
all objections to their fyflem.

But

Firjl Principles of Neccffary Truths. 31,1

But rather than adopt fuch an abfurdity,^ "^^ P-
they contrived Ibme imaginary caufe ; iuch as ^
chance, a concourfe of atom?, or necellity,
as the caufe of the univerfe.

The accounts which Philofophers have given
of particular phsenomena, as well as of the uni-
verfe in general, proceed upon the fame prin-
ciple. That every phcenomenon mud have a
caufe, was always taken for granted. Nil
turpiits phyfico, fays Cicero, quam fieri fine
caufia quicquam dicere. Though an Acade-
mic, he was dogmatical in this. And Pla-
to, the Father of the academy, was no lefs fo.

*' na,v']i >up aJ i/vct1ov ^Kpi; aCtU yoi^iy x^'^' TlM^-

" US." It is impoffible that any thing fhould
have its origin without a caufe.

I believe Mr. Hume was the firfl who ever
held the contary. This, indeed, he avows,
and aflumes the honour of the difcovery.
" It is, fays he, a maxim in philofophy, that
*' whatever begins to exift, mull have a caufe
" of exiftence. This is commonly taken for
" granted in all reafonings, without any proof
*' given or demanded. It is fuppofed to be
*' founded on intuition, and to be one of thofe
" maxims, which, though they may be denied
" with the lips, it is impoOibk for men in
" their hearts really to doubt of. But, if we
*' examine this maxim by the idea of know-
" ledge, above explained, we (hall difcover in
" it no mark of fuch intuitive certainty."
The meaning of this feems to be, that it did
not fuit with his theory of intuitive certainty,
and therefore he excludes it from that pri-
vilege.

The vulgar adhere to this maxim as firmly
and univerfally as the Philofophers. Their

fuper-

oi2 ESSAY VI.

CHAP, fuperflitions have the fame origin as the fyftems
^^- of Philofophers, to wit, a defire to know the
'caufes of things. Felix qui potuit rerum cognof-
cere caiifas^ is the univerfal fenfe of men ; but
to fay that any thing can happen without a
caufe, fhocks the common fenfe of a favage.

This univerfal belief of mankind is eafily ac-
counted for, if we allow that the neceffity of a
caufe of every event is obvious to the rational
powers of a man. But it is impoffible to ac-
count for it otherwife. It cannot be afcribed
to education, to fyftems of philofophy, or to
prieftcraft. One would think, that a Philofo-
pher who takes it to be a general delufion or
prejudice, would endeavour to fhow from what
caufes in human nature fuch a general error
may take its rife. But I forget that Mr. Hume
might anfwer upon his own principles, that
fince things may happen without a caufe, this
error and delufion of men may be univerfal
without any caufe.

A fecond reafon why I conceive this to be a
firft principle, is. That mankind not only
aflfent to it in fpeculation, but that the pradice
of life is grounded upon it in the moft import-
ant matters, even in cafes where experience
leaves us doubtful ; and it is impoffible to aft
with common prudence if we fet it afide.

In great families there are fo many bad
things done by a certain perfonage called wo-
hody^ that it is proverbial, that there is a no-
body about every houfe who does a great deal
of mifchief; and even where there is the ex-
adeft infpeftion and government, many events
will happen of which no other author can be
found : So that, if we truft merely to expe-
rience in this matter, nobody will be found to

be

Firfl Principles of Necejfary Truths, 313

be a very aftive perfon, and to have no incon-C HAP.
fiderable fhare in the management of affairs.
But whatever countenance this fyftem may
have from experience, it is too fhocking to
common fenfe to impofe upon the moft igno-
rant. A child knows, that when his top, or
any of his play-things are taken awav, it muft
be done by fomebody. Perhaps it would not
be difficult to perfuade him that it was done by
fome invifible being, but that it fhould be done
by nobody he cannot believe.

Suppofe a man's houfe to be broken open,
his money and jewels taken away. Such
things have happened times innumerable with-
out any apparent caufe ; and were he only to
reafon from experience in fuch a cafe, how
muft he behave ? He muft put in one fcale the
inftances wherein a caufe was found of fuch an
event, and in the other fcale, the inftances
where no caufe was found, and the preponde-
rant fcale muft determine, whether it be moft
probable that there was a caufe of this event,
or that there was none. Would any man of
common underftanding have recourfe to fuch
an expedient to direct his judgment ?

Suppofe a man to be found dead on the high-
way, his (kull fradured, his body pierced with
deadly wounds, his watch and money carried
off. The coroners jury fits upon the body, and
the queftion is put, what was the caufe of this
man's death, was it accident, or felo de fe, or
murder by perfons unknown ? Let us fuppofe
an adept in Mr. Hume's philofophy to make
one of the jury, and that he infifts upon the
previous queftion, whether there was any caufe
of the event, and whether it happened with-
out a caufe ?

Surely,

314 ESSAY VI.

P. Surely, upon Mr. Hume's principles, a great
deal might be faid upon this point j and, if
the matter is to be determined by pad expe-
rience, it is dubious on which fide the weight
of argument might fland. But we may ven-
ture to fay, that, if Mr. Hume had been of
fuch a jury, he would have laid afide his philo-
fophical principles, and a6led according to the
dictates of common prudence.

Many paffages might be produced, even in
Mr. Hume's philofophical writings, in which
he, unawares, betrays the fame inward con-
viction of the neceility of caufes, which is
common to other men. I fhall mention only
one, in the Treatife of Human Nature, and in
that part of it where he combats this very
principle. " As to thofe imprellions, fays he,
*' which arife from the fenies, their ultimate
" caufe is, in my opinion, perfectly inexpli-
*' cable by human reafon ; and it will always
" be impoffible to decide with certainty, whe-
" ther they arife immmediately from the ob-
" jcd, or are produced by the creative power
" of the mind, or are derived from the Au-
" thor of our being."

Among thefe alternatives, he never thought
of their not arifing from any caufe.

The arguments which Mr. Hume offers to
prove that this is not a felf-evident principle,
are three. FirJ}^ That all certainty arifes from
a comparifon of ideas, and a difcovery of their
unalterable relations, none of which relations
imply this propofition, That whatever has a
beginning mult have a caufe of exiftence.
This theory of certainty has been examined
before.

The

Tirjl Principles of Necejfary Truths. 3 1 5

The fecond argument is, That whatever we CHAP,
can conceive is poffible. This has Hkewife ^'^•
been examined. v-.— v-^-j

The third argument is, That what we call
a caufe, is only fomething antecedent to, and
always conjoined with the effcft. This is alfo
one of Mr. Hume's peculiar \io6lrines, which
we may have occafion to confider afterwards.
It is fufficient here to obferve, that we may
learn from it that night is the caufe of day,
and day the caufe of night : For no two things
have more conftantly followed each other fmce
the beginning of the world.

The lajl metaphyfical principle I mention,
which is oppofed by the fame author, is. That
dcfign, and intelligence in the caufe, may be
inferred, with certainty, from marks or figns
of it in the effect.

Intelligence, defign, and fkill, are not ob-
jefts of the external fenfes, nor can we be con-
fcious of them in any perfon but ourfelves.
Even in ourfelves, we cannot, v/ith propriety,
be faid to be confcious of the natural or acqui-
red talents we pofiefs. We are confcious only
of the operations of mind in which they are ex-
erted. Indeed, a man com.es to know his own
mental abilities, jufl as he knows another
man's, by the effefts they produce, when there
is occafion to put them to exercife.

A man's wifdom is known to us only by the
figns of it in his condudt ; his eloquence by the
figns of it in his fpeech. In the fame manner
we judge of his virtue, of his fortitude, and
of all his talents and virtues.

Yet it is to be obferved, that we judge of
mens talents with as little doubt or hefitation
as we judge of the immediate objeds of fenfe.

One

3i6 ESSAY VI.

One perfon, we are fure, is a perfeft idiot ;
another, who feigns idiocy to fcreen himfelf
from punifhment, is found upon trial to have
the underflanding of man, and to be account-
able for his condu£t. We perceive one man
to be open, another cunning ; one to be ig-
norant, another very knowing ; one to be
flow of underflanding, another quick. Every
man forms fuch judgments of thofe he conver-
fes with ; and the common affairs of life de-
pend upon fuch judgments. We can as little
avoid them as we can avoid feeing what is be-
fore our eyes.

From this it appears, that it is no lefs a part
of the human conflitution, to judge of mens
charaders, and of their intelledual powers,
from the figns of them in their adions and dif-
courfe, than to judge of corporeal objects by
our fenfes : That fuch judgments are common
to the whole human race that are endowed with
underflanding ; and that they are abfolutely
necelfary in the condudl of life.

Now, every judgment of this kind we form,
is only a particular application of the general
principle, that intelligence, vvifdom, and other
mental qualities in the caufc, may be inferred
from their marks or figns in the efFe6l.

The actions and difcourfes of men are efFe£ls,
of which the actors and fpeakers are the caufes.
The effects are perceived by our fenfes ; but
the caufes are behind the fcene. We only con-
clude their exiflence and their degrees from
our obfervation of the effects.

From wife condud we infer wifdom in the
caufe ; from brave actions we infer courage ;
and fo in other cafes.

This

Firji Principles of Ncceffary Truths. 3 1 7

This inference is made with perfeft fecurityC HAP.
by all men. We cannot avoid it ; it is ne- ^^•
ceflary in the ordinary conduct of life ; it has
therefore the ftrongell marks of being a firft
principle.

Perhaps fome may think that this principle
may be learned either by reafoning or by ex-
perience, and therefore that there is no ground
to think it a firft principle.

If it can be fhewn to be got by reafoning,
by all, or the greater part of thofe who are
governed by it, I fliall very readily acknow-
ledge that it ought not to be efteemed a firft
principle. But i apprehend the contrary ap-
pears from very convincing arguments.

Firjiy The principle is too univerfal to be
the efte6: of reafoning. It is common to Phi-
lofophers and to the vulgar ; to the learned and
the moft illiterate ; to the civilized and to the
favage : And of thofe who are governed by it,
not one in ten thoufand can give a reafon for
it.

Secondly^ We find Philofophers, ancient
and modern, who can reafon excellently in
fubjedts that admit of reafoning, when they
have occafion to defend this principle, not of-
fering reafons for it, or any medium of proof,
but appealing to the common fenfe of man-
kind ; mentioning particular inftances, to
make the abfurdity of the contrary opinion
more apparent, and fometimes ufing the wea-
pons of wit and ridicule, which are very pro-
per weapons for refuting abfurdities, but al-
together improper in points that are to be de-
termined by reafoning.

To confirm this obfervation, I fliall quote
two authors, an ancient and a modern, who

have

3i8 ESSAY VI.

CHAP, have more exprefsly undertaken the defence of
^^ this principle than any others I remember to
'""^'^^^ have met with, and whofe good fenfe and abi-
lity to reafon, where reafoning is proper, will
not be doubted.

The firft is Cicero, whofe words, /ib. i.
cap. 13. De divinatione, may be thus tranflat-
ed.

" Can any thing done by chance have all
" the marks of defign ? Four dice may by
" chance turn up four aces ; but do you think
" that four hundred dice, thrown by chance,
" will turn upfour hundred acesPColours thrown
" upon canvas without defign may have fome
" fimilitude to a human face ; but do you
" think they might make as beautiful a picture
" as that of the Coan Venus ? A hog turning
" up the ground with his nofe may make
" fomething of the form of the letter A ; but
" do you think that a hog might defcribe on
" the ground the Andromache of Ennius ?
" Carneades imagined, that in the ftone
" quarries at Chios he found, in a ftone that
*' was fplit, a reprefentation of the head of a
" little Pan, or fylvan deity. I believe he
" might find a figure not unlike ; but furcly
'* not fuch a one as you would fay had been
" formed by an excellent Sculptor hke Scopas.
" For fo, verily, the cafe is, that chance never
" perfectly imitates defign.'* Thus Cicero.

Now, in all this difcourfe I fee very good
fenfe, and what is apt to convince every un-
prejudiced mind ; but I fee not in the whole a
fingle ftep of reafoning. It is barely an appeal
to every man's common fenfe.

Let

Firji Principles of Neceffary truths. 319

Let us next fee how the fame point is hand-C H A P.
led by the excellent Archbiftiop Iillotson, ^^•
ifb Sermon, vol. 1. •

" For I appeal to any man of reafon, whe-
" ther any thing can be more unreafonable,
" than obftinately to impute an etfecl to chance
" which carries in the face of it all the argu-
" ments and characters of defign? Was ever
'* any confiderable work, in which there was
" required a great variety of parts, and an
" orderly and regular adjuflment of thefe
" parts, done by chance? Will chance fit
*' means to ends, and that in ten thoufand in-
*' fiances, and not fail in any one? How often
" might a man, after he had jumbled a fet of
*' letters in a bag, fling them out upon the
" gound before they would fall into an exact
*' poem, yea or fo much as make a good dif-
" courfe in profe? And may not a Httle book
*' be as enfily made as this great volume of the
" world? How long might a man fprinkle co-
" lours upon canvas with a carelefs hand before
" they would make the exaft picture of a man?
" And is a man eafier made by chance than
*' his picture? How long might twenty thou-
" fand bhnd men, which (hould be fent out
" from the remote parts of England, wander
" up and down before they would all meet up-
" on Salifbury plains, and fall into rank and
" file in the exaft order of an army ? And yet
'* this is much more eafy to be imagined than
" how the innumerable blind parts of matter
*' (hould rendezvous themfelves into a world.
" A man that fees Henry the Seventh's chapel
" at Wcflminfter might with as good reafon
" maintain, (yea and much better, confider-
" ing the vaft difference between that little

" flruCture

320 ESSAY VI.

CHAP." ftruclure and the huge fabric of the world),
^ • *' that it was never contrived or built by any
*~''^''"^" man, but that the flones did by chance grow
" into thofe curious figures into which we fee
" them to have been cut and graven; and that
*' upon a time (as tales ufually begin), the
" materials of that building, the ftone, mor-
" tar, timber, iron, lead, and glais, happily
'' met together, and very fortunately ranged
*' themfelves into that delicate order in which
" we fee them now fo clofe compared, that it
" mud be a very great chance that parts them
" again. What would the world think of a
" man that fliould advance fuch an opinion as
" this, and write a book for it? If they would
" do him right, they ought to look upon him
" as mad. But yet he might maintain this opi-
" nion with a little more reafon than any man
*' can have to fay that the world was made by
" chance, or that the firft men grew out of the
*' earth, as plants do now. For can any thing
" be more ridiculous and againft all reafon,
" than to afcribe the produ£lion of men to the
" firft fruitfulnefs of the earth, without fo
" much as one inflance or experiment in any
age or hiftory to countenance fo monftrous
" a fuppofition? The thing is at firft fight fo
grofs and palpable, that no difcourfe about
" it can make it more apparent. And yet
" thefe fhameful beggars of principles, who
" give this precarious account of the original
" of things, affume to themfelves to be the
'* men of reafon, the great wits of the world,
" the only cautious and wary perfons, who
*' hate to be impoftd upon, that muft have
" convincing evidence for every thing, and can
" admit nothing without a clear demonftration
« for it."

In

cc

lirji Principles of NeceJJary Truths » 321

In this paflage, the excellent author takes CHAP,
what I conceive to be the proper method of ^^•
refuting an abfurdity, by expofmg it in dif-
ferent lights, in which every man of common
underftanding perceives it to be ridiculous.
And although there is much good fenfe, as
well as v/it, in the paflage I have quoied, I
cannot find one medium of proof in the whole.

I have met with one or two refredk/ole au-
thors who draw an argument from the doctrine
of chances, to fliew how improbable it is that
a recular arrangement of parts ihould be the
efFed of chance, or that it fnould not be the
effeft of defign.

I do not obje6t to this reafoning; but I
would obferve, that the doctrine of chances
is a branch of mathematics little more than an
hundred years old. But the conclufion drawn
from it has been held by all men from the be-
ginning of the W'orld. It cannot, therefore,
be thought that men have been led to this con-
clufion by that reafoning. Indeed, it mav be
doubted whether the firfl principle upon which
all the mathematical reafoning about chances
is grounded, is more felf-evident than this con-
clufion drawn from it, or whether it is not a
particular inftance of that general conclufion.

We are next to confider whether we may
not learn this truth from experience. That ef-
fects which have all the marks and tokens of
defign mufh proceed from a defigning caufe.

I apprehend that we cannot learn this truth
from experience, for two reafons.

Firji, Becaufe it is a neceifarv truth, not a
contingent one. It agrees with the experience
of mankind fince the beginning of the world.

Vol. II. Y that

322 ESSAY VI.

C H A P. that the area of a triangle is equal to half the
^^- reclangle under its bafe and perpendicular.
It agrees no lefs with experience, that the fun
rifes in the eaft and fets in the weft. So far
as experience goes, thefe truths are upon an
equal footing. But every man perceives this
diflinftion between them, that the firft is a
necefl'ary truth, and that it is impoffible it
fhould not be true; but the lad is not necef-
fary, but contingent, depending upon the will
of him who made the world. As we cannot
learn from experience that twice three muft ne-
ceflarily make fix, fo neither can we learn from
experience that certain effefts muft proceed
from a defigning and intelligent caufe. Expe-
rience informs us only of what has been, but
never of what muft be.

Secondly^ It may be obferved, that experi-
ence can fliow a connection between a fign,
and the thing fignined by it, in thofe cafes only,
where both the fign and thing fignified are
perceived, and have always been perceived in
conjunclion. But if there be any cafe where
the fign only is perceived, experience can ne-
ver fhew its connection with the thing fignified.
Thus, for example, thought is a fign of a
thinking principle or mind. But how do we
know that thoug^ht cannot be without a mind,
if anv man fhould fay that he knows this by
experience, he deceives himfelf. It is impof-
fible he can have any experience of this ; be-
caufe, though we have an immediate know-
ledge of the exiitence of thought in ourfelves
by confcioufnefs, yet we have no immediate
knov.ledge of a mind. The mind is not an
immediate object either of fenfe or of confci-
oufnefs. We may therefore juftly conclude,

that

Firjl Principles of Neceffary Truths, 323

that the neceffary conneclion between thought^ HAP.
and a mind, or thinking being, is not learned ^Ji^
from experience.

The fame reafoning may be applied to the
connexion between a work excellently fitted
for fome purpofe, and defign in the author or
caufe of that work. One of thefe, to wit,
the work, may be an immediate object of per-
ception. But the defign and purpofe of the
author cannot be an immediate objeft of per-
ception; and therefore experience can never
inform us of any conneclion between the one
and the other, far lefs of a neceffary connec-
tion.

Thus I think it appears, that the principle
we have been confidering, to wit, that from
certain figns or indications in the effed:, we
may infer, that there muft have been intelli-
gence, wifdom, or other intellectual or moral
qualities in the caufe, is a principle which we
get, neither by reafoning nor by experience;
and therefore, if it be a true principle, it muft
be a firft principle. There is in the human
underftanding a light, by which we fee imme-
diately the evidence of it, when there is occa-
fion to apply it.

Of how great importance this principle is
in common life, we have already obferved.
And I need hardly mention its importance in
natural theology.

The clear marks and fignatures of wifdom,
power and goodnefs, in the conflitution and
government of the world, is, of all arguments
that have been advanced for the being and pro-
vidence of the Deity, that which in all ages
has made the ftrongeft impreffion upon candid
and thinking minds ; an argument, which has
Y 2 this

ESSAY VI.

this peculiar advantage, that it gathers
ftrength as human knowledge advances, and
is more convincing at prefent than it was feme
centuries ago.

King Alphonsus might fay, that he could
contrive a better planetary fyflem than that
which Aftronomers held in his day. That
fyltem was not the work of God, but the fic-
tion of men.

But fmce the true fyftem of the fun, moon,
and planets, has been difcovered, no man,
however atheiftically difpofed, has pretended
to fhew how a better could be contrived.

V/hen we attend to the marks of good con-
trivance which appear in the works of God,
every difcovery we make in the conflitution of
the material or intelledual fyftem becomes a
hymn of praife to the great Creator and Go-
vernor of the w^orld. And a man who is pof-
fefied of the genuine fpirit ot philofophy will
think it impiety to contaminate the Divine
workmanfhip, by mixing it with thofe fiftions
of human fancy, called theories and hypothefes,
which will always bear the fignatures of human
folly, no lefs than the other does of Divine
wifdom..

I know of no perfon who ever called in quef-
tion the principle now under our confideration,
v.hen it is applied to the actions and difcour-
• fes of men : For this would be to deny that
we have any means of difcerning a wife man
from an idiot, or a man that is illiterate in the
hip^heft degree from a man of knowledge and
learning, which no man has the effrontery to
deny.

But, in all ages, thofe who have been un-
friendly to the principles of religion, have

made

Firjl Principles of Neccjfary Truths, 325

made attempts to weaken the force of the ar- C H A P.
gument for the exiflcnce and perfedlons of ^^•
the Deity, which is founded on this principle. """^ """"^
That argument has got the name of the argu-
ment from final caufes ; and as the meaning
of this name is well underftood, we iliall ufe
it.

The argument from final caufes, when redu-
ced to a fyllogifm, has thefe two premifes :
Firji, That defign and intelligence in the caufc,
may, with certainty, be inferred from marks
or figns of it in the eife£l. This is the prin-
ciple we have been confidering, and we may
call it the major propofition of the argument.
The fecond, which we call the 7ninor propofiti-
on, is. That there are in fad the cleareft
marks of defign and wifdom in the works of
Nature ; and the conclufion is, that the works
of Nature are the effeds of a wife and intelli-
gent caufe. One mufl either affent to the con-
clufion, or deny one or other of the premifes.

Thofe among the ancients who denied a
God or a Providence, feem to me to have
yielded the major propofition, and to have de-
nied the minor ; conceiving that there are not
in the conftitution of things fuch marks of
wife contrivance as are fufficient to put the
conclufion beyond doubt. This, I think, we
may learn, from the realoning of Cotta the
Academic, in the third book of Cicero, of
the Nature of the Gods.

The gradual advancement made in the know-
ledge of Nature hath put this opinion quite
out of countenance.

When the ftrudure of the human body was
much lefs known than it is now, the famous
Galen faw fuch evident marks of wife contri-
vance

326 ESSAY VI.

CHAP, vance in it, that though he had been educated
v-A--^ an Epicurean, he renounced that fyftem, and
wrote his book of the ufe of the parts of the
human body, on purpofe to convince others of
what appeared fo clear to himfelf, that it was
impoffible that fuch admirable contrivance
Hiould be the eiiect of chance.

Thofe, therefore, of later times, who are
diffatished with this argument from final caufes,
have quitted the ftrcng hold of the ancient
Atheifts, which had become untenable, and
have chofen rather to make a defence againll
the major propofition.

Des Cartes feems to have led the way in
this, though he was no Atheifl. But, having
invented fome new arguments for the being of
God, he was perhaps led to difparage thofe
that had been ufed before, that he might
bring more credit to his own. Or perhaps he
was offended with the Peripatetics, becaufe
they often mixed final caufes with phyfical, in
order to account for the phsenomena of na-
ture.

He maintained therefore that phyfical caufes
only fhould be affigned for phsenomena ; that
the Philofopher has nothing to do with final
caufes ; and that it is prefumption in us to pre-
tend to determine for what end any work of
nature is framed. Some of thofe who were
great admirers of Des Cartes, and followed
him in many points, differed from him in this,
particularly. Dr. Henry More and the pious
Archbifhop Fenelon : But others, after the
example of Des Cartes, have fhewn a con-
tempt of all reafoning from final caufes.
Among thefe, I think, we may reckon Mau-
pertttis and Buffon. But the moft dire6t

attack

Firjl Principles of Neceffary Truths. 327

attack has been made upon this principle byCH AP.
Mr. Hume, who puts an argument in the ^^•
mouth of an Epicurean, on which he feems to ' • -^
lay great itrefs.

The argument is, That the univerfe is a fm-
gular efteft, and therefore we can draw no
conclufion from it, whether it may have been
made by wifdom or not.

If I underftand the force of this argument,
it amounts to this. That, if we had been ac-
cuftomed to fee worlds produced, fome by
wifdom and others without it, and had ob-
fcrved, that fuch a world as this which we in-
habit was always the efte<Sl of wifdom, we
might then, from pail experience, conclude,
that this world was made by wifdom ; but hav-
ing no fuch experience, we have no means of
forming any conclufion about it.

That this is the ftrength of the argument,
appears, becaufe if the marks of wifdom feen
in one world be no evidence of wifdom, the
like marks feen in ten thoufand will give as lit-
tle evidence, unlefs, in time paft, we perceiv-
ed wifdom itfelf conjoined with the tokens of
it ; and, from their perceived conjundtion in
time paft, conclude, that although, in the
prefent world, we fee only one of the two, the
other muft accompany it.

Whence it appears, that this reafoning of
Mr. Hume is built on the fuppofition, that
our inferring defign from the ftrongeft marks
of it, is entirely owing to our pad experience
ol having always found thefe two things con-
joined. But I hope I have made it evident
that this is not the cafe. And indeed it is
evident, that, according to this reafoning, we

can

328 ESSAY VI.

CHAP can have no evidence of mind or defign in any
of our fellow-men.

^"^'^^^^ How do i know that any man of my acquain-
tance hab underftanding ? 1 never faw his un-
derftanding. • I fee only certain effects, which
my judgment leads me to conclude to be marks
and tokens of it.

But, fays the fceptical Philofopher, you can
conclude nothing from thefe tokens, unlefs
pail experience has informed you that fuch to-
kens are always joined with underftanding.
Alas ! Sir, it is impofTible I can ever have this
experience. The underliandin^ of another
man is no immediate object of fight, or of any
other faculty which God hath given me ; and
unlefs I can conclude its exiftence from tokens
that are vifible, I have no evidence that there
is underftanding in any man.

It feems then, that the man who maintains,
that there is no force in the argument from fi-
nal caufes, muft, if he will be confiftent, fee
no evidence of the exiftence of any intelligent
being but himfelf.

CHAP.

X

OPINIONS ahoui firjl PRINCIPLES. 329

CHAP.

VII.

CHAP. VII.

Opinions ancient arid modern about jirft Princi-
ples.

I Know no writer who has treated exprefsly
of firft principles before Aristotle ; but
it is probable, that, in the ancient Pythago-
rean fchool, from which both Plato and
Aristotle borrowed much, this fubject had
not been left untouched.

Before the time of Aristotle, confidera-
ble progrefs had been made in the mathema-
tical fciences, particularly in geometry.

The difcovery of the forty-feventh propofi-
tion of the firft book of Euclid, and of the
five regular folids, is, by antiquity, afcribed
to Pythagoras himfelf; and it is impoffible
he could have made thofe difcoveries without
knowing many other propofitions in mathema-
tics. Aristotle mentions the incommenfu-
rability of the diagonal of a fquare to its fide,
and gives a hint of the manner in which it was
demonftrated. We find likewife fome of the
axioms of geometry mentioned by Aristotle
as axioms, and as indemonftrable principles, of
mathem.atical reafoning.

It is probable, therefore, that.j before the
time of Aristotle, there were elementary
Treatifes of geometry, which are now loft ;
and that in them the axioms were diflinguifhed
from the propofitions which require proof.

To iuppofe, that fo perfeQ: a fyflem as that
of Euclid's Elem.ents was produced by one
man, without any preceding model or mate-
rials.

330 ESSAY VL

C H A P. rials, would be to fup-.ofe Euclid more than
\\- a man. We afcribe to him as much as the
^ weaknefs of human underilanding will per-
mit, if we fuppofe that the inventions in geo-
metry, which had been made in a tract of pre-
ceding ages, were by him not only carried
much farther, but digefled into fo admirable a
fyftem, that his work obfcured all that went
before it, and made them be forgot and loft.

Perhaps, in like manner, the writings of
Aristotle v/ith regard to lirft principles, and
with regard to many other abllraft fubjefts,
may have occafioned the lofs of what had been
written upon thofe fubjecls by more ancient
Philofophers

Whatever may be in this, in his fecond
book upon demonft ration he has treated very
fully or firil principles ; and though he has not
attempted any enumeration of them, he fliows
very clearly, that all demonftration muft be
built upon truths which are evident of them-
felves, but cannot be demonftrated. His
whole doftrine of fyllogifms is grounded upon
a few axioms, from v/hich he endeavours to
demonftrate the rules of fyllogifm in a mathe-
matical way ; and in his topics he points out
many of the firit principles of probable rea-
foning.

As long as the philofophy of Aristotle
prevailed, it was held as a fixed point, that
all proof muft be drawn from principles already
known and granted.

We miuft obferve, however, that, in that
philofophy, many things were aftumed as firft
principles, which have no juft claim to that
character ; fuch as, that the earth is at reft ;
that Nature abhors a vacuum j that there is no

change

OPINIONS about firjl PRINCIPLES. 33 1

change in the heavens above the fphere of the^ ^ ^ ^•
moon ; that the heavenly bodies move in cir- ,^,^^L,
cles, that being the mofl perfed: figure ; that
bodies do not gravitate in their proper place;
and many others.

The Peripatetic philofophy, therefore, in-
ftead of being deficient in firll principles, was
redundant ; inftead of reje(5ling thofe that are
truly fuch, it adopted, as firll principles, many
vulgar prejudices and rafli judgments : And
this feems in general to have been the fpirit of
ancient philofophy.

It is true, there were among the ancients
fceptical Philofophers who profeffed to have no
principles, and held it to be the greatefl virtue
in a Philofopher to with-hold afl'ent, and keep
his judgment in a perfect equilibrium between
contradictory opinions. But though this feft
was defended by fome perfons of great erudi-
tion and acutenefs, it died of itfelf, and the
dogmatic philofophy ot Aristotle obtained a
complete triumph over it.

What Mr. Hume fays of thofe who are fcep-
tical with regard to moral diftinclions, feems
to have had its accomplifliment in the ancient
feci of Sceptics. " The only way, fays he,
'• of converting antagonifts of this kind, is to
" leave them to themfelves ; for finding that
" nobody keeps up the controverfy with them,
" it is probable they will at lad of themfelves,
" from mere wearinefs, come over to the fide
" of common fenfe and reafon.**

Setting afide this fmall fe6l of the Sceptics,
which was extin£t many ages before the autho-
rity of Aristotle declined, I know of no op-
pofition made to firft principles among the an-
cients. The difpofition was, as has been ob-

ferved.

332 ESSAY VI.

CHAP.ferved, not to oppofe, but to multiply them
^^ beyond meafure.

Men have always been prone, when they
leave one extreme to run into the oppofite ;
and this fpirit in the ancient phiiofophy to
multiply firft principles beyond reafon, was a
ftrong prefage, that, when the authority of
the Peripatetic fyilem was at an end, the next
reigning fyltem would diminifh their number
beyond reafon.

This accordingly happened in that great re-
volution of the philofophical republic brought
about by Des Cartes. That truly great re-
former in philofophy, cautious to avoid the
fnare in which Aristotle was taken, of ad-
mitting things as firft principles too raflily,
refolved to doubt of every thing, and to with-
hold his aflent, until it was forced by the clear-
efl evidence.

Thus Des Cartes brought himfelf into that
very ftate of fufpenfe, which the ancient Scep-
tics recommended as the highcil perfection of
a wife man, and the only road to tranquillity
of mind. But he did not remain long in this
ftate ; his doubt did not arife from defpair of
finding the truth, but from caution, that he
might not be impofed upon, and embrace a
cloud inftead of a goddefs.

His very doubting convinced him of his own
exiftence ; for that which does not exift, can
neither doubt, nor believe, nor reafon.

Thus he emerged from univerfal fcepticifm
by this fhort enthymeme, cogito ergo fum.

This enthymeme confifts of an antecedent
propofition, / think, and a conclufion drawn
from it, therefore I ex'i/i.

If

OPINIONS about firjl PRINCIPLES. y:,^-,

If it fhould be aflced, how Des CartesCHAP.
came to be certain of the anLecedent propofi- ^'^^'
tion, it is evident, that for this he trufled to' — ^^~~^
the teftimony of confcioufnefs. He was con-
fcious that he thought, and needed no other
argument.

So that the firfl principle which he adopts in
this famous enthymeme is this, That thofe
doubts, and thoughts, and reafonings, of
which he was confcious, did certainly exift,
and that his confcioufnefs put their exiftencc
beyond all doubt.

It might have been objected to this firft prin-
ciple of Des Cartes, how do you know that
vour confcioufnefs cannot deceive you ? You
have fuppofed, that all you fee, and hear, and
handle, may be an illufion. Why therefore
fhould the power of confcioufnefs have this pre-
rogative, to be believed implicitly, when all
our other powers are fuppofed fallacious ?

To this objection, I know no other anfwer
that can be made, but that we find it impoffiblc
to doubt of thmgs of which we are confcious.
The conftitution of our nature forces this be-
lief upon us irrefiflibly.

This is true, and is fufficient to juPtify Des
Cartes, in affuming, as a firft principle, the
exiftence of thought, of which he was con-
fcious.

He ought, however, to have, gone farther in
this track, and to have confidered whether
there may not be other firft principles which
ought to be adopted for the fame reafon. But -
he did not fee this to be neceffary, conceiving
that, upon this one firft principle, he could
fupport the whole fabric of human knowledge.

To

334 ESSAY VI.

To proceed to the conclufion of Des Car-
TEs's enthymeme. From the exiflence of his
thought he infers his own exiflence. Here
he aflumcs another fuft principle, not a con-
tingent, but a neceflary one; to wit, that
where there is thought, there mud be a think-
ing being or mind.

Having thus eftabliflied his own exiflence,
he proceeds to prove the exiflence of a fupreme
and infinitely perfeft Being; and, from the
perfeftion of the Deity, be infers that his fen-
fes, his memory, and the other faculties which
God had given him, are not fallacious.

Whereas other men, from the beginning of
the world, had taken for granted, as a firfl
principle, the truth and reality of what they
perceive by their fenfes, and from thence in-
ferred the exiflence of a Supreme Author and
Maker of the world, Des Cartes took a con-
trary courfe, conceiving that the teflimony of
our fenfes, and of all our faculties, excepting
that of confcioufnefs, ought not to be taken
for granted, but to be proved by argument.

Perhaps Ibme may think that Des Cartes
meant only to admit no other firft principle of
contingent truths befides that of confcioufnefs;
but that he allowed the axioms of mathema-
tics, and of other neceffary truths, to be re-
ceived without proof.

But I apprehend this was not his intention :
For the truth of mathem.atical axioms muft de-
pend upon the truth of the faculty by which
we judge of them. If the faculty be fallaci-
ous, we m.ay be deceived by trufting to it.
Therefore, as he fuppofes that all our faculties,
excepting confcioufnefs, may be fallacious, and
attempts to prove by argument that they are

not.

OPINIONS about firjl PRINCIPLES. 335

not. It follows, that, according to his princi- C \\ A P.
pies, even mathematical axioms require proof. •

Neither did he allow that there are any necef- ' "
fary truths, but mahitained, that the truths
which are commonly fo called, depend upon
the will of God. And we find his followers,
w^ho may be fuppofed to underdand his princi-
ples, agree in maintaining, that the knowledge
of our own exidence is the firft and funda-
mental principle from which all knowledge
mud be deduced by one who proceeds regularly
in philofophy.

There is, no doubt, a beauty in raifing a
large fabric of knowledge upon a few firll
principles. The (lately fabric of mathematical
knowledge, raifed upon the foundation of a
few axioms and definitions, charms every be-
holder. Des Cartes, who was well acquaint-
ed with this beauty in the mathematical fci-
ences, feems to have been ambitious to give
the fame beautiful fimplicity to his fyftem of
philofophy; and therefore fought only one
firft principle as the foundation of all our
knowledge, at lead of contingent truths.

And fo far has his authority prevailed, that
thofe who came after him have almod univer-
fally followed him in this track. This, there-
fore, may be confidered as the fpirit of modern
philofophy, to allow of no fird principles of
contingent truths but this one, that the thoughts
and operations of our own minds, of which
we are confcious, are felf-evidently real and
true ; but that every thing elfe that is contin-
gent is to be proved by argument.

The exidence of a material world, and of
what we perceive by our fenfcs, is not felf-evi-
dent, according to this philofophy. Des Car-
tes

ESSAY VI.

TEs founded it upon this argument, That God,
who hath given us our fenfes, and all our fa-
culties, is no deceiver, and therefore they are
not fallacious.

I endeavoured to fhow, that if it be not ad-
mitted as a firft principle, that our faculties
are not fallacious, nothing elfe can be admit-
ted ; and that it is impoffible to prove this by
argument, unlefs God fliould give us new
faculties to fit in judgment upon the old.

Father Malebranche agreed with Des
Cartes, that the exiflence of a material world
requires proof; but being diifatisfied with
Des Cartes's argument from the perfection
of the Deity, thought that the only folid proof
is from divine revelation.

Arnauld, who was engaged in controverfy
with Malebranche, approves of his antago-
nift in offering an argument to prove the exifl-
ence of the material world, but obje6ts to the
folidity of his arguments, and offers other ar-
guments of his own.

Mr. Norris, a great admirer of Des Car-
tes and of Malebranche, feems to have
thought all the arguments offered by them and
by Arnauld to be weak, and confeffes that
we have at beil only probable evidence of the
exigence of the material world.

Mr. Locke acknowledges that the evidence
we have of this point is neither intuitive nor
demonflrative; yet he thinks it may be called
knowledge, and diftinguiflies it by the name
of fenfitive knowledge; and, as the ground
of this fenfitive knowledge, he offers fome
weak arguments, which would rather tempt
one to doubt than to believe.

At

OPINIONS about firji PRINCIPLES. Z'^^

Kx. laft Bifliop Berkeley and ArthurCHAP.
Collier, without any knowledge of each J^^v^
other, as far as appears by their writings, un-
dertook to prove that there neither is nor can
be a material world. The excellent flyle and
elegant compofition of the former have made
his writings to be known and read, and this
fyflem to be attributed to him only, as if Col-
lier had never exifted.

Both, indeed, owe fo much to Male-
BRANCHE, that if we take out of his fyflem the
peculiarities of our feeing all things in God, and
our learning the exiftence of an external world
from divine revelation, what remains is jufl the
fyflem of Bifliop Berkeley. I make this
obfervationbythe way, injuflice to a foreign au-
thor, to whom Britifh authors feem not to have
allowed all that is due.

Mr, Hume hath adopted Bifhop Berke-
ley's arguments againfl the exiflence of mat-
ter, and thinks them unanfwerable.

We may obferve, that this great Metaphyfi-
cian, though in general he declares in favour
of univerfal fcepticifm, and therefore may
feem to have no firft principles at all, yet, with
Des Cartes, he always acknowledges the
reality of thofe thoughts and operations of
mind of which we are confcious. So that he
yields the antecedent of Des Cartes's enthy-
meme cogiio, but denies the conclufion ergo
Jum^ the mind being, according to him, no-
thing but that train of imprelTions and ideas of
which we are confcious.

Thus we fee, that the modern philofophy,
of which Des Cartes may juflly be accounted
the founder, being built upon the ruins of the
Peripatetic, has a fpirit quite oppofite, and

Vol. II. Z runs

33S ESSAY VI.

C H A P. runs into a contrarv extreme. The Peripatetic
^ ^^' not only adopted as firll principles thofe which
"^^^^^"^"^ mankind have ahvay relied upon in their moft
important tranlaftions, but, along with them,
many vulgar prejudices ; fo that this fyflem was
founded upon a wide bottom, but in many-
parts unfound. The modern fyftem has nar-
rowed the foundation fo much, that every fu-
perflruclure raifed upon it appears top-heavy.

From the fmgle principle of the exiftence of
our own thoughts, very little, if any thing,
can be deduced by juft reafoning, efpecially
if we fuppofe that all our other faculties may
be fallacious.

Accordingly we find that Mr. Hume was not
the firil that: was led into fcepticifm by the want
of nrft principles. For foon after Des Cartes
there arofe a feet in France called Egoijls^ whp
maintained that we have no evidence of the
exiftence of any thing but ourfeives.

Whether thefe Egoifls, like Mr. Hume, be-
lieved themfelves to be nothing but a train of
ideas and impreffions, or to have a more per-
manent exiftence, I have not learned, having
never feen any of their writings ; nor do I
know whether any of this fe£l: did write in fup-
port of their principles. One would think,
they who did not believe that there was any
psrfonto read, could have little inducement to
write, unlefs they were prompted by that in-
ward monitor, which Persius makes to be the
fource of genius and the teacher of arts.
There can be no doubt, however, of the ex-
iftence of fuch a fe£t, as they are mentioned
by many Authors, and refuted by fome, par-
tlcuhrly by Eui-fier, in his Treatife of firft
princdT>les.

Thofc

OPINIONS about firji PRINCIPLES. 339

Thofe Egoifts and Mr. Hume feem to me toC HA p.
have reafoned more confequentlally from Des
Cartes principle than he did himlelf ; and in-
deed I cannot help thinking, that all who have
foiloAved Des Cartes method, of requiring
proof by argument of every thing except the
exiilence of their own thoughts, have efcapcd
the abyfs of fcepticifm by the help of weak
reafoning and ftrong faith more than by any
other means. And they feem to me to aft
more confidently, who having rejected the firft
principles on which belief mufl: be grounded,
have no belief, than they, who, hke the
others, rejefting firft principles, muft yet have
a fyftem of belief, without any folid foundation
on which it may ftand.

The Philofophers I have hitherto mentioned,
after the time of Des Cartes, have all follow-
ed his method, in refting upon the truth of
their own thoughts as a firft principle, but re-
quiring arguments for the proof of every other
truth of a contingent nature ; but none of
them, excepting Mr. Locke, has exprefsly
treated of firft principles, or given any opinion
of their utility or inutility. We only collect
their opinion from their following Des Cartes
in requiring proof, or pretending to offer proof
of the exiftence of a material world, which
furely ought to be received as a firft principle,
if any thing be, beyond what we are con-
fcious of.

I proceed, therefore, to confider what Mr.
Locks has faid on the fubjeO: of firft principles
or maxims.

I have not the leaft doubt of this author's

candour in what he fomewhere fays, that his

effay was moftlyTpun out of his own thoughts.

Z 2 Yet

34^ ESSAY Vr.

C HA P. Yet it is certain, that, in many of the notions
^ ^^- which we are wont to [afcribe to him, others
were before him, particularly, Des Cartes,
GASshNDi, and Hobbes. Nor is it at all to
be thought ftrange, that ingenious men, when
they are got into the fame track, fliould hit
upon the fame things.

But, in the definition which he gives of
knowledge in general, and in his notions con-
cerning axioms or firfl principles, I know none
that went before him, though he has been very
generally followed in both.

His definition of knowledge, that it confifls
folely in rhe perception of the agreement or dif-
agreement of our ideas, has been already con-
fidered. But fuppofmg it to be jufl, flill it
Vvould be true, that fome agreem»ents and dif-
agreements of ideas mufl be immediately per-
ceived ; and fuch agreements or difagreements,
when they are exprelfed by affirmative or ne-
gative propofitions, are firft principles, becaufe
their truth is immediately difcerned* as foon as
they are underflood.

This I think is granted by Mr. Locke, book
4. chap. 2. " There is a part of our know-
" ledge, fays he, which we may call intuitive.
" In this the mind is at no pains of proving or
" examining, but perceives the truth as the
** e)'e does light, only by being direfted to-
*' ward it. And this kind of knowledge is the
*' cleareft and moft certain that human frailty
" is capable of. This part of knowledge is ir-
" refiffible, and, like bright funfliine, forces
*' itfelf immediately to be perceived, as foon
*' as ever the mind turns its view thatw^ay."

He

OPINIONS about firjl PRINCIPLES. 341

He farther obferves, "That this intuitiveC H A P.
" knowledge is neceffary to conne6t all the ^^^^•
*' fteps of a demonftration.'* ' " ^

From this, I think, it neceflarily follows,
that, in every branch of knowledge, we muui
make ufe of truths that are intuitively knov/n,
in order to deduce from them fuch as require
proof.

But I cannot reconcile this with what he
fays, fedl. 8. of the fame chapter. " The ne-
*' ceflity of this intuitive knowledge in every
*' ftep of fcientifical or demonftrative reafoning
" gave occafion, I imagine, to that miftaken
*' axiom, that all reafoning v/as ex pr(Zcognitis
*' et pr/xconcejfis ^ which, how far it is miftaken,
" I fhall have occafion to fliew more at laree,
" when I come to confider proportions, and
*' particularly thofe propofitions which are call-
*' ed maxims, and to iliew, that it is by a raif-
" take that they are fuppofed to be the foun-
" dation of all our knowledge and reafonings."

I have carefully confidered the chapter on
maxims, which Mr. Locke, here refers to ; and
though one would expect, from the quotation
lafl: made, that it fhould run contrary to what I
have before delivered concerning firft princi-
ples, I find only two or three fentences in it,
and thofe chiefly incidental, to which I do not
affent ; and I am always happy in agreeing
-with a Philofopher whom I fo highly refpeft.

He .endeavours to (how, that axioms or in-
tuitive truths are not innate.

To this I agree. I maintain only, that when
the underftanding is ripe, and when we dif-
tinclly apprehend fuch truths, we immediately
aifent to them.

He

342 E S S A Y VI.

CHAP, He obferves, that felf-evidence is not pecu-
■ liar to thofe propofitions which pafs under the
name of axioms, and have the dignity of axi-
oms afcribed to them.

I grant that there are innumerable felf-tvident
proportions, which have neither dignity nor
utilitv, and therefore deferve not the name of
axioms, as that name is commonly underftood
to imply not only felf-evidence, but fome de-
gree of dignity or utiHty. That a man is a
man, and that a man is not a horfe, are felf-
evident propofitions ; but they are, as Mr.
Locke veryjuftly calls them, trifling propofiti-
ons. TiLLOTsoN very wittily fays of fuch pro-
pofitions, that they are fo furfeited with truth,
that they are good for nothing ; and as they
deferve not the name of axioms, fo neither do
they deferve the name of knowledge.

He obferves, that fuch trifling felf-evident
propofitions as we have named are not derived
from axioms, and therefore that ail our know-
ledge is not derived from axioms.

1 grant that they are not derived from axi-
oms, becaufe they are themfelves felf-evident.
But it is an abufe of words to call them know-
ledge, as it is, to call them axioms; for no man
can be faid to be the wifer or more knowing
for having millions of them in florc.

lie obferves, that the particular propofitions
contained under a general axiom are no lefs
felf-evident than the general axiom, and that
they are fooner known and underftood. Thus
it is as evident, that my hand is lefs than my
body, as that a part is lefs than the whole ; and
I know the truth of the particular propoution,
iooner than that of the general.

This

OPINIONS about firjl PRINCIPLES. 343

This is true. A man cannot perceive tlie^ ^^ '*•
truth of a general axiom, fuch as, that a part
is lefs than the whole, until he has the general
notions of a part and a whole formed in his
mind ; and before he has thefe general notions,
he may perceive that his hand is lefs than his
body.

A great part of this chapter on maxims is
levelled againfl a notion, which, it feems, fome
have entertained, that all our knowledge is de-
rived from thefe two maxims, to wit, whate-
ver is, is ; and it is impoffible for the fame
thing to be, and not to be.

This I take to be a ridiculous notion, juftly
deferving the treatment which Mr. Locke has
given it, if it at all merited his notice. Tiiefe
are identical propofitions ; they are trilling,
and furfeited with truth : No knowledge can
be derived from them.

Having mentioned how far I agree v^^ith Mr.
Locke concerning maxims or fird principles,,
I fhall next take notice of tvv^o or three things,
wherein I cannot agree with him.

In the feventh fe6tion of this chapter, he fays,
That concerning the real exigence of all other
beings, belides ourfelves, and a firfl caufe,
there are no maxims.

I have endeavoured to iliov/ that there are
maxims or firft principles with regard to other
cxiftences. Mr. Locke acknowledges that we
have a knowledge of fuch exiftences, which,
he fays, is neither intuitive nor demonilrative,
and which therefore he calls fenfitive know-
ledge« It is demonftrable, and was long ago
demonftrated by Aristotle, that every pro-
pofition to which we give a rational affent, mufl
either have its evidence in itfelf, or derive it

from

344 ESSAY VI.

CHAP, from fome antecedent propofition. And the
^^^- fame thing ma)'- be faid of the antecedent pro-
^'pofition. As therefore we cannot go back to
antecedent proportions without end, the evi-
dence muft at lafl reft upon propofitions, one
or more, which have their evidence in them-
felves, that is, upon firft principles.

As to the evidence of our own exiftence,
and of the exiftence of a firft caufe, Mr. Locke
does not fay whether it refts upon firft princi-
ples or not. But it is manifeft, from what he
has faid upon both, that it does.

With regard to our own exiftence, fays he,
■we perceive it fo plainly, and fo certainly, that
it neither needs nor is capable of any proof.
This is as much as to fay, that our own exift-
ence is a firft principle ; for it is applying to this
truth the very definition of a firft principle.

He adds, that if I doubt, that very doubt
makes me perceive my own exiftence, and will
not fufFer me to doubt of that. If I feel pain,
I have as certain perception of my exiftence as
of the pain I feel.

Here we have tikvo firft principles plainly im-
plied : Firj}^ That my feeHng pain, or being
confcious of pain, is a certain evidence of the
real exiftence of that pain. And, fecondly.,
That pain cannot exift without a mind, or be-
ing that is pained. That thefe are firft princi-
ples, and incapable of proof, Mr. Locke ac-
knowledges. And it Is certain, that if they
are not true, we can have no evidence of our
ov/n exiftence. For if we may feel pain when
no pain really exifts, or if pain may exift with-
out any being that is pained, then it is certain
that our feeUng pain can give us no evidence
of our exiftence.

Thus

OPINIONS about firjl PRINCIPLES. 345

Thus it appears, that the evidence of ourC HAP.
own exiftence, according to the view that Mr.
Locke gives of it, is grounded upon two of ^ '
thofe firft principles which we had occafion to
mention.

If we confider the argument he has given for
the exiftence of a firft intelUgent caufe, it is no
lefs evident that it is grounded upon other tv/o
of them. The firft, That what begins to exift
muft have a caufe of its exiftence ; and the fe-
cond, That an unintelligent and unthinking
being, cannot be the caufe of beings that are
thinking and intelligent. LIpon thefe two prin-
ciples, he argues very convincingly for the ex-
iftence of a firft intelligent caufe of things.
And, if thefe principles are not true, we can
have no proof of the exiftence of a firft caufe,
either from our own exiftence, or from the ex-
iftence of other things that fall within our view.

Another thing advanced by Mr. Locke
upon this fubjed:, is, that no fcience is, or
hath been built upon maxims.

Surely Mr. Locke was not ignorant of geo-
metry, which hath been built upon maxims
prefixed to the elements, as far back as we are
able to trace it. But though they had not been
prefixed, which was a matter of utility rather
than neceftity, yet it muft be granted, that
every demonftration in geometry is grounded,
cither upon propofitions formerly demonftrated,
or upon felf-evident principles.

Mr. Locke farther fays, that maxims are
not of ufe to help men forward in the advance-
ment of the fciences, or new difcoveries of yet
unknown truths : That Newton, in the dif-
coveries he has made in his never enough to
be admired book, has not been aflifted by the

general

346 ESSAY VL

C H A P. general maxims, whatever is, is ; or the whole
. ;^^s greater than a part, or the like.

I anlwer, the firft of thefe is, as was before
obferved, an identical trifling proportion, of
no ufe in mathematics, or in any other fcience.
The fecond is often ufed by Newton, and by
all Mathematicians, and many demonftrations
reft upon it. In general, Newton, as well as
all other Mathematicians, grounds his demon-
ftrations of mathematical propofitions upon the
axioms laid down by Euclid, or upon propo-
fitions which have been before demonftrated
by help of thofe axioms.

But it deferves to be particularly obferved,
that Nbwton, intending in the third book of his
Principia, to give a more fcientific form to the
phyfical part of aftronomy, which he had at firft
compofed in a popular form, thought proper to
follow the example of Euclid, and to lay
down firft, in what he calls, Regida; Philofo-
phandi^ and in his Phanomena^ the firft princi-
ples which he aflumes in his reafonlng.

Nothing, therefore, could have been more
unluckily adduced by Mr. Locke to fupport
his averfion to firft principles, than the exam-
ple of Sir Isaac Nevxton, who, by laying
down the firft principles upon which he reafons
in thofe parts of natural philofophy which he
cultivated, has given a ftability to that fcience
which it never had before, and which it will
retain to the end of the world.

I am now to give fome account of a Philo-
fopher, who wrote exprefsly on the fubject of
firft principles, after Mr. Locke.

Pere Buffier, a French Jefuit, firft pub-
liftied his Traite des proniers Veritez, et dc la
foiirce de nosjugementSj in 8vo, if I miftakc not,

in

OPINIONS about firjl PRINCIPLES. 347

\\\ the year 1 724. It was afterwards publifned CHAP,
in folio, as a part of his Coirrs des ftknccs. ^' •
Paris, iyT^2.

He defines firfl principles to be propofitions
fo clear, that they can neither be proved, nor
combated by thofe that are more clear.

The firfl fource of firfi principle? he men-
tions, is, that intimate conviftion which every
man has of his own exiftence, and of what
paifes in his own mind. Some Philofophers,
he obferves, admitted thefe as firfl; principles,
who were unwilling to admit any others ; and
he ihows the ftrange confequences that follow
from this fyflem.

A fecond fource of firfi: principles he makes
to be common fenfe ; which, he obferves,
Philofophers have not been wont to confider.
He defines it to be, the difpofition which Na-
ture has planted in all men, or the far greater
part, which leads them, when they come to
the ufe of reafon, to form a common and uni-
form judgment upon obje£ts which are not
objcfts of confcioufnefs, nor are founded on
any antecedent judgment.

He mentions, not as a full enumeration,
but as a fpecimen, the following principles of
common fenfe.

1. That there are other beings, and other
men in the univerfe, befides myfelf.

2. That there is in them fomething that is
called truth, wifdom, prudence, and that thefe
things are not purely arbitrary.

3. That there is fomething in me which I
call intelligence, and fomething which is not
that intelligence, which I call my body, and
that thefe things have different properties.

4. That

348 ESSAY VI.

CHAP. ^. That all men are not in a confplracy to
): deceive me and impofe upon my credulity.

5. That what has not intelligence cannot
produce the effeds of intelligence, nor can
pieces of matter thrown together by chance
form any regular work, fuch as a clock or
"watch.

He explains very particularly the feveral
parts of his definition of common fenfe, and
ihews how the dictates of common fenfe may
be diftinguifhed from common prejudices ;
and then enters into a particular confideration
of the primary truths that concern being in ge-
neral ; the truths that concern thinking beings ;
thofe that concern body ; and thofe on which
the various branches of human knowledge are
grounded.

I fhall not enter into a detail of his fenti-
ments on thefe fubjedis. I think there is more
which I take to be original in this treatife,
than in moft books of the metaphyfical kind I
have met with ; that many of his notions are
folid ; and that others, which I cannot altoge-
ther approve, are ingenious.

The other writers I have mentioned, after
Des Cartes, may, I think, without impro-
priety, be called Cartefians : For though they
differ from Des Cartes in fome things, and
contradict him in others, yet they fet out from
the fame principles, and follow the fame me-
thod, admitting no other firft principle with
regard to the exiflence of things but their own
exiilence, and the exiflence of thofe operati-
ons of mind of which they are confcious, and re-
quiring that the exiftence of a material world,
and the exiflence of other men and things,
fhould be proved by argument.

This

OPINIONS about firji PRINCIPLES. 349

This method of philofophifmg is common to C H A P.
Des Cartes, Malebranche, Arnauld, ^^^•
Locke, Norris, Collier, Berkeley, and
Hume ; and, as it was introduced by Des
Cartes, I call it the Cartefian fyftem, and
thofe who follow it Cartefians, not intending
any difrefpeft by this term, but to fignify a
particular method of philofophifmg common to
them all, and begun by Des Cartes.

Some of thefe have gone the utmofl length
in fcepticifm, leaving no exiftence in Nature
but that of ideas and imprelTions. Some have
endeavoured to throw off the belief of a mate-
rial world only, and to leave us ideas and fpi-
rits. All of them have fallen into very grofs
paradoxes, which can never fit eafy upon the
human underftanding, and which, though
adopted in the clofet, men find themfelves un-
der a neceflity of throwing off and difclaiming
when they enter into fociety.

Indeed, in my judgment, thofe who have
reafoned mod acutely and confequentially up-
on this fyftem, are they that have gone decpeft
into fcepticifm.

Father Buffier, however, is no Cartefian
in this fenfe. He feems to have perceived the
defeats of the Cartefian fyftem while it was in
the meridian of its glory, and to have been
aware that a ridiculous fcepticifm is the natu-
ral iffue of it, and therefore nobly attempted to
lay a broader foundation for human knowledge,
and has the honour of being the firft, as far as
I know, after Aristotle, who has given the
world a juft treatife upon firft principles.

Some late writers, particularly Dr. Oswald,
Dr. Beattie, and Dr. Campbell, have been
led into a way of thinking fpmewhat fimilar to

that

sy

ESSAY VI.

CHAP, that of BuFFiER ; the two former, as I have

V IT • • •

* reafon to believe, without any mtercourfe
wfrh one another, or any knowledge of what
BuFFiER had wrote on the fubjeft. Indeed,
a man who thinks, and who is acquainted
with the philofophy of Mr. Hume, will very
naturally be led to apprehend, that, to fupport
the fabric of human knowledge, fome other
principles are neceffary thanthofe of Des Car-
tes and Mr. Locke. Buffier muft be ac-
knowledged to have the merit of having dif-
covered this, before the confequences of the
Cartefian fyftem were fo fully difplayed as they
have been by Mr. Hume. But I am apt to
think, that the man who docs not fee this
now^, nmll: have but a fuperficial knowledge of
thefe fubjefts.

The three writers above mentioned have my
high efleem and affection as men ; but I in-
tend to fay nothing of them as writers upon
this fubjedt, that I may not incur the cenfure
of partiality. Two of them have been joined
fo clofely with me in the animadverfions of a
celebrated writer, that we may be thought too
near of kin to give our teflimony of one ano-
ther.

CHAP.

Of PREJUDICES, the Caufes of ERROR. 35*

CHAP.

vm.

CHAP. VIII.
Of Prejudices, the Caufes of Error.

OU R intelleftual powers are wifely fitted
by the Author of our nature for the dif-
covery of truth, as far as fuits oUr prefent
ftate. Error is not their natural iflue, any
more than difeafe is of the natural ftru6lure of
the body. Yet, as we are liable to various
difeafes of body from accidental caufes, exter-
nal and internal ; fo we are, from like caufes,
liable to wrong judgments.

Medical writers have endeavoured to enu-
merate the difeafes of the body, and to reduce
them to a fyftem, under the name of nofology;
and it were to be wifhed that we had alfo a
nofology of the human underftanding.

When we know a diforder of the body, we
are often at a lofs to find the proper remedy ;
but in mofl cafes the diforders of the under-
ftanding point out their remedies fo plainly,
that he who knows the one muft know the
other.

Many authors have furnifhed ufeful materi-
als for this purpofe, and fome have endeavour-
ed to reduce them to a fyflem. I like befl the
general divifion given of them by Lord Bacon
in his fifth book De augmentis fcientiarum, and
more fully treated in his Novwn Organum.
He divides them into four claifes, idola tribus^
idola fpccus, idola fori., and idola theairi. The
names are perhaps fanciful ; but I think the
divifion judicious, like mod of the produ6li-
ons of that wonderful genius. And as this di-
vifion was firft made by him, he may be in-
dulged

ZS^ ESSAY VI.

CHAP, dalged the privilege of giving names to its fe*
viii. ygj-^^j ni embers.

I propofe in this chapter to explain the feve-
ral members of this divifion, according to the
meaning of the author, and to give inftances
of each, without confining myfelf to thofe
which Lord "Bacon has given, and without
pretending to complete enumeration.

To every bias of the underflanding, by
which a man may be milled in judging, or
drawn into error, Lord Bacon gives the name
of an idol. The underftanding, in its natural
and bed flate, pays its homage to truth only.
The caufes of error are confidered by him as
fo many falfe deities, who receive the homage
which is due only to truth.

The firft clafs are the idola tribus. Thefe are
fuch as befet the whole human fpecies ; fo that
every man is in danger from them. They arife
from principles of the human conftitution,
which are highly ufeful and necelfary in our
prefent flate ; but, by their excefs or defect,
or wrong diredion, may lead us into error.

As the a£live principles of the human frame
are wifely contrived by the Author of our be-
ing for the diredion of our actions, and yet,
without proper regulation and reflraint, are
apt to lead us wrong ; fo it is alfo with regard
to thofe parts of our conftitution that have in-
fluence upon our opinions. Of this we may
take the following inftances:

I. FirJ}^ Men are prone to be led too much
by authority in their opinions.

In the firft part of life we have no other
guide; and without a difpofition to receive im-
plicitly what we are taught, we fhould be in-
capable

Of PREJUDICES, the Caufes of ERROR. o^^^
capable of inftruclion, and incapable of im-CHAP,

VTIT

provement. ^ ^^^•

When judgment is ripe, there are many-
things in which we are incompetent judges.
In fuch matters, it is mod reafonable to rely
upon the judgment of thofe whom we believe
to be competent and difinterefled. The highefl
court of judicature in the nation relies upon
the authority of lawyers and phyficians in mat-
ters belonging to their refpedive profeffions.

Even in matters which we have accefs to
know, authority always will have, and ought
to have more or lefs weight, in proportion to
the evidence on which our own judgment refts,
and the opinion we have of the judgment and
candour of thofe who differ from us, or agree
with us. The modeft man, confcious of his
own faUibility in judging, is in danger of giv-
ing too much to authority; the arrogant of giv-
ing too little.

In all matters belonging to our cognifance,
every man muft be determined by his own final
judgment, otherwife he does not ad the part
of a rational being. Authority may add weight
to one fcale; but the man holds the balance,
and judges what weight he ought to allow to
authority.

If a man fhould even claim infallibility, we
muft judge of his title to that prerogative. If
a man pretend to be an Ambaffador from hea-
ven, we muft judge of his credentials. No
claim can deprive us of this right, or excufe
us for negledling to exercifc it.

As therefore our regard to authority may be
either too great or too fmall, the bias of humian
nature feems to lean to the firft of thefe ex-

VoL. II. A a tremesj

554 ESSAY VI.

CHAP, tremes; and I believe it is good for men iii-
\^III. general that it fhould do fo.

When this bias concurs with an indifference
about truth, its operation will be the more
powerful.

The love of truth is natural to man, and
flrong in every well-difpofed mind. But it
may be overborn by party-zeal, by vanity, by
the defu'e of viclory, or even by lazinefs.
"Wheh it is fuperior to thefe, it is a manly vir-
tue, and requires the exercife of induftry, for-
titude, felf-denial, candour, and opennefs to
cbnvicfcion.

As there are perfons in the world of fo mean
and abject a fpirit, that they rather chufe to
owe their fubfiftence to the charity of others,
than by induftry to acquire fome property of
their own; fo there are many more who may
be called mere beggars with regard to their
opinions. Through lazincfs and indifference
about truth, they leave to others the drudgery
of digging for this commodity ; they can have
enough at fecond hand to ferve their occafions.
Their concern is not to know what is true,
but what is faid and thought onfuch fubjefts;
and their underftanding, like their cloathsy
is cut according to the fafliion.

This diftemper of the underffanding has
taken fo deep root in a great part of mankind,
that it can hardly be faid that they ufe their
own judgment in things that do not concern
their tem.poral interelf ; nor is it peculiar to
the ignorant; it infe6ls all ranks. We may
guefs their opinions when we know where they
were born, of v/hat parents, how educated,
and what company they have kept. Thefe cir-
cumflances determine their opinions in religi-
on, in Dolitics, and in philofophv.

2. A

Of PREJUDICES, the Catifcs of ERROR. 355

1. A fecond general prejudice arifes from aC H A P.
dlfpofition to meafure things lefs known, and ^^
lefs familiar, by thofe that are better known
and more familiar.

This is the foundation of analogical reafon-
Ing, to which we have a great pronenefs by
nature, and to it indeed we owe a great part
of our knowledge. It would be abfurd to lay
afide this kind of reafoning altogether, and it
is difficult to judge how far we may venture
upon it. The bias of human nature is to judge
from too flight analogies.

The objefts of fenfe engrofs our thoughts
in the firft part of life, and are mod familiar
through the whole of it. Hence in all ages
men have been prone to attribute the human
figure and human paffions and frailties- to fupe-
rior intelligences, and even to the Supreme
Being.

There is a difpofition iji men to materialize
every thing, if I may be allowed the expreffion ;
that is, to apply the notions we have of mate-
rial objeds to things of another nature.
Thought is confidered as analogous to motion
in a body; and as bodies are put in motion by
impulfes, and by impreffions made upon them
by contiguous objefts, we are apt to conclude
that the mind is made to think by impreffions
made upon it, and that there muft be fome
kind of contiguity between it and the obje6ts
of thought. Hence the theories of ideas and
impreffions have fo generally prevailed.

Becaufe the moft perfect works of human
artiits are made after a model, and of mate-
rials that before exifted, the ancient Philofo-
phers univerfally believed that the world was
made of a pre-exiftent uncreated matter ; and
A a 2 many

356 ESSAY VI.

CHAP, many of them, that there were eternal and un-
^ • created models of every fpecies of things which
God made.

The miftakes in common life, which are
owing to this prejudice, are innumerable, and
cannot efcape the fiighteft obfervation. Men
judge of other men by themfelves, or by the
fmail circle of their acquaintance. The felfifh
man thinks all pretences to benevolence and
public fpirit to be mere hypocrify or felf-deceit.
The generous and open hearted believe fair
pretences too eafily, and are apt to think men
better than they really are. The abandoned and
proiiigate can hardly be perfuaded that there
is any fuch thing as real virtue in the world.
The ruftic forms his notions of the manners
and characters of men from thofe of his coun-
try village, and is eafily duped when he comes
into a great city.

It is commonly taken for granted, that this
narrow way of judging of men is to be cured
only by an extenfive intercourfe with men of
dilTerent ranks, profeiTions, and nations; and
that the man whofe acquaintance has been con-
fined within a narrow circle, muft have many
prejudices and narrow notions, which a more
extenfive intercoufe would have cured.

3. Men are often led into error by the love

, of fimplicity, which difpofes us to reduce

tilings to few principles, and to conceive a

greater fimplicity in nature than- there really

is.

To love fimplicity, and to be pleafed with it
wherever we find it, is no imperfeftion, but
the contrary. It is" the refult of good tafte*.
We cannot but be pleafed to obferve, that all
the changes of motion produced by the colli-

fion

Of PREJUDICES, the Caufcs r/ERROR. -^^y

fion of bodies, hard, foft, or elaflic, are re-C H A P.
ducible to three fimple laws of motion, which "^1^^-
the induftry of Philofophers has difcovered. *^ "^

When we confider what a prodigious variety
of efFefts depend upon the law of gravitation ;
how many phsenomena in the earth, fea, and
air, which, in all preceding ages, had tortur-
ed the wits of Philofophers, and occafioned a
thoufand vain theories, are fliown to be the
neceffary confequences of this one law ; how
the whole fyftem of fun, moon, planets, pri-
mary and fecondary, and comets, are kept in
order by it, and their feeming irregularities
accounted for and reduced to accurate mea-
fure ; the fimplicity of the caufe, and the
beauty and variety of the efFed:s, mufl give
pleafure to every contemplative mind. By this
noble difcovery, we are taken, as it were, be-
hind the fcene in this great drama of Nature,
and made to behold fome part of the art of the
divine Author of this fyllem, which, before
this difcovery, eye had not feen, nor ear heard,
nor had it entered into the heart of man to
conceive.

There is, without doubt, in every work of
Nature all the beautiful fimplicity that is con-
fiflent with the end for which it was made.
But if we hope to difcover how Nature brings
about its ends, merely from this principle, that
it operates in the hmpleft and bed way, we
deceive ourfelves, and forget that the wifdoni
of Nature is more above the wifdom of man,
than man's wifdom is above that of a child.

If a child fhould fit down to contrive how a
city is to be fortified, or an army arranged in
the day of battle, he would, no doubt, con-
jecture what, to his underflanding, appeared

the

358 ESSAY VI.

C H A P. the fimpleft and beft way. But could he ever

^^__J5Jj hit upon the true way ? No furely. When he

learns from fa£l how thefe effecls are produced,

he will then fee how fooHfh his childilh con-

jeftures were.

We may learn fomething of the way in which
Nature operates, from faft and obfervatipn ;
but if we conclude that it operates in fuch a
manner, only becaufe to our underftanding,
that appears to be the beft and fimpleft manner,
we fliall always go wrong.

It was believed, for many ages, that all the
variety of concrete bodies we find on this globe
is reducible to four elements, of which they
are compounded, and into which they may be
refolved. It was the fimplicity of this theory,
and not any evidence from fact, that made it
to be fo generally received ; for the more it is
examined, we find the lefs ground to believe
it.

The Pythagoreans and Platonifts were car-
ried farther by the fame love of fimplicity.
Pythagoras, by his (kill in mathematics, dif-
covered, that there can be no more than five
regular folid figures, terminated by plain fur-
faces, which are all fimilar and equal ; to wit,
the tetrahedron, the cube, the octahedron, the
dodecahedron, and the eicofihedron. As Na-
ture works in the moft fimple and regular way,
he thought that all the elementary bodies muft
have one or other of thofe regular figures ;
and that the difcovery of the properties and
relations of the regular folids would be a key
to open the myfteries of Nature.

This notion of the Pythagoreans and Plato-
nifts has undoubtedly great beauty and fim-
plicity. Accordingly it prevailed, at leaft, to

the

0/PREJUDICES, the Caufes of ERROR. 359

the time of Euclid. He was a Platonic Phi-C HAP.
•lofopher, and is faid to have wrote all the ^^^^"
books of his Elements, in order to difcover the'
properties and relations of the five regular fo-
lids. This ancient tradition of the intention
of Euclid in writing his Elements, is coun-
tenanced by the work itfelf. For the laft books
of the Elements treat of the regular foiids, and
all the preceding are fubfervient to the laft.

So that this moft ancient mathematical
-work, which, for its admirable compofition,
has ferved as a model to all fucceeding writers
in mathematics, feem.s, like the firft two books
of Newton's Principia, to have been intended
by its author to exhibit the mathematical prin-
ciples of natural philofophy.

It was long believed, that all the qualities
of bodies, and all their medical virtues, were
reducible to four ; moifture and dryneis, heat
and cold : And that there are only four tem-
peraments of the human body ; the fanguine,
the melancholy, the bilious, and the phlegm
matic. The chemical fyftem, of reducing all
"bodies to fait, fulphur, and mercury, vi^as of
the fame kind. For how many ages did men
•believe, that the divifion of all the objeds of
thought into ten categories, and of all that
can be affirmed or denied of any thing, into
five univerfals or predicables, were perfect
enumerations ?

The evidence from reafon that could be
produced for thofe fyftems was next to no-
thing, and bore no proportion to the ground
they gained in the belief of men ; but they
were fimple and regular, and reduced things
to a few principles j and this fupplied their
want of evidence.

Of

36o ESSAY VI.

CHAP. Of all the fyftems we know, that of Des
^^^^' Cartes was moft remarkable for its fimplici-

^^'^''^^ ty. Upon one propofition, I think, he builds
the whole fabric of human knowledge. And
from mere matter, with a certain quantity ot
motion given it at hrft, he accounts for all the
ph^enomena of the material world.

The phyfical part of this fyftem was mere
hypothefis. It had nothing to recommend it
but its hmplicity ; yet it had force enough to
overturn the fyflem of Aristotle, after that
fyfhem had prevailed for more than a thoufand
years.

The principle of gravitation, and other at-
tracting and repelling forces, after Sir Isaac
Newton had given the ftrongefl evidence of
their real exiftence in Nature, were rejeded
by the greateft part of Europe for half a cen-
tury, becaufe they could not be accounted for
by matter and motion. So much were men
enamoured with the hmpHcity of the Cartefian
fyftem.

Nay, 1 apprehend, it was this love of fim-
plicity, more than real evidence, that led
Newton himfelf to fay, in the preface to his
Principia, fpeaking of the phfenomena of the
material world, " Nam multa me movent ut
*' nonnihii fufpicer, ea omnia ex viribus qui-
" bufdam pendere poife, quibus corporuni
" particute, per caufas nondum cognitas, vel
" in fe mutuo impelluntur, et fecundum figu-
** rns regulares cohasrent, vel ab invicem fu-
" gantur et recedunt." For certainly we have
no evidence from faft, that all the phtenome-
na of the material world are produced by at-
tracting or repelling forces.

With

0/PREJUDICES, the Caufes of ERROR. 361

With his ufual modefly, he propofes it only C H A P.
as a flight fufpicion ; and the ground of this . [i^
fafpicion could only be, that he faw that many
of the phjcnomena of Nature depended upon
caufes of this kind : and therefore was difpo-
fed, from the limplicity of Nature, to think
that all do.

When a real caufe is difcovered, the fame
love of limplicity leads men to attribute efteds
to it which are beyond its province.

A medicine that is found to be of jrreat ufe
in one diftemper, commonly has its virtues
multiplied, till it becomes a panacea. 1 hofe
who have lived long, can recoliecl many in-
(lances of this. In other branches of know-
ledge, the fame thing often happens. V\^hen
the attention of men is turned to any particu-
lar caufe, by difcovering it to have remarkable
effedts, they are in great danger of extending
its influence, upon flight evidence, to things
with which it has no connection. Such pre-
judices arife from the natural defire of fim-
plifying natural caufes, and of accounting for
many phsenomena from the fame principie.

4. One of the moll copious fources oi error
in philofophy is the mifapplication of our no-
blell intellectual power to purpoies for which
it is incompetent.

Of all the intellectual powers of man, that
of invention bears the higheii price. It re-
fembles mofl the power of creation, and is ho-
noured with that name.

We admire the man who fliews a fuperiority
in the talent of finding the means of accom-
plifning an end ; who can, by a happy com-
bination, produce an effect, or make a difco-
very beyond the reach of other men j who can

draw

362 ESSAY VI.

CHAP, draw Important conclufions from circumftan-
• ces that commonly pafs unobferved ; who
judges with the greateft fagacity of the defigns
of other men, and the confequences of his own
adions. To this fuperiority of underflanding
we give the name of genius, and look up with
admiration to every thing that bears the marks
of it.

Yet this power, fo highly valuable in itfelf,
and fo ufeful in the conduct of life, may be
mifapplied ; and men of genius, in all ages,
have been prone to apply it to purpofes for
which it is altogether incompetent.

The works of men and the works of Nature
are not of the fame order. The force of geni-
us may enable a man perfeftly to comprehend
the former, and to fee them to the bottom.
What is contrived and executed by one man
may be perfe6tly underftood by another man.
With great probability, he may from a part
conjefture the whole, or from the effedU may
conjecture the caufes ; becaufe they are effects
of a wifdom not fuperior to his own.

But the works of Nature are contrived and
executed by a wifdom and power infinitely fu-
perior to that of man ; and when men attempt,
by the force of genius, to difcover the caufes
of the phsenomena of Nature, they have only
the chance of going wrong more ingenioufly.
Their conjectures may appear very probable to
beings no wifer than themfelves ; but they have
no chance to hit the truth- They are like the
conjectures of a child how a fhip of war is built,
and how it is managed at fea.

Let the man of genius try to make an ani-
mal, even the meanefl ; to make a plant,
or even a fmgle leaf of a plant, or feather
of a bird 5 he will find that all his wif-
dom

I

0/PREJUDICES, the Caufes of ERROR. -^fil

dom and fagacity can bear no comparifon with^ ^^.^ ^*
the wifdom of Nature, nor his power with the ^^^^\^
power of Nature.

The experience of all ages {hows how prone
ingenious men have been to invent hypothefes
to explain the phacnomena of Nature ; how
fond, by a kind of anticipation, to difcover
her fecrets. Inftead of a flow and gradual af-
cent in the fcale of natural caufes, by a juft
and copious induction, they would fhorten the
work, and, by a flight of genius, get to the
top at once. This gratifies the pride of hu-
man underflanding ; but it is an attempt be-
yond our force, like that of Phaeton to guide
the chariot of the fun.

When a man has. laid out all his ingenuity
in fabricating a fyftem, he views it with the
eye of a parent ; he flrains phasnomena to
make them tally with it, and make it look
like the work of Nature.

The flow and patient method of induftion,
the only way to attain any knowledge of Na-
ture's work, was little underflood until it was
delineated by Lord Bacon, and has been lit-
tle follov/ed fmce. It humbles the pride of
man, and puts him conftantly in mind that his
molt ingenious conjeftures with regard to the
works of God are pitiful and childilh.

There is no room here for the favourite ta-
lent of invention. In the humble method of
information, from the great volume of Nature
we muft receive all our knowledge of Nature.
"Whatever is beyond a juft interpretation of
that volume is the work of man ; and the
work of God ought not to be contaminated by
any mixture with it.

To

364 ESSAY VI.

CHAP. To a man of eenlus, felf-denial is a difficult
^^___V leffon in philofophy as well as in religion. To
bring his fine imaginations and mod ingeni-
ous conjectures to the fiery trial of experiment
and induction, by which the greater part, if
not the whole, will be found to be drofs, is a
humiliating tafk. This is to condemn him to
dig in a mine, when he would fly with the
wings of an eagle.

In all the fine arts, whofe end is to pleafe,
genius is defervedly fupreme. In the condud:
of human affairs it often does wonders ; but
in all enquiries into the conilitution of Nature
it mufl aft a fubordinate part, ill-fuited to the
fuperiority it boafls. It may combine, but it
mud not fabricate. It may collect evidence,
but muft not fupply the want of it by conjec-
ture. It may difplay its powers by putting
Nature to the queftion in well-contrived expe-
riments, but it muft add nothing to her an-
fwers.

5. In avoiding one extreme, men are very
apt to rufh into the oppofite.
. Thus, in rude ages, men, unaccuflomed
to fearch for natural caufes, afcribe every un-
common appearance to the immediate interpo-
fition of invifible beings ; but when philofo-
phy has difcovered natural caufes of many
events, which, in the days of ignorance, were
afcribed to the immediate operation of gods or
daemons, they are apt to think, that all the
phsenomena of Nature may be accounted for
in the fame way, and that there is no need of
an invifible Maker and Governor of the world.

Rude men are at firft difpofed to afcribe in-
telligence and active power to every thing they
fee move or undergo any change. " Savages,

" fays

0/PREJUDICES, the Caufes of ERROR. z^S

" fays the Abbe Raynal, wherever they fee^H A P,
*' motion which they cannot account for, there '

" they fuppofe a foul." When they come to
be convinced of the folly of this extreme, they
are apt to run into the oppofite, and to think
that every thing moves only as it is moved,
and a(9:s as it is aded upon.

Thus, from the extreme of fuperftition, the
trahfition is eafy to that of atheifm ; and from
the extreme of afcribing activity to every part
of Nature, to that of excluding it altogether,
and making even the determinations of intelli-
gent beings, the links of one fatal chain, or
the wheels of one great machine.

The abufe of occult qualities in the Peripa-
tetic philofophy led Des Cartes and his fol-
lowers to rejed all occult qualities ; to pretend
to explain all the phaenomena of Nature by
mere matter and motion, and even to fix dif-
grace upon the name of occult quality.

6. Mens judgments are often perverted by
their affeclions and paflions. This is fo com-
monly obferved, and fo univerfally acknow-
ledged, that it needs no proof nor illuftration.

The fecond clafs of idols in Lord Bacon's
divifion are the idola fpecus.

Thefe are prejudices which have their ori-
gin, not from the conflitution of human na-
ture, but from fomething peculiar to the indi-
vidual.

As in a cave objeds vary in their appear-
ance according to the form of the cave and the
maimer in which , it receives the Hght, Lord
Bacon conceives the mind of every man to
refemble a cave, which has its particular form,
and its particular manner of being enlightened ;
and, from thefe circumftances, often gives

falfe

366

ESSAY

VI.

C fi /> r. ialfe colours and a delufive appearance to ob-
_ • jeers ken m it.

For this reafon, he gives the name of idola
fpcciis to thofe prejudices which arife from the
particular way in which a man has been train-
ed, from his being addicted to fome particular
profeffion, or from fomething particular in the
turn of his mind.

A man whofe thoughts have been confined
to a certain track by his profeffion or manner
of life, is very apt to judge wrong when he
ventures out of that track. He is apt to draw
every thing within the fphere of his profeffion,
and to judge by its maxims of things that have
no relation to it.

The mere Mathematician is apt to apply
meafure and calculation to things which do not
admit of it. DireQ: and inverfe ratios have
been applied by an ingenious author to meafure
human afleftions, and the moral worth of
anions. An eminent Mathematician attem.pted
lo afcertain by calculation, the ratio in which
the evidence of facts muft decreafe in the courfe
of time, and fixed the period when the evi-
dence of the facts on which Chriftianity is
founded fhall become evanefcent, and when in
confequence no faith fliall be found on the
earth. I have feen a philofophical diffi^rtation
publifhed by a very good Mathematician,
wherein, in oppofition to the ancient divifion
of things into ten categories, he maintains that
there are no more, and can be no more than
tvv'o categories, to wit, data and qiiafita.

The ancient Chemifts were wont to explain
all the myfteries of Nature, and even of religi-
on, by fait, fulphur, and mercury.

Mr.

Of PREJUDICES, the Caufes of ERROR. 367

Mr. Locke, I think, mentions an eminent C HAP.
Mufician, who believed that God created the ^'^^^'
world in fix days, and refted the fevcnth, be- *— ""V"^
caufe there are but feven notes in mufic. I
knew one of that profeflion, who thought that
there could be only three parts in harmony, to
wit, bafs, tenor, and treble ; becaufe there
are but three perfons in the Trinity.

The learned and ingenious Dr. Henry
More having very elaborately and methodically
compiled his Erichiridiian Metaphyficwn, and
Enchiridiian Ethicum^ found all the divifions
and fubdivifions of both to be allegorically
taught in the firfi: chapter of Genefis. Thus
even very ingenious men are apt to make a ri-
diculous figure, by drawing into the track, in
which their thoughts have long run, things
altogether foreign to it.

Different perfons, either from temper or
from education, have different tendencies of
underflanding, which, by their excefs, are un-
favourable to found judgment.

Some have an undue admiration of antiquity,
and contempt of whatever is modern j others
go as far into the contrary extreme. It may
be judged, that the former are perfons who
value themfelves upon their acquaintance with
ancient authors, and the latter fuch as have
little knowledge of this kind.

Some are afraid to venture a ftep out of the
beaten track, and think it fafefl to go with the
multitude ; others are fond of fmgularities,
and of every thing that has the air of paradox.

Some are defultory and changeable in their
opinions ; others unduly tenacious. Mofl men
have a predileftion for the tenets of their fed
or party, and flill more for their own inven-
tions.

The

363

ESSAY

VI.

CHAP.
Vllf.

The idola fori are the fallacies arifing from
the impcrfedions and the abufe of language,
which is an inflrument of thought as well as of
the communication of our thoughts.

o

Whether it be the effect of conflitution or of
habit, I will not take upon me to determine ;
bur, from one or both of thefe caufes, it hap-
pens, that no man can purfue a train of thought
or reafoning without the ufe of language.
Words are the ngns of our thoughts ; and the
fign is fo aiTociated with the thing fignified,
that the lafl can hardly prefent itfelf to the ima-
gination, without drawing the other along
with it.

A man who would compofe in any language,
muit think in that language. If he thinks in
one language what he would exprefs in ano-
ther, he thereby doubles his labour, and after
all, his expreinons will have more the air of a
tranflaticn than of an orie:inal.

This fliows that our thoughts take their co-
lour in fome degree from the language we ufe ;
and that, although language ought always to
be fubfervicnt to thought, yet thought mud be
at fome times, andin fome degree, fubfervient
to language.

As a fervant that Is extremely ufcful and ne-
ceiTary to his mailer, by degrees acquires an
authority over him, fo that the mafter mud
often yield to the fervant; fuch is the cafe with
anguage. Its intention is to be a
but it is fo ufeful
and fo neceilary, that we cannot avoid being
fometimes led by it when it ought to foUoV'/.
We cannot Ihake of this impediment, we mud
drag it along vvith us ; and therefore mud
direct our courfe, and regulate our pace, as
it permits. .

Language

regard to

fervant to the underdanding ,

Of PREJUDICES, the Caufes 0/ ERROR. 369

Language mufl: have many imperfedionsC H AP.
when applied to philofophy, becaufe it was not ,J/i[^
made for that ufe. In the early periods of
fociety, rude and ignorant men ufe certain
forms of fpeech, to exprefs their wants, their
defires, and their tranfaclions with one another.
Their language can reach no farther than their
fpeculations and notions ; and if their notions
be vague and ill defined, the words by which
they exprefs them muft be fo likewife.

It was a grand and noble proje£l of Bifhop
"WiLKiNs, to invent a philofophical language,
which fhould be free from the imperfeftions of
vulgar languages. Whether this attempt will
ever fucceed, fo far as to be generally ufeful,
I fliall not pretend to determine. The great
pains taken by that excellent man in this defign
have hitherto produced no effect. Very few
have ever entered minutely into his views j far
lefs have his philofophical language and his
real charadter been brought into ufe.

He founds his philofophical language and
real character upon a fyflematisal divifion and
fubdivifion of all the things which may be ex-
preffed by language, and, inftead of the an-
cient divificn into ten categories, has made
forty categories, ox fum-nia genera. But whe-
ther this divifion, though made by a very com-
prehenfive mind, will always fuit the various
fyftems that may be introduced, and all the real
improvements that may be made in human
knowledge, may be doubted. The difF.culty
is flill greater in the fubdivifions \ fo that it is
to be feared, that this noble attempt of a great
genius will prove abortive, until Philofophers
Vol. II. B b havs

Z7^

ESSAY VI.

C li A P have the fame cpinions and the fame fyftemsiii
^\^'^- the tafioiis branches of human knowledge.

There is more reafon to hope, that the lan-
guage ufed by Philofophers may be gradually
ittiproved in copioufnefs and in diftinftnefs j
and that improrents in knowledge and in lan-
guage may go hand in hand, and facilitate each
other. Bet I fear the imperfeclions of lan-
guage can never be perfectly remedied while
our knowledge is imperfecl.

•However this may be, it is evident that the
itiipeiieclions of language, and much more the
aDufe of it, are the occafion of many errors ;
and that in many difputes which have engaged
learned men, the difference has been partly,
and in fome wholly, about the meaning of
words.

Mr. Locke found it necelTary to employ a
fourth part of his Effay on Human Underftand-
ing about words ; their various kinds ; their
imperfedion and abufe, and the remedies of
both ; and has made many obfervations up-
on thefe fubkcts, well worthy of attentive
perufal.

The fourth clafs of prejudices are the iddla
theatric by which are meant prejudices arifing
from the fyftems or feds, in which we have
been trained, or which we have adopted.

A falfe fyftem once fixed in the mind, be-
comes, as it were, the medium through which
V. e fee obje£ls : They receive a tindure from
it, and appear of another colour than when
feen by a pure light.

Upon the lam.e fubjeS:, a Platonift, a Peri-
patetic, and aii Epicurean, will think diffe-
rently, not only in matters connected with his

peculiar

Of PREJUDICES, the Caufes 0/ ERROR. 371

peculiar tenets, but even in things remote from CHAP,
them. ^ ^'"^•

A judicious hiftory of the different feels of
Philofophers, and the different methods of
philofophifmg, which have obtained among
mankind, would be of no fmall ufe to direft
men in the fearch of truth. In fuch a hiflory,
what would be of the greateft moment is not
fo much a minute detail of the dogmata of each
fed, as a juft dehneation of the fpirit of the
fed, and of that point of view in which things
appeared to its founder. This was perfectly
underftood, and, as far as concerns the the-
ories of morals, is executed with great judg-
ment and candour by Dr. Smith in his Theo-
ry of moral fentiments.

As there are certain temperaments of the
body that difpofe a man more to one clafs of
difeafes than to another; and, on the other
hand, difeafes of that kind, when they happen
by accident, are apt to induce the tempera-
ment that is fuited to them ; there is fome-
thing analogous to this in the difeafes of the
underftanding.

A certain complexion of underftanding may
difpofe a man to one fyflem of opinions more
than to another; and, on the other hand, a
fyftem of opinions, fixed in the mind by edu-
cation or otherwife, gives that complexion to
the underftanding which is fuited to them.

It were to be wifhed, that the different fyf-
tems that have prevailed could be claffed ac-
cording to their fpirit, as well as named from
their founders. Lord Bacon has diftinsuifhed
falfe philofophy into the fophiftical, the empi-
rical, and the fuperftitious, and has made ju-
B b 2 dicious

^72

ESSAY

VI.

^ vm ^' ^'^^^^^^ obfervations upon each of thefe kinds.
^^^ryr■:^^ S"t I apprehend this fubjed deferves to be

treated more fully by fuch a hand, if fuch a

hand can be found.

ESSAY

37-3

Baa— ?g«aai— M'ii.i-B«w<.j»i-ijLjHa,a'!f.j/ ^ J-J /^ p

ESSAY VII.

O ¥ REASONING,
CHAP. L

Of Reafoning in general, and of Demonfiration»

'T"^HE power of reafoning Is very nearly
I allied to that of judging ; and it is of
little confequence in the common affairs of life
to diftinguilh them nicely. On this account,
the fame name is often given to both. We
include both under the name of reafon. The
.aifent we give to a propofition is called judg-
ment, whether the propofition be felf-evident,
or derive its evidence by reafoning from other
propofitions.

Yet there is a diflinction between reafoning
and judging. Reafoning is the procefs by
which we pafs from one judgment to another
which is the confequence of it. Accordingly
our judgments are diftinguiflied into intuitive,
which are not grounded upon any preceding
judgment, and difcurfive, v/hich are deduced
fromfome preceding judgment by reafoning.

In all reafoning, therefore, there muft be
a propofition inferred, and one or more from
which it is inferred. And this power of in-
ferring, or drawing a conclufion, is only another

name

I.

374

ESSAY

VII.

CHAP, name for reafoning ; the propofitlon inferred
hting c2i\\ed the conchijton^ and the propofition,
or propofitions from which it is inferred, the
preniifcs.

Reafoning may confift of many fteps ; the
firft conclufion being a premife to a fecond,
that to a third, and fo on, till we come to the
laft conclufion, A procefs confiding of many
fteps of this kind, is fo eafily dillinguiflied
from judgment, that it is never called by that
name. But when there is only a fingle Itep to
the conclufion, the diftindion is lefs obvious,
and the procefs is fometimes called judgment,
fometimes reafoning.

It is not ftrange, that, in common difcourfe,
judgment and reafoning fhould not be very
nicely diftinguiflied, fince they are in fome
cafes confounded even by Logicians. We are
taught in logic, that judgment is exprefled by
one propofition, but that reafoning requires
two or three. But fo various are the modes of
fpeech, that what in one mode is exprefled by
two or three propofitions, may in another
mode be exprefled by one. Thus I may fay,
God is good; therefore good men JJjall be happy.
This is reafoning, of that kind which Logici-
ans call an enthymeme, confifl:ing of an ante-
cedent propofition, and a conclufion drawn
from it. But this reafoning may be exprefled
by one propofition, thus : Becaiife God is goody
good men Jhall be happy. This is what they call
a caufal propofition, and therefore exprefles
judgment; yet the enthymeme which is rea-
foning, expreiles no more.

Reafoning, as well as judgment, mufl: be
true or falfej both are grounded upon evi-
dence

Of Reafoning, and of Demonjlraikn. $7$

dence which may be probable or demonfcrative, ^ ^^ ^'•
and both are accompanied with affent or be-
lief.

The power of reafoning is juftly accounted
one of the prerogatives of human nature;
becaufe by it many important truths have been,
and may be difcovered, which without it would
be beyond our reach; yet it feems to be only
a kind of crutch to a limited underftandino-.

o

We can conceive an underftanding, fuperior
to human, to which that truth appears intui-
tively, which we can only difcover by reafon-
ing. For this caufe, though we mud afcribe
judgment to the Almighty, we do not afcribe
reafoning to him, becaufe it implies fome de-
fe6t or limitation of underftanding. Even
among men, to ufe reafoning in things that
are felf-evident, is trifling ; like a man going
Aipon crvitches when he can walk upon his
legs.

What reafoning is, can be underftood only
by a man v/ho has reafoned, and who is capa-
ble of receding upon this operation of his own
mind. We can define it only by fynonimous
words or phrafes, fuch as inferring, drawing
a conclufion, and the like. The very notion
of reafoning, therefore, can enter into the
mind by uo other channel than that of reflect-
ing upon the operation of reafoning in our own
minds ; and the notions of premifes and con-
clufion, of a fyllogifm, and all its conftituent
parts, of an entbymeme, forites, demonflra-
tion, paralogifm, and many others, have the
fame origin.

It is Nature undoubtedly that gives us the
capacity of reafoning. When this is wanting,
^o art nor education can fupply it. But this

capacity

376 ESSAY VII.

CHAP, capacity may be dormant through life, like the
^- feed of a plant, which, for want of heat and
' 'moifture, never vegetates. This is probably
the cafe of fome favages.

Although the capacity be purely the gift of
Nature, and probably given in very different
degrees to different perfons ; yet the power of
reafoning feems to be got by habit, as much as
the power of walking or running. Its firffc ex-
ertions vve are not able to recollect in ourfelves,
or clearly to difcern in others. They are ve-
ry feeble, and need to be led by example,
and fupported by authority. By degrees it
acquires flrength, chiefly by means of imitati-
on and exercife.

The exercife of reafoning on various fub-
je£ts not only ftrengthens the faculty, but fur-
nilhes the mind with a flore of materials. Eve-
ry train of reafoning, which is familiar, be-
comes a beaten track in the way to many
others. It removes many obftacles which lay
in our w^ay, and fmooths many roads which
we may have occafion to travel in future dif-
quifitions.

When men of equal natural parts apply
their reafoning power to any fubjedt, the man
who has reafoned much on the fame, or on fi-
milar fubjeds, has a like advantage over him
who has not, as the mechanic wdio has ftore
of tools for his work, has of him who has his
tools to make, or even to invent.

In a train of reafoning, the evidence of
every flep, where nothing is left to be fup-
plied by the reader or hearer, muft be imme-
diately difcernible to every man of ripe under-
(landing who hasadiflinctcomprehenfion of the

premifes

Of Reafoning, and of Demonjiration. 377

premifes and conclufion, and who compares them C H A P.
together. To be able to comprehend, in one
view, a combination of fteps of this kind, is
more difficult, and feems to require a fuperior
natural ability. In all, it may be much im-
proved by habit.

But the higheft talent in reafoning is the in-,
vention of proofs ; by which, truths remote
from the premifes are brought to light. In all
works of underftanding, invention has the
higheft pralfe ; it requires an extenfive view
of what relates to the fubjeft, and a qiiicknefs
in difcerning thofe affipities and relations which
may be fubfervient to the purpofe.

In all invention there mull be fome end in
view : And fagacity in finding out the road
that leads to this end, is, I think, what we
call invention. In this chiefly, as I apprehend,
and in clear and diftinfl conceptions, confifts
that fuperiority of underilanding which v/e call
genius.

In every chain of reafoning, the evidence
of the laft conclufion can be no greater than
that of the weakeft link of the chain, whatever
may be the ftrength of the reft.

The moft remarkable diftinclion of reafonings
is, that fome are probable, others demonilra-
tive.

In every ftep of demonftrative reafoning,
the inference is neceifary, and we perceive it
to be impofiible that the conclufion fliould not
follow from the premifes. In probable reafon-
ing, the connection between the premifes, and
the conclufion is not neceifary, nor do we per-
ceive it to be impoffible that the firfl fliould be
true while the laft is falfe.

Henqe

378 ESSAY VII.

CHAP, Hence demonftrative reafoning has no de-
,__ grees, nor can one demonftration be ftronger
than another, though, in relation to our fa-
culties, one may be more eafily comprehended
than another. Every demonftration gives
equal flrength to the conclufion, and leaves
no poffibiiity of its being falfe.

It vi-as, 1 think, the opinion of all the anci-
ents, that demonftrative reafoning can be ap-
plied only to truths that are neceffary, and not
to thofe that are contingent. In this, I be-
lieve, they judged right. Of all created
things, the exiftence, the attributes, and con-
fequently the relations refulting from thofe at-
tributes, are contingent. They depend upon
the will and power of him who made them.
Thefe are matters of fadt, and admit not of
demonftration.

The field of demonftrative reafoning, there-
fore, is the various relations of things abftra£l,
that is, of things which we conceive, without
regard to their exiftence. Of thefe, as they
are conceived by the mind, and are nothing
but what they are conceived to be, we may
have a clear and adequate comprehenfion.
Their relations and attributes are necefiary
and immutable. They are the things to which
the Pythagoreans and Platonifts gave the name
of ideas. I would beg leave to borrow this
meaning of the word idea from thofe ancient
Philofophers, and then I muft agree with them,
that ideas are the only objefts about which we
can reafon demonftratively.

There are many even of our ideas about
which we can carry on no confiderable train,
of reafoning. Though they be ever fo well
defined and perfedly comprehended, yet their

agreements

Of Reafoning, and of Dcmonjiration. 2>79

agreements and difagreements are few, and^HAP,
thefe are difcerned at once. We may go a
flep or two in forming a conclufion with re-
gard to fuch objects, but can go no farther.
There are others, about which we may, by a
long train of demonftrative reafoning, arrive
at conclufions very remote and unexpected.

The reafonings I have met with that can be
called flridly demonftrative, may, I think, be
reduced to two claiTes. They are either meta-r
phyfical, or they are mathematical.

In metaphyseal reafoning, the procefs is
always fhort. The conclufion is but a ftep or
two, feldom more, from the firft principle or
axiom on which it is grounded, and the dif-
ferent conclufions depend not one upon ano-
ther.

It is otherwife in mathematical reafoning.
Here the field has no limits. One proportion
leads on to another, that to a third, and fo on
without end.

If it fliould be afked, why demonftriitive
reafoning has fo wide a field in mathematics,
while, in other abftract fubjecls, it is confined
within very narrow limits ? I conceive this is
chiefly owing to the nature of quantity, the
objeft of mathematics.

Every quantity, as it has magnitude, and is
divifible into parts without end, fo, in ref-
peft of its magnitude, it has a certain ratio to
every quantity of the kind. The ratios of
quantities are innumerable, fuch as, a half,
a third, a tenth, double, triple. All the pow-
ers of number are infufficient to exprefs the
variety of ratios. For there are innumerable
ratios which cannot be perfeftly expreffed by
numbers, fuch as, the ratio of the fide to the

diagonal

38o ESSAY Vir.

CHAP, diagonal of a fquare, of the circumference of
J-_ a circle to the diameter. Of this infinite va-
riety of ratios, every one may be clearly con-
ceived, and diftindly exprefled, fo as to be
in no danger of being miflaken for any other.

Extended quantities, fuch as lines, furfaces,
folids, befides the variety of relations they
have ' in refpe£t of magnitude, have no lefs
variety in refpect of figure; and every mathe-
matical figure may be accurately defined, fo as
to diftinguifh it from all others.

There is nothing of this kind in other ob-
jects of abftracl reafoning. Some of them
have various degrees; but thefe are not capa-
ble of meafure, nor can be faid to have an
afiignable ratio to others of the kind. They
are either fimple, or compounded of a few in-
diviiible parts; and therefore, if we may be
allowed the expreifion, can touch only in few
points. But mathematical quantities being
made up of parts without number, can touch
in innumerable points, and be compared in
innumerable different ways.

There have been attempts made to meafure
the merit of adions by the ratios of the affec-
tions and principles of adion from which they
proceed. This may perhaps, in the way of
analogy, ferve to illuilrate what was before
known ; but I do not think any truth can be
difcovered in this way. There are, no doubt,
degrees of benevolence, felf-love, and other
affections ; but, when we apply ratios to them,
I apprehend we have no diftinft meaning.

Some demonflrations are called dired,
others indireO;. The firfh kind leads direftly
to the conclufion to be proved. Of the indi-
red fome are called demonflrations ad abfur-

dunu

Of Reafonini^ and of Demonfiration, 381

dum. In thefe the propofition contradictory CHAP,
to that which is to be proved is demonftrated ^•
to be falfe, or to lead to an abfurdity ; whence ^""^''"""^
it follows, that its contradictory, that is, the
propofition to be proved, is true. This infe-
rence is grounded upon an axiom in logic.
That of two contradictory propofitions, if one
be falfe, the other muft be true.

Another kind of indirect demonfiration
proceeds by enumerating all the fuppofitions
that can polTibly be made concerning the pro-
pofition to be proved, and then demonftrating,
that all of them, excepting that which is to
be proved, are falfe; whence it follows, that
the excepted fuppofition is true. Thus one
line is proved to be equal to another, by prov-
ing firft that it cannot be greater, and then
that it cannot be lefs : For it muft be either
greater, or lefs, or equal; and two of thefe
fuppofitions being demonftrated to be falfe, the
third muft be true.

All thefe kinds of demonftration are ufed
in mathematics, and perhaps fome others.
They have all equal ftrength. The dired de-
monftration is preferred where it can be had,
for this reafon only, as I apprehend, becaufe
it is the ftiorteft road to the conclufion. The
nature of the evidence and its ftrength is the
fame in all: Only we are conducted to it by
different roads.

CHAP.

C.82 ESSAY VII.

C H A P. 11.

Whether Morality be capable of Demon/iration*

WHAT has been faid of demonftrative
reafoning may help us to judge of
an opinion of Mr. Loc ke, advanced in feve-
rai places of his ElTay; to wit, " That morahty
" is capable of demonftration as well as ma-
" thematics."

In book 3. chap. 1 1. having obferved, that
mixed modes, c£pecially thofe belonging to
morality, being fuch combinations of ideas as
the mind puts together of its own choice, the
fignification of their names may be perfecily
and exactly defined, he adds,

Se6t. 16. " Upon this ground it is that I am
" bold to think, that morality is capable of
" demonftration as well as mathematics: Since
*' the precife real elTence of the things moral
" words {land for may be perfectly known,
" and fo the congruity or incongruity of the
" things themfeives be jcertainly difcovered, in
" which confifts perfect knowledge. Nor let
*' any one object, That the names of fubllan-
" ces are often to be made uie of in morality,
" as well as ihofe of modes, from which will
" arife obfcurity : For, as to fubftances, when
" concerned in moral difcourfes, their divers
" natures are not fo much enquired into as
" fuppofed: v. g. When we fay that man is
*' fubject to law, we mean nothing by man but
" a corporeal rational creature : What the real
" effence or other quahties of that creature are,
*' in this cafe, is no way confidered."

Again,

Of Reafonin^, and of Defnonflration. S^^f

Again, in book 4. ch. 3. § 18. " The idea^ HAP.
" of a Supreme Being, whofe workmanfliip '^
*' we are, and the idea of ourfelves, being
" fuch as are clear in us, would, I fuppofe, if
'^ duly confidered and purfued, afford fuch
" foundation of our duty and rules of action,
" as might place morality among the fciences
" capable of demonftration. The relation of
" other modes may certainly be perceived, as
" well as thofe of number and extenfion ; and
" I cannot fee why they lliould not be capable
" of demonftration, if due methods were
" thought on to examine or purfue their agree-
" ment or difagreement.'*

He afterwards gives as inftances two propo-
rtions, as moral propofitions of which we may
be as certain as of any in mathematics; and
confiders at large what may have given the ad-
vantage to the ideas of quantity, and made
them be thought more capable of certainty and
demonftration.

Again, in the 12th chapter of the fame
book, § 7, 8. " This I think I may fay, that
" if other ideas that are the real as well as no-
" minal elTences of their feveral fpecies, were
*' purfued in the way familiar to Mathematici-
" ans, they would carry our thoughts farther,
" and with greater evidence and clearnefs,
" than poffibly v/e are apt to imagine. This
" gave me the confidence to advance that con-
" jefl:ure which I fuggeft, chap. 3. 'viz. That
" morality is capable of demonftration as well
" as mathematics."

From thefe paffages it appears, that this opi-
nion was not a tranfient thought, but what he
had revolved in his mind on different occafions.
He offers liis reafons for it, illuftrates it by ex-
amples.

384 ESSAY VIL

CHAP, amples, and confiders at length the caufes that
have led men to think mathematics more capa-
'^'^^ble of demonflration than the principles of
morals.

Some of his learned correfpondents, parti-
cularly his friend Mr. Molyneux, urged and
importuned him to compofe a fyflem of morals
according to the idea he had advanced in his
Eifay ; and, in his anfwer to thefe folicitations,
he only pleads other occupations, without fug-
gelling any change of his opinion, or any
great dilficulty in the execution of what was
defired.

The reafon he gives for this opinion is inge-
nious ; and his regard for virtue, the higheft
prerogative of the human fpecies, made him
fond of an opinion which feemed to be favoura-
ble to virtue, and to have a jufl foundation
in reafon.

We need not, however, be afraid, that the
intereft of virtue may fuffer by a free and can-
did examination of this queflion, or indeed of
any queftion whatever. For the interefls of
truth and of virtue can never be found in oppo-
fition. Darknefs and error may befriend vice,
but can never be favourable to virtue.

Thofe Philofophers who think that our de-
terminations in morals are not real judgments,
that right and wrong in human conduft are
only certain feelings or fenfations in the per-
fon who contemplates the aftion, mull rejeft
Mr. Locke's opinion without examination.
For if the principles of morals be not a matter
of judgment, but of feeling only, there can be
no demonflration of them ; nor can any other
reafon be given for them, but that men are fo
conflituted by the Author of their being, as to

con-J

Whether Morality be Demonstrable. 385

contemplate with plcafure the aclions we call;
virtuous, and with difgucl thofe we call vi-
cious.

It is not therefore to be expecled, that the
Philofophers of this clafs fliould think this opi-
nion of Mr. Locke worthy of examination,
fince it is founded upon what they think afalfe
hypothefis. But if our determinations in mo-
rality be real judgments, and, like all other
judgments, be either true or falfe, it is not un-
important to underftand upon what kind of
evidence thofe judgments reft.

The arguments offered by Mr. Locke, to
jfliow that morality is capable of dcmonftration,
is, " That the precife real effence of the things
*' moral words ftand for, may be perfectly
" known, and fo the congruity or incongruity
" of the things themfelves be perfectly difco-
" vered, in which confifts perfe£t knowledge.'*

It is true, that the field of dcmonftration is
the various relations of things conceived ab-
ftracliy, of which we may have perfect and
adequate conceptions. And Mr. Locke,
taking all the things which moral words ftand
for to be of this kind, concluded that morahty
is as capable of dcmonftration as mathematics.

I acknowledge, that the names of the vir-
tues and vices, of right and obligation, of
liberty and property, ftand for things abftracl,
which may be accurately defined, or, at leaft,
conceived as diftindly and adequately as ma-
thematical quantities. And thence indeed it
follows, that their mutual relations may be per-
ceived as clearly and certainly as mathematical
truths.

Of this Mr. Locke gives two pertinent ex-
amples : The firft, " where there is no pro-

VoL. II. C c . " perty.

J

86 ESSAY VIL

CHAP." perty, there is no injudice, is, fays he, 2:
^ • '' propofition as certain as any demonftration
" in Euclid."

When injuftice is defined to be a violation
of property, it is as neceffary a truth, that
there can be no injuflice where there is no pro-
perty, as that you cannot take from a man
that which he has not.

The fecond example is, " That no govern-
" ment allows abfolute liberty.'* This is a
truth no lefs certain and necefiarv.

Such abilraci: truths I would call metaphyfical
rather than moral. We give the name of ma-
thematical, to truths that exprefs the relations
of quantifies confidered abflractly ; all other
abilracl truths may be called metaphyfical.
But if thofe mentioned by Mr. Locke are to
be called moral truths, I agree with him that
there are many fuch that are necelfarily true,
and that have all the evidence that mathematical
truths can have.

It- ought however to be remembered, that,
as was before obferved, the relations of things
abftracl, perceivable by us, excepting thofc of
mathematical quantities, are fev/, and for the
m.oit part immediately difcerned, fo as not to
require that train of reafoning which we call
demonftration. Their evidence refembles more
that of mathematical axioms than mathematical
propofitions.

This appears in the two propofitions given as
examples by Mr. Locke. The firft follows
immediately from the definition of injulHce ;
the fecond from the definition of govern-
ment. Their evidence may more properly be
called intuitive than demonflrativc : And this
I apprehend to be the cafe, or nearly the cafe

of

Whether Morality he Demonstrable. 387
of all abftraft truths that are not mathematical, ^ ^ ^^-

TT

for the reafon given in the laft chapter. v,-v-^

The propofitions which I think are properly
called moral, are thofe that affirm fome moral
obligation to be, or not to be incumbent on
one or more individual perfons. To fuch pro-
portions Mr. Locke's reafoning does not ap-
ply, becaufe the fubjecls of the propofition are
not things whofe real eflfence may be perfectly
known. They are the creatures of God ; their
obligation refults from the conflitution which
God hath given them, and the circumftances
in which he hath placed them. That an in-
dividual hath fuch a conflitution, and is placed
in fuch circumftances, is not an abftracl and
neceflary, but a contingent truth. It is a mat-
ter of fad, and therefore not capable of demon-
ftrative evidence, which belongs only to ne-
ceflary truths.

The evidence which every man hath of his
own exiftence, though it be irrefiftible, is not
demonflrative. And the fame thing may be
faid of the evidence which every man hath,
that he is a moral agent, and under certain
moral obligations. In like manner, the evi-
dence we have of the exiftence of other men is
not demonftrative ; nor is the evidence we have
of their being endowed with thofe faculties
which make them moral and accountable
agents.

If man had not the faculty given him by
God of perceiving certain things in condudtto
be right, and others to be wrong, and of per-
ceiving his obligation to do what is right, and
not to do what is wrong, he would not be a
moral and accountable being.

C c 2 If

,88 ESSAY VII.

If man be endowed with fuch a faculty^
there mud be fome things, which, by this fa*
cuUy, are immediately difcerned to be right,
and others to be wrong ; and therefore there
muft be in morals, as in other faiences, firfl
principles, which do not derive their evidence
from any antecedent principles, but may be
faid to be intuitively difcerned.

Moral truths, therefore, may be divided
into two clafles, to wit, fuch as are felf-evident
to every man whofe underftanding and moral
faculty are ripe, and fuch as are deduced by
reafoning from thofe that are felf evident. If
the firft be not difcerned without reafoning,
the lad never can be fo by any reafoning.

If any man could fay with fmcerity, that he
is confcious of no obligation to confult his own
prefent and future happinefs ; to be faithful to
his engagements ; to obey his Maker ; to in-
jure no man ; I know not what reafoning, ei-
ther probable or demonftrative, I could ufe to
convince him of any moral duty. As you
cannot reafon in mathematics with a man who
denies the axioms, as little can you reafon with
a man in morals who denies the firft principles
of morals. The man who does not, by the
light of his own mind, perceive fome things in
condu6t to be right, and others to be wrong,
is as incapable of reafoning about morals as a
blind man is about colours. Such a inan, if
any fuch man ever was, would be no m^oral
agent, nor capable of any moral obligation.

Some firfl principles of morals muft be im-
mediately difcerned, otherwife we have no
foundation on which others can reft, or from
v;hich we can reafon.

Every

Whether Morality be Demonstrable. 3^9

Every man knows certainly, that, what heC H Ai»-
approves in other men he ought to do in Hke ^"^•
circumftances, and that he ought not to do '-""^^""^
what he condemns in other men. Every man
knows that he ought, with candour, to ufe the
beft means of knowing his duty. To every
man who has a confcience, thefe things are
felf-evident. They are immediate dictates of
our moral faculty, which is a part of the
human conftitution ; and every man condemns
himfelf, whether he will or not, when he know-
ingly ads contrary to them. The evidence of
thefe fundamental principles of morals, and of
others that might be named, appears therefore
to me to be intuitive rather than demonflrative.

The man who ads according to the didates
of his confcience, and takes due pains to be
rightly informed of his duty, is a perfed man
with regard to morals, and merits no blame,
whatever may be the imperfedions or errors of
his underflanding. He who knowingly ads
contrary to them is confcious of guilt, and
felf-condemned. Every particular adion that
falls evidently within the fundamental rules of
morals is evidently his duty ; and it requires
310 reafoning to convince him that it is fo.
, Thus I think it appears, that every man of
Ixommon underflanding knows certainly, and
without reafoning, the ultimate ends he ought
to purfue, and that reafoning is neceffary only
to difcover the mod proper means of attaining
them ; and in this, indeed, a good man may
often be in doubt.

Thus, a Magiflrate knows that it is his duty
to promote the good of the community which
hath .entrufted him with authority ; and to offer
to prove this to him by reafoning would be to

affront

590 ESSAY VU.

V«»-V'"^^

CHAP. afFront him. But whether fuch a fcheme of
Jl'.^ condu6t in his office, or another, may befl
ferve that end, he may in many cafes be doubt-
ful. I beheve, in fuch cafes, he can very
rarely have demonflrative evidence. His con-
fcience determines the end he ought to purfue,
and he has intuitive evidence that his end is
good ; but prudence muft determine the means
of attaining that end ; and prudence can very
rarely ufe demonflrative reafoning, but muft
reft in what appears moft probable.

I apprehend, that in every kind of duty we
owe to God or man, the cafe is fimilar ; that
is, That the obligation of the moft general
rules of duty is felf-evident ; that the applica^
tion of thofe rules to particular adions is often
no lefs evident ; and that, when it is not evi-
dent, but requires reafoning, that reafoning
can very rarely be of the demonftrative, but
m.uft be of the probable kind. Sometimes it
depends upon the temper and talents and cir-
cumftances of the man himfclf ; fometimes up-
on the character and circumftances of others
fometimes upon both ; and thefe are things
which admit not of demonftratlon.

Every man is bound to employ the talents
which God hath given him to the beft purpofe ;
but if, through accidents which he could nc
forefee, or ignorance which was invinciblt
they be lefs ufefullv employed than they mis;!
have been, this will not be imputed to him b^
bis righteous Judge.

It is a common and a juft obfervation, ths
the man of virtue plays a furer game in ordej
to obtain his end than the man of the work
It is not, however, becaufe he reaf^ns better
concerning the means of attaining his end ;

for

Whether Morality be Demonstrable. 391

for the children of this world are often wiferC H A P,
in their generation than the children of hght. ^''•
But the reafon of the obfervation is, that invo- "v— ^
luntary errors, unforefcen accidents, and in-
vincible ignorance, which ailed deeply all the
concerns of the prefent world, have no efPecl
upon virtue or its reward.

In the common occurrences of life, a man of
integrity, who hath exercifed his moral faculty
in judging what is right and what is wrong,
fees his duty without reafoning, as he fees the
high way. The cafes that require reafoning
are few, compared with thofe that require
none ; and a man may be very honed and vir-
tuous who cannot reafon, and who knows not
what demonftration means.

The power of reafoning, in thofe that have
it, may be abufed in morals, as in other mat-
ters. To a man who ufes it with an upright
lieart, and a fmgle eye to find what is his duty,
it will be of great ufe ; but when it is ufed to
juftify what a man has a ftrong inclination to
do, it will only ferve to deceive himfelf and
others. When a man can reafon, his palli-
ons will reafon, and they are the mod cunning
fophifts we meet with.

If the rules of virtue were left to be difcover-
ed by demonftrative reafoning, or by reafoning
of any kind, fad would be the condition of the
far greater part of men, who have not the
means of cultivating the power of reafoning.
jAs virtue is the bufmefs of all men, the firil
principles of it are written in their hearts, in
characters fo legible, that no man can pretend
ignorance of them, or of his obligation to prac-
tife them.

Some

•92

ESSAY

VIL

Some knowledge of duty and of moral obli-
gation is neceffary to all men. Without it they
could not be moral and accountable creatures,
nor capable of being members of civil fociety.
It may therefore be prefumed, that Nature has
put this knowledge within the reach of all men.
Reafoning and demonftration are weapons
which the greatefl part of mankind never was
able to wield. The knowledge that is neceffary
to all, muft be attainable by all. We fee it is
fo in what pertains to the natural life of man.

Some knowledge of things that are ufeful,
and things that are hurtful^ is fo neceffary to
all men, that without it the fpecies would foon
perifh. But it is not by reafoning that this
knowledge is got, far lefs by dcmonflrative
reafoning. It is by our fenfes, by memory,
by experience, by information ; means of
knowledge that are open to all men, and put
the learned and the unlearned, thofe [who can
reafon and thofe who cannot, upon a level.

It may, therefore, be expefted from the
analogy of nature, that fuch a knowledge of
morals as is neceffary to all men, fhould be
had by means more fuited to the abilities of all
men than demonftrative reafoning is.

This, I apprehend, is in fa6l the cafe.
When mens faculties are ripe, the firfl princi-
ples of morals, into which all moral realbning
may be refolved, are perceived intuitively, and
in a manner more analogous to the perceptions
of fenfe than to the conclufions of demonflra-
,tive reafoning.

Upon the whole, I agree with Mr. Locke,
that propofiiions expreffmg the congruities and
incongruities of things abflraft, which mo-
ral words ftand for, may have all the evi-
dence

Whether Morality be Demonstrable. 393

dence of mathematical truths. But this is notC HAP.
peculiar to things which mora), words ftand ^_2z~~^
tor. It is common to abftract propofitions of
every kind. For inftance, you cannot take
from a man what he has not. A. man cannot
be bound and perfe6:ly free at the fame time.
I think no man will call thefe moral truths,
but they are neceflliry truths, and as evident as
any in mathematics. Indeed, they are very
nearly allied to the two which Mr. Locke gives
as inflances of moral proportions capable of
demonftration. Of fuch abftracl propofitions,
I think it may more properly be faid, that they
have the evidence of mathematical axioms,
than that they are capable of demonftration.

There are propofitions of another kind,
which alone deferve the name of moral propo-
fitions. They are fuch as affirm fomething to
be the duty of perfons that really exift. Thefe
are not abftrad; proportions ; and therefore
Mr. Locke's reafoning does not apply to them.
The truth of all fuch propofitions depends upon
the conftitution and circumftances of the per-
fons to whom they are applied.

Of fuch propofitions, there are fome that
are felf-evident to every man that has a confci-
ence ; and thefe are the principles from which
all moral reafoning muft be drawn. They may
be called the axioms of morals. But our rea-
foning from thefe axioms to any duty that is
not felf-evident, can very rarely be demonftra-
tive. Nor is this any detriment to the caufe of
virtue, becaufe to a6t againft what appears moll
probable in a matter of duty, is as real a tref-
pafs againft the firft principles of morality, as to
aft againft demonftration ; and becaufe he who
has but one talent in reafoning, and makes the

proper

394

ESSAY

VII.

CHAP, proper ufe of it, fhall be accepted, as well as
he to whom God has given ten.

CHAP. III.

Of probable Reafoning.

THE field of demonftration, as has been ob-
ferved, is neceffary truth ; the field of
probable reafoning is contingent truth, not
what neceffarily mud be at all times, but what
is, or was, or ihall be.

No contingent truth is capable of ftri6l de-
monftration ; but neceffary truths may fome-
times have probable evidence.

Dr. Wallis difcovered many important ma-
thematical truths, by that kind of induction
which draws a general conclufion from parti-
cular premifes. This is not flricl demonflra-
tion, but, in fome cafes, gives as full convic-
tion as demonftration itfelf ; and a man may
be certain, that a truth is demonftrable before
it ever has been demonftrated. In other cafes,
a mathematical propofition may have fuch pro-
bable evidence from induftion of analogy, as
encourages the Mathematician to invefligate
its demonftration. But ftill the reafoning pro-
per to mathematical and other neceffary truths,
is demonftration ; and that which is proper to
contingent truths, is probable reafoning.

Thefe two kinds of reafoning differ in other
refpetts. In demonftrative reafoning, one ar-
gument is as good as a thoufand. One de-
monftration may be more elegant than ano-
ther ; it may be more eafily comprehended,
or it may be more fubfervient to fome purpofe

beyond

OF PROBABLE REASONING. 395

beyond the prefent. On any of thcfe accounts^ ^,^^'
it may defcrye a preference : But then it is fuf- ^
ficient by itfelf ; it needs no aid from another ;
it can receive none. To add more demonllra-
tions of the fame conclufion, would be a kind
of tautology in reafoning ; becaufe one de-
monltration, clearly comprehended, gives ail
the evidence we are capable of receiving.

The ftrength of probable reafoning, tor the
moiL part, depends not upon any one argu-
ment, but upon many, which unite their
force, and lead to the fame conclufion. Any
one of them by itfelf would be infufficient to
convince ; but the whole taken together may
have a force that is irrefiftible, fo that to de-
fire more evidence would be abfurd. Would
any man feek new arguments to prove that
there were fuch perfons as King Charles the
Firft, or Oliver Cromwell ?

Such evidence may be compared to a rope-
made up of many flender filaments tv/ifled to-
gether. The rope has flrcngth more than fuf-
ficient to bear the ftrefs laid upon it, though
no one of the filaments of which it is compofed
would be fufficient for that purpofe.

It is a common obfervation, that it is un-
reafonable to require demonllration for things
which do not admit of it. It is no lefs unrea-
fonable to require reafoning of any kind for
things which are known without reafoning.
All reafoning mud be grounded upon truths
which are known v/ithout reafoninij. In every
branch of real knowledge there mud be firlt
principles whofe truth is known i-ntuitively,
without reafoning, either probable or demon-
ftrative. They are not grounded on reafon-
ing, but all reafoning is grounded on them.

It

396

ESSAY VII.

CHAP, It has been lliown, that there are firft; princi-

^"- pies of neceffary truths, and firft principles of

contingent truths. Demonftrative reafoning

is grounded upon the former, and probable

reafoning upon the latter.

That we may not be embarrafled by the am-
biguity of words, it is proper to obferve, that
there is a popular meaning of probable evidence,
which ought not to be confounded with the
philofophical meaning, above explained.

In common language, probable evidence is
confidered as an inferior degree of evidence,
and is oppofed to certainty : So that what is
certain is more than probable, and what is on-
ly probable is not certain. Philofophers confi-
der probable evidence, not as a degree, but
as afpecies of evidence which is oppofed, not to
certainty, but to another fpecies of evidence
called demonftration.

Demonftrative evidence has no degrees ;
but probable evidence, taken in the philofo-
phical fenfe, has all degrees, from the very
leaft, to the greateft which we call certainty.

That there is fuch a city as Rome, I am as
certain as of any propofition in Euclid ; but
the evidence is not demonftrative, but of that
kind which Philofophers call probable. Yet,
in common language, it would found oddly
to fay, it is probable there is fuch a city as
Rome, becaufe it would imply fome degree
of doubt or uncertainty.

Taking probable evidence, therefore, in
the philofophical fenfe, as it is oppofed to de-
monftrative, it may have any degrees of evi-
dence, from the leaft to the greateft.

I think, in moft cafes, we meafure the de-
grees of evidence by the effett they have upon

a found

1

OF PROBABLE REASONING. 397

a found underflanding, when comprehended^ ^^ ^•
clearly and without prejudice. Every degree ^
of evidence perceived by the mind, produces
a proportioned degree of alTent or belief.
The judgment may be in perfect fufpenfe be-
tween two contradictory opinions, when there
is no evidence for either, or equal evidence for
both. The lead preponderancy on one fide
inclines the judgment in proportion. Belief
is mixed with doubt, more or lefs, until we
come to the higheft degree of evidence, when
all doubt vanifhes, and the belief is firm and
immoveable. This degree of evidence, the
highefl the human faculties can attain, we call
certainty.

Probable evidence not only differs in kind
from demonflrative, but is itfelf of different
kinds. The chief of thefe I fhall mention,
without pretending to make a complete enume-
ration.

The firfl kind is that of human teflimony,
upon which the greatefl part of human know-
ledge is built.

The faith of hiflory depends upon it, as
well as the judgment of folema tribunals, with
regard to mens acquired rights, and with re-
gard to their guilt or innocence when they are
charged with crimes. A great part of the bu-
fmefs of the Judge, of Counfel at the bar, of
the Hiftorian, the Critic, and the Antiquari-
an, is to canvafs and weigh this kind of evi-
dence ; and no man can a6t with common
prudence in the ordinary occurrences of life,
who has not fome competent judgment of it.

The belief we give to teflimony in many ca-
fes is not folely grounded upon the veracity of
the teflifier. In a fmgle teftimony, we confi-

der

c;98 ESSAY VII.

f^

CHAP, der the motives a man might have to falfify.
'^- If there be no appearance of any fuch motive,
' ^^ much more if there be motives on^ the other
fide, his'teflin^ony has uieight independent of
his moral charader. If the teilimony be cir-
cumftantial, we confider how far the circum-
ftanccs agree together, and with things that
are known. It is fo very difficult to fabricate
a flory, which cannot be detefted by a judici-
ous examination of the circumftances, that it
acquires evidence, by being able to bear fuch
a triah There is an art in detetfing falfe evi-
dence in judicial proceedings, well known to
able judges and barriiters ; fo that I believe
fev.' falfe witneifes leave the bar without fufpi-
cion of their guilt.

When there is an agreement of many wit-
neifes, in a great variety of circumftances,
without the pofTibility of a previous concert,
the evidence may be equal to that of demon-
ftration.

A fecond kind of probable evidence, is the
authority of thofe who are good judges of the
point iri queflion.' 1 he fupreme court of ju-
dicature of the Britifii nation,, is often deter-
mined by the opinion of lawyers iri a point of
law, of phyficians in a point of medicine, and
of otiier ariifts, in what relates to their feveral
profeffions. And, in the common affairs of
life, we frequently rely upon the judgment of
others, in points of which we are not proper
judges ourielves.

A third kind of probable evidence, is that
by which we recognife the identity of things,
and perfons of our acquaintance : That two
fwords, two horfes, or two perfons, may be
fo perfectly alike, as not to be diltinguifhable

by

OF PROBABLE REASONING. 399

by thofe to whom they are befl: known, cannot C HAP.
be fhown to be impoffible. But we learn either ^"•
from nature, or from experience, that it never ^"^
happens ; or fo very rarely, that a perfon or
thing, well known to us, is immediately re-
cognifed without any doubt, when we per-
ceive the marks or figns by which we were in
ufe to diftinguifh it from all other individuals
of the kind.

This evidence we rely upon in the mofl im-
portant affairs of Hfe ; and, by this evidence,
the identity, both of things and of perfons, is
determined in courts of judicature.

A fourth kind of probable evidence, is that
which we have of mens future actions and
condudl, from the general principles of aclion
in man, or from our knowledge of the indi-
viduals.

Notwithftanding the folly and vice that is to
be found among men, there is a certain de-
gree of prudence and probity which we rely
upon in every man that is not infane. If it
were not fo, no man would be fafe in the com-
pany of another, and there could be no fociety
among mankind. If men were as much dif-
pofed to hurt as to do good, to lie as to fpeak
truth, they could not live together j they would
keep at as great diflance from one another as
poffible, and the race would foon perifh.

We expect that men will take fome care of
themfelves, of their family, friends, and re-
putation: That they will not injure others
without fome temptation: That they will have .
fome gratitude for good offices, and fome re-
fentment of injuries.

Such maxims v/ith regard to human con-
duel are the foundation of all political reafon-

ing.

4C0 ESSAY VIL

C H A P. Jng, and of common prudence in the conduct
of life. Rardly can a man form any projeft
in public or in private life, which does not de-
pend upon the conduct of other men, as well
as his own, and which does not go upon the
fuppofition that men will a£r fuch a part in fuch
circumftances. This evidence may be pro-
bable in a verv hio^h degree, but can never be
demonftrative. The beft concerted project
may fail, and wife counfels may be fruilrated,
becaufe fome individual atted a part which it
would have been againil all reafon to expect.

Another kind of probable evidence, the
counterpart of the laft, is that by which we
collect mens characters and deligns from their
actions, fpeech, and other external figns.

We fee not mens hearts, nor the principles
by which they are actuated ; but there are ex-
ternal figns of their principles and difpofitions,
which, though not certain, may fometimesbe
more trufted than their profeffions ; and it is
from external figns that v.-e muft draw all the
knowledge we can attain of mens characters.

The next kind of probable evidence I men-
tion, is that which Mathematicians call the
probability of chances.

We attribute fome events to chance, becaufe
we know only the remote caufe which mud
produce fom.e one event of a number ; but
know not the more immediate caufe which
determines a particular event of that number
in preference to the others.

I think all the chances about which we rea-
fon in mathematics are of this kind. Thus,
in tiirowinc^ a juit die upon a table, we fay it
is an equal chance which of the fix fides (liall
be turned up : becaufe neither the perfon who

throws.

OF PROBABLE REASONING. 401

throws, nor the byftanders know the preclfe C H A P.
meafure of force and direciion neceflary to ,^1!^
turn up any one fide rather than another.
There are here therefore fix events, one of
which muft happen ; and as all are fuppofed to
have equal probability, the probability of any
one fide being turned up, the ace, for in-
ftance, is as one to the remaining number
five.

The probability of turning up two aces
with two dice is as one to thirty-five ; becaufe
here there are thirty-fix events, each of which
has equal probability.

Upon fuch principles as thefe, the do6lrine
of chances has furnifhed a field of demonflra-
tive reafoning of great extent, although the
events about which this reafoning is employed
be not neceffary, but contingent, and be not
certain, but probable.

This may feem to contradict a principle be-
fore advanced, that contingent truths are not
capable of demonflration ; but it does not :
For, in the mathematical reafonings about
chance, the conclufion demonflirated, is not,
that fuch an event fhall happen, but that the
probability of its happening bears fuch a ratio
to the probability of its failing ; and this con-
clufion is neceffary upon the fuppofitions on
which it is grounded.

The lafl: kind of probable evidence i fhall
mention, is that by which the known laws of
Nature have been difcovered, and the effefts
which have been produced by them in former
ages, or which may be expeded in time to
come.

The laws of Nature are the rules by which
the Supreme Being governs the world. We

Vol. II. D d deduce

402

ESSAY

VII.

CHAP, deduce them only from fafts that fall within
• ^ our own obfervation, or are properly attefted
by thofe who have obferved them.

The knowledge of fome of the laws of Na-
ture is neceifary to all men in the condudt of
life. Thefe are foon difcovered even by fa-
vages. They know that fire burns, that water
drowns, that bodies gravitate towards the
earth. They know that day and night, fum-
mer and winter, regularly fucceed each other.
As far back as their experience and informa-
tion reach, they know that thefe have hap-
pened regularly ; and, upon this ground, they
are led, by the conftitution of human nature,
to expeft that they will happen in time to come,
in like circumftances.

The knowledge which the Philofopher at-
tains of the laws of Nature differs from that
of the vulgar, not in the firfl principles on
which it is grounded, but in its extent and ac-
curacy. He collefts with care the phaenomena
that lead to the fame conclufion, and compares
them with thofe that feem to contradidl or to
limit it. He obferves the circumftances on
which every phtenomenon depends, and diftin-
guifhes them carefully from thofe that are ac-
cidentally conjoined with it. He puts natural
bodies in various fituations, and applies them
to one another in various ways, on purpofe to
obferve the effed: ; and thus acquires from his
fenfes a more extenfive knowledge of the
courfe of Nature in a fliort time, than could
be colle£led by cafual obfervation in many ages.
But what is the refult of his laborious re-
fearches? It is, that, as far as he has been able
to obferve, fuch things have always happened
in fuch circumftances, and fuch bodies have

always

OF PROBABLE REASONING. 403

always been found to have fuch properties. ^ ^^ ^•
Thefe are matters of fad, attefled by fenfe, ,
memory and teftimony, juft as the few fads
which the vulgar know are attefled to them.

And what conclufions does the Philofopher
draw from the fads he has colledted? They
are, that like events have happened in former
times in Hke circumflances, and will happen
in time to come ; and thefe conclufions are built
on the very fame ground on which the fimple
ruftic concludes that the fun will rife to-mor-
row.

Fads reduced to general rules, and the con-
fequences of thofe general rules, are all that
we really know of the material world. And
the evidence that fuch general rules have no
exceptions, as well as the evidence that they
will be the fame in time to come as they have
been in time paft, can never be demonftrative.
It is only that fpecies of evidence which Philo-
fophers call probable. General rules may have
"exceptions or limitations which no man ever
had occafion to obferve. The laws of Nature
may be changed by him who eflabliflied them.
But we are led by our conflitution to rely upon
their continuance with as little doubt as if ij:
was demonftrable.

I pretend not to have made a complete enu-
meration of all the kinds of probable evidence 5
but thofe I have mentioned are fufficient to
ihow, that jhe far greatefl: part, and the mod
interefting part of our knowledge, mud reft
upon evidence of this kind; and that many
things are certain for which we have only that
kind of evidence which Philofophers call pro-
bable.

D d 2 CHAR

404 ESSAY VIL

CHAP.
IV.

'-^"^^^ CHAP. IV.

Of Mr. Hume's Scepticifm with regard to
Reafon.

IN the Treatife of Human Nature, book. i.
part 4. fed:, i. the author undertakes to
prove two points : Firji, That all that is called
human knowledge (meaning demonftrative
knowledge) is only probability; and, fecondly.
That this probability, when duly examined,
evanifhes by degrees, and leaves at laft no evi-
dence at all : So that, in the iflue, there is no
ground to believe any one proportion rather
than its contrary, and " all thofe are certainly
*' fools who reafon or believe any thing/*

According to this account, reafon, that
boafted prerogative of man, and the light of
his mind, is an ignis fatuus^ which mifleads
the wandering traveller, and leaves him at
laft in abfolute darknefs.

How unhappy is the condition of man, born
under a neceflity of believing contradidlions,
and of trufting to a guide who confelfes herfelf
to be a falfe one !

It is feme comfort, that this dodrine can ne-
ver be ferioufly adopted by any man in his
fenfes. And after this author had fliown that
" all the rules of logic require a total extindion
" of all belief and evidence," he himfelf, and
all men that are not infane, muft have believed
many things, and yielded allentto the evidence
which he had cxtinguifhed.

This indeed he is fo candid as to acknow-
ledge. " He finds himfelf abfolutely and nc-

" celfarily

Of Mr. Hume'j Scepticifm about Reafon, 405

** ceflarily determined, to live and talk and CHAP.
" a£t like other people in the common affairs ^^•
*' of life. And fmce reafon is incapable of*" ^'"^^
" difpelling thefe clouds, mod fortunately it
*' happens, that Nature herfelf fuffices to that
*' purpofe, and cures him of this philofophical
" melancholy and delirium." See feet. 7.

This was furely a very kind and friendly
interpofition of Nature ; for the effeds of this
philofophical delirium, if carried into life, muft
have been very melancholy.

But what pity is it, that Nature (whatever
is meant by that perfonage), fo kind in curing
this delirium, fhould be fo cruel as to caufe it.
Doth the fame fountain fend forth fweet waters
and bitter? Is it not raore probable, that if
the cure was the work of Nature, the difeafe
came from another hand, and was the work of
the Philofopher?

To pretend to prove by reafoning that there
is no force in reafon, does indeed look like a
philofophical delirium. It is like a man's pre-
tending to fee clearly, that he himfelf and all
other men are blind.

A common fympton of delirium is, to thiijk
that all other men are fools or mad. This ap^
pears to have been the cafe of our author, who
concluded, " That all thofe are certainly fools
" who reafon or believe any thing.'*

Whatever was the caufc of this delirium,
it muft be granted, that if it was real and not
feigned, it was not to be cured by reafoning :
For what can be more abfurd than to at-
tempt to convince a man by reafoning who
difowns the authority of reafon. It was there-
fore v&ry fortunate that Nature found other
means of curing it.

It

4o6

ESSAY

VII.

It may, however, not be improper to en-
quire, whether, as the author thinks, it was
produced by a juft application of the rules of
logic, or, as others may be apt to think, by
the mifapplication and abufe of them.

Firji^ Becaufe we are fallible, the author in-
fers that all knowledge degenerates into pro-
babihty.

That man, and probably every created be-
ing, is fallible; and that a fallible being can-
not have that perfect comprehenfion and aflu-
rance of truth which an infallible being has,
I think ought to be granted. It becomes a
fallible being to be modeft, open to new light,
and fenfible, that by fome falfe bias, or by
rafh judging, he may be mifled. If this be
called a degree of fcepticifm, I cannot help
approving of it, being perfuaded, that the man
who makes the bed ufe he can of the faculties
which God has given him, without thinking
them more perfect than they really are, may
have all the belief that is neceflary in the con-
duct of life, and all that is neceflary to his ac-
ceptance with his Maker.

It is granted then, that human judgments
ought always to be formed with an humble
fenfe of our fallibility in judging.

This is all that can be inferred by the rules
of logic from our being fallible. And if this
be all that is meant by our knowledge degene-
rating into probabiHty, I know no perfon of a
different opinion.

But it may be obferved, that the author
here ufes the word probability in a fenfe for
which I know no authority but his own. Philo-
fophers underftand probability as oppofed to
demonifration ; the vulgar as oppofed to cer-
tainty;

Of Mr. Hume's Scepticifju about Reafon. 407

tainty; but this author underflands itasop-CHAP.
pofed to infallibility, which no man claims.

One who believes himfelf to be fallible
may ftill hold it to be certain that two and two
mrke four, and that two contradiftory pro-
pofitions cannot both be true. He may be-
lieve fome things to be probable only, and
other things to be demonftrable, without mak-
ing any pretence to infallibility.

If we ufe words in their proper meaning,
it is impoflible that demonftration fhould de-
generate into probability from the imperfedli-
on of our faculties. Our judgment cannot
change the nature of the things about which
we judge. What is really demonftration, will
ftill be fo, whatever judgment we form con-
cerning it. It may likewife be obferved, that
when we miftake that for demonftration,
which really is not, the confequence of this
miftake is, not that demonftration degenerates
into probability, but that what we took to be
demonftration is no proof at all ; for one falfe
ftep in a demonftration deftroys the whole,
but cannot turn it into another kind of proof.'

Upon the whole, then, this firft conclufion
of our author. That the fallibility of human
judgment turns all knowledge into probability,
if underftood literally, is abfurd; but if it be
only a figure of fpeech, and means no more,
but that, in all our judgments, we ought to
be fenfible of our faUibility, and ought to
hold our opinions with that modefty that be-
comes fallible creatures, which I take to be
what the author meant, this, I think, nobody
denies, nor was it neceffary to enter into a la-
borious proof of it.

One

4o8 ESSAY VII.

One is never in greater danger of tranfgref-
fing agaiaft the rules of logic, than in attempt-
ing to prove what needs no proof. Of this
we have an inflance in this very cafe : For the
author begins his proof, that all human judg-
ments are fallible, with affirming that fome
are infallible.

" In all demonftrative fciences, fays he,
" the rules are certain and infallible ; but
" when we apply them, our fallible and un-
" certain faculties are very apt to depart from
" them, and fall into error."

He had forgot, furely, that the rules of de-
monftrative fciences are dilcovered by our fal-
lible and uncertain faculties, and have no au-
thority but that of human judgment. If they
be infallible, fome human judgments are infal-
lible ; and there are many in various branches
of human knowledge which have as good a
claim to infallibility as the rules of the demon-
ftrative fciences.

We have reafon here to find fault with our
author for not being fceptical enough, as well
as for a miftake in reafoning, when he claims
infallibility to certain decifions of the human
faculties, in order to prove that all their deci-
fions are fallible.

The fecond "^o'mt which he attempts to prove,
is, That this probability, when duly examin-
ed, fuffers a continual diminution, and at laft
a total extinction.

The obvious confequence of this is, that no
fallible being can have good reafon to believe
any thing at all ; but let us hear the proof.
" In every judgment, we ought to correct the
'* firft judgment derived from the nature of
" the obje£t, by another judgment derived

" from

Of Mr. Hume'j Scepticifm about Reafon. 409

from the nature of the underftanding. Be-C HAP.
fuie the original uncertainty inherent in the *
fubjett, there arifes another, derived from
the weaknefs of the faculty which judges.
Having adjufted thefe two uncertainties to-

' gether, we are obliged, by our reafon, to
add a new uncertainty, derived from the
pollibility of error in the efhimation we make

' of the truth and fidelity of our faculties.

• This is a doubt, of which, if we would
' clofely purfue our realoning, we cannot

• avoid giving a decifion. But this decifion,
' though it fliould be favourable to our pre-
' ceding judgment, being founded only on
' probability, mufl weaken flill farther our
' firfl evidence. The third uncertainty muft
' in like manner be criticifed by a fourth,
' and fo on without end.

" Now, as every one of thefe uncertainties
' takes away a part of the original evidence,
' it muft at laft be reduced to nothing. Let
' our firft belief be ever fo ftrong, it muft in-
' fallibly perifti, by pafting through fo many
' examinations, each of which carries off
' fomewhat of its force and vigour. No fi-
' nite objed can fubfift under a decreafe re-
•' peated in infinitum.

" When I refleO: on the natural fallibility
■' of my judgment, I have lefs confidence in
" my opinions, than when I only confider the
" objefts concerning which I reafon. And
" when I proceed ftill farther, to turn the
" fcrutiny againft every fucceflive eftimation
" I make of my faculties, all the rules of logic
" require a continual diminution, and at laft
" a total extinction of belief and evidence."

This

41 o ESSAY VII.

This is the author's Achillean argument
againll the evidence of reafon, from which he
concludes, that a man who would govern his
belief by reafon, mufl believe nothing at all,
and that belief is an acl, not of the cogitative,
but of the fenfitive part of our nature.

If there be any fuch thing as motion, (faid
an antient Sceptic) the fwift-footed Achilles
could never overtake an old man in a journey.
For, fuppofe the old man to fet out a thoufand
paces before AcHir>LES, and that while
Achilles has travelled the thoufand paces,
the old man has gone five hundred ; when
Achilles has gone the five hundred, the old
man has gone two hundred and fifty ; and
"when Achilles has gone the two hundred
and fifty, the old man is ftill one hundred and
twenty-five before him. Repeat thefe eftima-
tions in bifinitiwi, and you will ftill find the
old man foremoft ; therefore Achilles can
never overtake him ; therefore there can be no
fuch thing as motion.

The reafoning of the modern Sceptic againfl
reafon is equally ingenious, and equally con-
vincing. Indeed, they have a great fimilari-

If we trace the journey of Achilles two
thoufand paces, we Ihall find the very point
where the old man is overtaken : But this
(hort journey, by dividing it into an infinite
number of ft ages, with correfponding eftima-
tions, is made to appear infinite. In like
manner, our author, fubjefting every judg-
ment to an infinite number of fucceffive proba-
ble eftimations, reduces the evidence to no-
thing.

To

Of Mr. Hume's Scepticif?n about P^eafon. 4^ ^

To return then to the argument of the mo-^ ^ J^ '
dern Sceptic. I examine the proof of a thco- __ ^'_^^_^
rem of Euclid. It appears to me to be flri£l
Jemonftration. But I may have overlooked
fome fallacy ; therefore I examine it again and
again, but can fmd no flaw in it. I find all
that have examined it agree with me. I have
now that evidence of the truth of the propofi-
tion, which I and all men call demonftration,
and that belief of it, which we call certainty.

Here my fceptical friend interpofes, and af-
fures me, that the rules of logic reduce this de-
monftration to no evidence at all. I am wil-
ling to hear what flep in it bethinks fallacious,
and why. He makes no objection to any part
of the demonftration, but pleads my fallibility
in judging. 1 have made the proper allowance
for this already, by being open to convidlion.
But, fays he, there are two uncertainties, the
firft: inherent in the fubjecl, which I have al-
ready fhown to have only probable evidence ;
the fecond ariftng from the weaknefs of the fa-
culty that judges. I anfwer, It is the weak-
nefs of the facjilty only that reduces this de-
monftration to what you call probability. You
muft not therefore make it a fecond uncer-
tainty ; for it is the fame with the firft. To
take credit twice in an account for the fame
article is not agreeable to the rules of logic.
Hitherto therefore there is but one uncertain-
ty, to wit, my fallibility in judging.

But, fays my friend, you are obliged by
reafon to add a new uncertainty, derived from
the poftibility of error in the eftimation you
make of the truth and fidelity of your facul-
ties. I anfwer,

This

412 ESSAY Vn.

CHAP. This eflimation Is ambiguoully exprefled ;
^^' it may either mean an eitimation of my liable-
nefs to err by the mlfapplication and abufe of
my faculties ; or it may mean an eftimation of
my liablenefs to err, by conceiving my facul-
ties to be true and faithful, while they may be
falfe and fallacious in themfelves, even when
applied in the beft manner. I (hall confider
this eftimation in each of thefe fenfes.

If the firft be the eftimation meant, it is true
that reafon direds us, as fallible creatures, to
carry along with us, in all our judgments, a
fenfe of our fallibility. It is true alfo, that we
are in greater danger of erring in fome cafes,
and lefs in others ; and that this danger of er-
ring may, according to the circumftances of
the cafe, admit of an eftimation, which we
ought likewife to carry along with us in every
judgment we form.

When a demonftration is lliort and plain ;
when the point to be proved does not touch
our intereft or our paifions ; when the faculty
of judging, in fuch cafes, has acquired ftrength
by much exercife, there is lefs danger of er-
ring ; when the contrary circumftances takg
place, there is more.

In the prefent cafe, every circumftance is
favourable to the judgment I have formed.
There cannot be lefs danger of erring in any
cafe, excepting perhaps when I judge of a felf-
evident axiom.

The Sceptic farther urges, that this decifi-
on, though favourable to my firft judgment,
being founded only on probability, muft ftill
weaken the evidence of that judgment.

Here 1 cannot help being of a quite contrary
opinion, nor can I imagine how an ingenious

author

Of Mr. HuME*j Scepildfm about Reafon. 413

author could impofe upon himfelf fo grofsly,C H A P,
for furely he did not intend to impofe upon his ^^•
reader. ^' '

After repeated examination of a propofition
of Euclid, I judge it to be flri6lly demonftra-
ted ; this is my firfl judgment. But as I am
liable to err from various caufes, I confider how
far I may have been mifled by any of thcfe
caufes in this judgment. My decifion upon
this fecond point is favourable to my firfl judg-
ment, and therefore as I apprehend, mufl
flrengthen it. To fay, that this decifion, be-
caufe it is only probable, mufl weaken the firfl
evidence, feems to me contrary to all rules
of logic, and to common fenfe.

The firfl judgment may be compared to the
teflimony of a credible witnefs ; the fecond,
after a fcrutiny into the character of the wit-
nefs, wipes off every objedlion that can be
made to it, and therefore furely mufl confirm
and not weaken his teflimony.

But let us fuppofe, that, in another cafe, I
examine my firfl judgment upon fome point,
and find, that it was attended with unfavoura-
ble circumflances, what, in reafon, and ac-
cording to the rules of logic, ought to be the
efFe£l of this difcovery ?

The efFed furely will be, and ought to be,
to make me lefs confident in my firfl judgment,
until I examine the point anew in more fa-
vourable circumflances. If it be a matter of im-
portance I return to weigh the evidence of my
firfl judgment. If it was precipitate before, it
mufl now be deliberate in every point. If at
firfl I was in pafTion, I mufl now be cool. If
I had an interefl in the decifion, I mufl place
the interefl on the other fide.

It

414 ESSAY Vll.

P- It is evident, that this review of the fubjeft
may confirm my firfh judgment, notv^^ithftand-
ing the fufpicious circumllances that attended
it. Though the judge was biafled or corrupted,
it does not follow, that the fentence was un-
juft. The rectitude of the decifion does not
depend upon the character of the judge, but
upon the nature of the cafe. From that only,
it mud be determined whether the decifion be
jult. The circumftances that rendered it fuf-
picious are mere prefumptions, which have no
force againfl direct evidence.

Thus, I have confidered the effect of this
eflimation of our liablenefs to err in our firfl
judgment, and have allowed to it all the effedt
that reafon and the rules of logic permit. In
the cafe I firft fupppofed, and in every cafe
where we can difcover no caufe of error, it
affords a prefumption in favour of the firft
judgment. In other cafes, it may afford a pre-
fumption againfl it. But the rules of logic re-
quire, that we fhould not judge by prefump-
tions, where we have diredt evidence. The
effect of an unfavourable prefumption fhould
only be, to make us examine the evidence
with the greater care.

The Sceptic urges, in the lafl place, that
this eftimation muft t>e fubjected to another
effimation, that to another, and fo on /;z infi-
nitum ; and as every new eflimation takes away
from the evidence of the firft judgment, it muft
at laft be totally annihilated.

I anfwer, firjl^ it. has been fhown above,
that the firft eftimation, fuppofmg it unfa-
vourable, can only afford a prefumption againft
the firft judgment ; the fecond, upon the fame
fuppofition, will be only the prefumption of a

prefump-

Of Mr. Hume's Scepticifm about Reafon» 415

prefumptlon ; and the third, the prefumption C H A P.
that there is a prefumption of a prefumption. ^^•'^•
This infinite feries of prefumptions refembles
an infinite feries of quantities decreafing in
geometrical proportion, which amounts only
to a finite fum. The infinite feries of ftages
of AcHiLLEs's journey after the old man,
amounts only to two thoufand paces ; nor can
this infinite feries of prefumptions, outweigh
one folid argument in favour of the firft judg-
ment, fuppofing them all to be unfavourable
to it.

Secondly^ I have (hown, that the eftimation
of our firft judgment may ftrengthen it ; and
the fame thing may be faid of all the fubfequent
eftimations. It v/ould, therefore, be as rea-
fonable to conclude, that the firft judgment
will be brought to infallible certainty v/hen this
feries of eftimations is wholly in its favour, as
that its evidence will be brought to nothing by
fuch a feries fuppofed to be wholly unfavoura-
ble to it. But, in reality, one ferious and
cool re-examination of the evidence by which
our firft judgment is fupported, has, and, in
reafon, ought to have more force to ftrengthen
or weaken it, than an infinite feries of fuch
eftimations as our author requires.

Thirdly^ I know no reafon nor rule in logic,
that requires that fuch a feries of eftimations
fhould follow every particular judgment.

A wife man who has praclifed reafoning
knows that he is fallible, and carries this con-
vidion along with him in every judgment he
forms. He knows likewife that he is more
liable to err in fome cafes than in others. He
has a fcalc in his mind, by which he eftimates
his liablenefs to err, and by this he regulates

the

4\b ESSAY VII.

C H A P. the degree of his aflent in his firft judgment
upon any point.
^"''"^''"^^ The author's rcafoning fuppofcs that a man,
when he forms his hrft judgment, conceives
himfelf to be infaHible ; that by a fecond and
fubfequent judgment, he difcovers that he is
not infallible ; and that by a third judgment,
fubfequent to the fecond, he eflimates his lia-
blenefs to err in fuch a cafe as the prefent. .

If the man proceed in this order, I grant,
that his fecond judgment will, with good rea-
fon, bring down the firft from fuppofed infalli-
bility to fallibility ; and that his third judgment
will, in fome degree, either ftrengthen or
weaken the firif, as it is correded by the
fecond.

But every man of underftanding proceeds in
a contrary order. When about to judge in any
particular point, he knows already that he is
not infallible. He knows what are the cafes in
which he is mod or lead liable to err. The
conviction of thefe things is always prefent to
his mind, and influences the degree of his affent
in his firft judgment, as far as to him appears
reafonable.

If he fliould afterwards find reafon to fufpe£t
his firft judgment, and defires to have all the
fatisfaction his faculties can give, reafon will
dire£t him not to form fuch a feries of eftima-
tions upon eftimations, as this author requires,
but to examine the evidence of his firft judg-
ment carefully and coolly ; and this review
may very reafonably, according to its refult,
either ftrengthen or weaken, or totally over-
turn his firft judgment.

This infinite feries of eftimations, therefore,
is not the method that reafon directs in order

to

Of Mr. Hume's Scepticiftn about Reafori. 41 y

to form our judgment in any cafe. It is intro- CHAP,
duced without neceility, without any ufe but ^^^"
to puzzle the underftanding, and to make us
think, that to judge, even in the fimplefl and
plained cafes, is a matter of infurmcuntable
difficulty and endlefs labour; juft as the anci-
ent Sceptic, to make a journey of two thoafand
paces appear endlefs, divided it into an infinite
number of ftages.

But we obferved, that the eftimation which
our author requires may admit of another
meaning, which indeed is more agreeable to
the expreffion, but inconfiftent with what he
advanced before.

By the poilibility of error in the eflimation
of the truth and fidelity of our faculties, may
be meant, that we may err by efteeming our
faculties true and faithful, while they niay be
falfe and fallacious, even when ufed according
to the rules of reafon and logic.

If this be meant, I anfwer, j^r/?. That the
truth and fidelity of our faculty of judging is,
and rnuft be taken for granted in every judg-
ment and in everv eftimation.

If the Sceptic can ferioufly doubt of the
truth and fidelity of his faculty of judging
when properly ufed, and fufpend his judgment
upon that point till he finds proof, his fcepti-
cilm admits of no cure by reafoning, and he
muft even continue in it until he have new
faculties given him, which fliall have authority
to fit in judgment upon the old. Nor is there
any need of an endlefs fucceffion of doubts
upon this fubjeft, for the firft puts an end to
all judgment and reafoning, and to the poilibi-
lity of convidion by that means. The Sceptic
has here got pofleilion of a ftrong hold which

Vol. II. E e is

41 8 ESSAY VII.

C H A P. is impregnable to reafoning, and we mufl leave
^^' him in poflefiion of it, till Nature, by other
means, makes him give it up.

Secondly, I obferve, that this ground of
fcepticifm, from the fuppofed infidelity of our
faculties, contradicls what the author before
advanced in this very argument, to wit, that
*' the rules of the demonftrative fciences are
" certain and infallible, and that truth is the
" natural efled of reafon, and that error arifes
" from the irruption of other caufes."

But perhaps he made thefe conceffions un-
warily. He is therefore at liberty to retrad:
them, and to reft his fcepticifm upon this fole
foundation. That no reafoning can prove the
truth and fidelity of our faculties. Here he
ftands upon firm ground: For it is evident,
that every argument offered to prove the truth
and fidelity of our faculties, takes for granted
the thing in queftion, and is therefore that
kind of jophifm, which Logicians call petitio
principii.

All we would afk of this kind of Sceptic is,
that he would be uniform and confiftent, and
that his pradice in life do not belie his pro-
feffion of Scepticifm with regard to the fidelity
of his faculties: For the want of faith, as well
as faith itfelf, is beft fliown by works. If a
Sceptic avoid the fire as much as thofe who
believe it dangerous to go into it, we can
hardly avoid thinking his fcepticifm to be
feigned ,2nd not real.

Our author indeed was aware, that neither
his fcepticifm, nor that 6f any other perfon,
was able to endure this trial, and therefore
enters a caveat againft it. " Neither I, fays
*' he, nor any other perfon, was ever fincerely

" and

Of Mr. Hume's Scepticifri about Reafon. 419

" and conftantly of that opinion. Nature, CHAP.

" by an abfolute and uncontrollable neceffity, jXr-^

" has determined us to judge, as well as to

" bi;eathe and feel. My intention, therefore,

** fays he, in difplaying fo carefully the argu-

*' ments of that fantaftic fed, is only to make

" the reader fenfible of the truth of my hypo-

*' thefis, that all our reafonings concerning

*' caufes and cffedls, are derived frgm nothing

" butcuflom, and that belief is more properly

*' an aft of the fenfitive than of the cogita-

" tive part of our nature."

We have before confidered the firft part of
this hypothefis. Whether our reafoning about
caufes be derived only from cuflom?

The other part of the author's hypothefis
here mentioned is darkly exprefled, though
the expreffion feems to be fludied, as it is put
in Italics. It cannot furely mean that belief is
not an aft of thinking. It is not, therefore,
the power of thinking that he calls the cogita-^ '
tive part of our nature. Neither can it be the
power of judging, for all belief implies judg-
ment ; and to believe a proportion means the
fame thing as to judge it to be true. It feems,
therefore, to be the power of reafoning that
he calls the cogitative part of our nature.

If this be the meaning, I agree to it in part.
The belief of firft principles is not an aft of
the reafoning power : For all reafoning mufl
be grounded upon them. We judge them to
be true, and believe them without reafoning.
But why this power of judging of firft princi-
ples fhould be called the fenfitive part of our
nature, I do not underftand.

As our belief of firft principles is an aft of

pure judgment without reafoning j fo our be-

E e 2 lief

420

ESSAY VII.

CHAP, lief of the conclufions drawn by reafonlng
^^- from firfl: principles, may, 1 think, be called

^^"""^"^ an a6l of the-reafoning faculty.

Upon the whole, I fee only two conclufions
that can be fairly drawn from this profound
and intricate reafoning againfl reafon. The
firft is. That we are fallible in all our judg-
ments and in all our reafonings. The fecond.
That the truth and fidelity of our faculties can
never be proved by reafoning ; and therefore
our belief of it cannot be founded on reafoning.
If thelaft be what the author calls his hypothe-
fis, I fubfcribe to it, and think it not an hy-
pothefis, but a manifeft truth ; though I con-
ceive it to be very improperly exprefled, by
faying that belief is more properly an ad of
the fenfitive than of the cogitative part of our
nature.

ESSAY

421

mUHuaanMEM

ESSAY VIIL

OF TASTE.
CHAP. I.

Of Tqfte in generaL

THAT power of the mind by which we
are capable of difcerning and reliftiing
the beauties of Nature, and whatever is excel-
lent in the fine arts, is called tq/i^e.

The external fenfeof tafte, by which we dif-
tinguifh and relifh the various kinds of food,
has given occaiion to a metaphorical application
of its name to this internal power of the mind,
by which we perceive what is beautiful, and
what is deformed or defedive in the various
objefts that we contemplate.

Like the tafte of the palate, it relifhes fome
things, is difgufted with others ; with regard
to many, is indifferent or dubious, and is con-
fiderably influenced by habit, by alfociations,
and by opinion. Thefe obvious analogies be-
tween external and internal tafte, have led
men, in all ages, and in all or moft pohfhed
languages, to give the name of the external
fenfe to this power of difcerning what is beau-
tiful with pleafure, and what is ugly and faulty
in its kind with difguft.

In

422 ESSAY VIII.

CHAP. In treating of this as an intelle£tual power of
,^^^V_^ the mind, I intend only to make fome obfer-
vations, firfl on its nature, and then on its
objeds.

I. In the external fenfe of tafte, we are led
by reafon and refleftion to diflinguilh between
the agreeable fenfation we feel, and the quality
in the objed which occafions it. Both have
the fame name, and on that account are apt to
be confounded by the vulgar, and even by
Philofophers. The fenfation I feel when I tafte
any fapid body is in my mind ; but there is a
real quality in the body which is the caufe of
this fenfation. Thefe two things have the fame
name in language, not from any fimilitude in
their nature, but becaufe the one is the fign of
the other, and becaufe there is little occafion
in common life to diftinguiih them.

This was fully explained in treating of the
fecondary qualities of bodies. The reafon of
taking notice of it now is, that the internal
power of tafte bears a great analogy in this
refpect to the external.

When a beautiful objed is before us, we
may diftinguifh the agreeable emotion it pro-
duces in us, from the quality of the objed
which caufes that emotion. When I hear an
air in mufic that pleafes me, I fay, it is fine, it
is excellent. This excellence is not in me ; it
is in the mufic. But the pleafure it gives is not in
the mufic ; it is in me. Perhaps I cannot fay
what it is in the tune that pleafes my ear, as I
cannot fay what it is in a fapid body that pleafes
my palate ; but there is a quahty in the fapid
body which pleafes my palate, and I call it a
delicious tafte ; and there is a quahty in the
tune that pleafes my tafte, and I call it a fine or
an excellent air.

This

OF TASTE IN GENERAL. 423

This ought the rather to be obferved, be-C HAP.
caufe it is become a fafliion among modern ^*
Philofophcrs, to refolvc all our perceptions into '
mere feelings or fenfations in the perfon that
perceives, without any thing correfponding to
thofe feelings in the external objeft. Accord-
ing to thofe Philofophers, there is no heat in
the fire, no tafte in a fapid body ; the tafte
and the heat being only in the perfon that feels
them. In like manner, there is no beauty in
any object whatfoever ; it is only a fenfation or
feeling in the perfon that perceives it.

The language and the common fenfe of
mankind contradict this theory. Even thofe
who hold it, find themfelves obliged to ufe a
language that contradicts it. I had occafion
to fhow, that there is no folid foundation for
it when applied to the fecondary qualities of
body ; and the fame arguments fhow equally,
that it has no folid foundation when applied to
the beauty of objects, or to any of thofe qua-
lities that are perceived by a good tafte.

But though fome of the qualities that pleafe
a good talte rcfemble the fecondary qualities
of body, and therefore may be called occult
qualities, as we only feel their effect, and have
no more knowledge of the caufc, but that it is
fomething which is adapted by Nature to pro-
duce that effect ; this is not always the cafe.

Our judgment of beauty is in many cafes
more enlightened. A work of art may appear
beautiful to the mofl ignorant, even to a child.
It pleafes, but he knows not why. To one
who underftands it perfectly, and perceives
how every part is fitted with exact judgment to
its end, the beauty is not myfterious ; it is per-
fectly comprehended ; and he knows wherein
it confifts, as well as how it affeds him.

2. Wc

424 ESSAY VIII.

2. Wc may obferve, that, though all the
tafles we perceive by the palate are either agree-
able or difagreeable, or indifferent ; yet,
among thofe that are agreeable, there is great
diverlity, not in degree only, but in kind.
And as we have not generical names for all
the different kinds of tafle, we diftinguifh them
by the bodies in which they are found.

In like manner, all the objeds of our inter-
nal tafle are either beautiful, or difagreeable,
or indiuerent ; yet of beauty there is a great
diverfity, not only of degree, but of kind :
The beauty of a demonfl ration, the beauty of
a poem, the beauty of a palace, the beauty of
apiece of mufic, the beauty of a fine woman,
and many more that might be named, are
different kinds of beauty ; ana we have no
names to diftinguifh them but the names of
the different objefts to which they belong.

As there is fuch diverfity in the kinds of
beauty as well as in the degrees, we need not
think it ftrange that Philofophers have gone in-
to difl'erent fyflems in analyfing it, and enu-
merating its fimple ingredients. They have
made many jufl obfervations on the fubjeft ;
but, from the love of fimplicity, have reduced
it to fewer principles than the nature of the
thing v- ill permit, having had in their eye forne
particular kinds of beauty, Awhile they over-
looked others.

There are moral beauties as well as natural ;
beauties in the objeds of fenfe, and in intel-
lectual objedls ; in the works of men, and in
the works of God ; in things inanimate, in
brute animals, and in rational beings ; in the
conflitution of the body of man, and in the
conftitution of his mind. There is no real

excellence

I

OF TASTE IN GENERAL. 425

excellence which has not its beauty to a difcern- CHAP,
ing eye, when placed in a proper point of ^ ^•
view ; and it is as difficult to enumerate the
ingredients of beauty as the ingredients of
real excellence.

3. The tafte of the palate may be accounted
moft jufl and perfeti, when we relifh the
things that are fit for the nourifhment of the
body, and are difgufted with things of a con-
trary nature. The manifeft intention of Na-
ture in giving us this fenfe, is, that we may
difcern what it is fit for us to eat and to drink,
and what it is not. Brute animals are direded
in the choice of their food merely by their
tafte. Led by this guide, they chufe the food
that Nature intended for them, and feldom
make miftakes, unlefs they be pinched by
hunger, or deceived by artificial compofi-
tions. In infants likewife the tafte is com-
monly found and uncorrupted, and of the
fimple productions of Nature they relifli the
things that are moft wholefome.

In like manner, our internal tafte ought to
be accounted moft juft and perfect, when we
are pleafed with things that are moft excellent
in their kind, and difpleafed with the contrary.
The intention of Nature is no lefs evident in
this internal tafte than in the external. Every
excellence has a real beauty and charm that
makes it an agreeable object to thofe who have
the faculty of difcerning its beauty ; and this
faculty is what we call a good tafte.

A man, who, by any diforder in his mental
powers, or by bad habits, has contraQed a
relifti for what has no real excellence, or
what is deformed and defedlive, has a depra-
ved tafte, like one who finds a more agreeable

reUfh

426 ESSAY VIII.

CHAP, relidi In afhes or cinders than in the moft
■wholefome food. As we muft acknowledge
the tafte of the palate to be depraved in this
cafe, there is the fame reafonto think the tafte
of the mind depraved in the other.

There is therefore a juft and rational tafl:e,
and there is a depraved and corrupted tafte.
For it is too evident, that, by bad education,
bad habits, and wrong aflbclations, men may
acquire a relifh for naftinefs, for rudenefs,
and ill breeding, and for many other deformi-
ties. To fay that fuch a tafte is not vitiated,
is no lefs abfurd than to fay, that the fickly
girl who delights in eating charcoal and tobac-
co-pipes, has as juft and natural a tafte as when
ftie is in perfed: health.

4. The force of cuftom, of fancy, and of
cafual afTociations, is very great both upon the
external and internal tafte. An Eikimauxcan
regale himfelf with a draught of whale-oil, and
a Canadian can feaft upon a dog. A Kamf-
chatkadale lives upon putrid fift», and is fome-
times reduced to eat the bark of trees. The
tafte of rum, or of green tea, is at firft as nau-
fcous as that of ipecacuan, to fome perfons,
who may be brought by ufe to relifn what they
once found fo difagreeable.

When we fee fuch varieties In the tafte of
the palate produced by cuftom and afTociations,
and fome peihaps by conftitution, we may be
the lefs furprifed that the fame caufes faould
produce like varieties in the tafte of beauty ;
that the African fhould efteem thick lips and a
flat nofe ; that other nations fhould draw out
theiV ears, till they hang over their fhoulders ;
that in one nation ladies fhould paint their

faces.

OF TASTE IN GENERAL. 427

faces, and in another fhould make them fiiineC H A P.
with greafe.

•5. Thofe who conceive that there is no
ftandard in nature by which taite may be re-
gulated, and that the common proverb. That
there ought to be no difpute about tafle, is to
be taken in the utmofl latitude, go upon flen-
der and infufficient ground. The fame argu-
ments might be ufed with equal force againfl:
any ftandard of truth.

Whole nations by the force of prejudice are
brought to believe the grofleft abfurdities ; and
why fhould it be thought that the tafte is lefs
capable of being perverted than the judgment?
It muft indeed be acknowledged, that men
differ more in the faculty of tafte than in what
we commonly call judgment ; and therefore it
may be expected that they fhould be more lia-
ble to have their tafte corrupted in matters of
beauty and deformity, than their judgment in
matters of truth and error.

If we make due allowance for this, wc (hall
fee that it is as eafy to account for the variety
of taftes, though there be in nature a ftandard
of true beauty, and confequently of good tafte ;
as it is to account for the variety and contrari-
ety of opinions, though there be in nature a
ftandard of truth, and confequently of right
judgment.

6. Nay, if we fpeak accurately and ftriclly,
we fhall find, that, in every operation of tafte,
there is judgment implied.

When a man pronounces a poem or a palace
to be beautiful, he affirms fomething of that
poem or that palace ; and every affirmation or
denial expreffes judgment. For we cannot
better define judgment, than by faying that it

is

428 ESSAY VIIL

C H A P. is an affirmation or denial of one thing con-
cerning another. I had occafion to fhow,
^'^'^^ when treating of judgment, that it is implied
in every perception of our external fenfes.
There is an immediate convidion and belief of
theexiilence of the quality perceived, whether
it be colour, or found, or figure ; and the
fame thing holds in the perception of beauty
or deformity.

If it be faid that the perception of beauty is
merely a feeling in the mind that perceives,
without any belief of excellence in the objed,
the neceflary confequence of this opinion is,
that vi?hen 1 fay Virgii/s Georgics is a beau-
tiful poem, I mean not to fay any thing of the
poem, but only fomething concerning myfelf
and my feelings. Why fhould I ufe a language
that expreffes the contrary of what 1 mean ?

My language, according to the neceflary
rules of conftrudion, can bear no other mean-
ing but this, that there is fomething in the
poem, and not in me', which I call beauty.
Even thefe who hold beauty to be merely a
feeling in the perfon that perceives it, find
themfelves under a neceflity of exprefling them-
felves, as if beauty were folely a quality of the
objed, and not of the percipient.

No reafon can be given why all mankind
{hould exprefs themfelves thus, but that they
believe what they fay. It is therefore contra-
ry to the univerfal fenfe of mankind, exprelT-
cd by their language, that beauty is not really
in the objed, but is merely a feeling in the
perfon who is faid to perceive it. Philofo-
phers fhould be very cautious in oppofing the
common fenfe of mankind ; for, when they do,
they rarely mifs going wrong.

Our

OF TASTE IN GENERAL. 4-9

Our judgment of beauty is not indeed a dryC II A P.
and unafteding judgment, like that of a ma-
thematical or metaphyfical truth. By the con-
ftitution of our nature, it is accompanied with
an agreeable feeling or emotion, for which we
have no other name but the fenfe of beauty.
This fenfe of beauty, like the perceptions of
our other fenfes, implies not only a feeling,
but an opinion of fome quahty in the object
which occafions that feeling.

In objeds that pleafe the tafte, we always
judge that there is fome real excellence, fome
fuperiority to thofe that do not pleafe. In fome
cafes, that fuperior excellence is diftinftly
perceived, and can be pointed out ; in other
cafes, we have only a general notion of fome
excellence which we cannot defcribe. Beau-^
ties of the former kind may be compared to
the primary qualities perceived by the external
fenfes ; thofe of the latter kind, to the fecon-
dary.

7. Beauty or deformity in an object, refults
from its nature or flrudture. To perceive the
beauty therefore, we muft perceive the nature
or ftrudlure from which it refults. In this the
internal fenfe differs from the external. Our
external fenfes may difcover qualities which do
not depend upon any antecedent perception.
Thus I can hear the found of a bell, thoufrh I
never perceived any thing elfe belonging to it.
But it is impofTible to perceive the beauty of
an obje£t without perceiving the objeft, or at
leaft conceiving it. On this account. Dr.
HuTCHESoN called the fenfes of beauty and
harmony reflex or fecondary fenfes ; becaufe
the beauty cannot be perceived unlefs the
objed be perceived by fome other power
of the mind. Thus the fcnfc of harmo-
ny

4:o ESSAY VIII.

C H A P. ny and melody in founds fuppofes the external
"^ ^enfe of hearing, and is a kind of feccndary
to it. A man born deaf may be a good judge
of beauties of another kind, but can have no
notion of melody or hanmony. The like may
be faid of beauties in colouring and in figure,
which can never be perceived without the fen-
fcs, by which colour and figure are perceived.

G H A P. IT.

Of the Gbjeaf of Tq/h, and frjl of Novelty,

l\ Philosophical analyfis of the objefts of
±X tafte is like applying the anatomical
knife to a fine face. I'he defign of the Philo-
fophcr, as well as of the Anatomifi:, is not to
gratify tafle, but to improve knowledge. The
reader ought to bd aware of this, that he may
not entertain an expedation in which he will
be difappointed.

By the objefls of tafle, I mean thofe quali-
ties or attributes of things, which are by Na-
ture adapted to pleafe a good tafle. Mr. Ad-
dison, and Dr. Akenside after him, have re-
duced them to three, to wit, novelty, gran-
deur, and beauty. This divifion is fufficient
for all I intend to fay upon the fubjedl, and
therefore 1 fnall adopt it ; cbferving only, that
beauty is often taken in fo extenfive a fenfe as
to comprehend all the objects of tafle ; yet all
the authors I have met with, who have given
a divifion of the objedls of tafle, make beauty
one fpecies.

I take the reafon of this to be, that we have
lpe<iific names for fome of the qualities that

pleafe

O F N O V E L T Y. 431

pleafe the tafte, but not for all; and therefore CHAP,
all thofe fall under the general name of beau- '
ty, for which there is no fpecihc name in the ^"^
divifion.

There are, indeed, fo many fpecies of beau-
ty, that it would be as difficult to enumerate
them perfectly, as to enumerate all the tafles
we perceive by the palate. Nor does there
appear to me fufficient reafon for making, as
fome very ingenious authors have done, as
many different internal fenfes as there are dif-
ferent fpecies of beauty or deformity.

The divifion of our external fenfes is taken
from the organs of perception, and not from
the qualities perceived. We have not the
fame means of dividing the internal ; becaufe,
though fome kinds of beauty belong only to
objeds of the eye, and others to objects of the
ear, there are many which we cannot refer to
any bodily organ ; and therefore I conceive
every divifion that has been made of our in-
ternal fenfes to be in fome degree arbitrary.
They may be made more or fewer, according
as we have diftind names for the various kinds
of beauty and deformity; and I fufpecl the
molt copious languages have not names for
them alL

Novelty is not properly a quality of the
thing to which we attribute it, far lefs is it a
fenfation in the mind to which it is new ; it is
a relation which the thing has to the know-
ledge of the perfon. What is new to one
man, may not be fo to another; what is new
this moment, may be familiar to the fame per-
fon fome time hence. When an objed is firfl
brought to our knowledge, it is new, whether
it be agreeable or not.

It

432 ESSAY VIII.

It is evident, therefore, with regard to no-
velty, (whatever may be faid of other objeds
of tafte) that it is not merely a fenfation in
the mind of him to whom the thing is new ;
it is a real relation which the thing has to his
knowledge at that time.

But we are fo conftituted, that what is new
to us, commonly gives pleafure upon that ac-
count, if it be not in itfelf difagrceable. It
roufes our attention, and occafions an agreea-
ble exertion of our faculties.

The pleafure we receive from novelty in ob-
jefts has fo great influence in human life, that
it well deferves the attention of Philofophers ;
and feveral ingenious authors, f)articularly.
Dr. GiRARD in his Eflay on Tafte, have, I
think, fuccefsfully accounted for it, from the
principles of the human conflitution.

We can perhaps conceive a being fo made,
that his happinefs confifts in a continuance of
the fame unvaried fenfations or feelings, with-
out any adive exertion on his part. Whether
this be pofTible or not, it is evident that man is
not fuch a being ; his good confifts in the vi-
gorous exertion of his active and intelledive
powers upon their proper objeds ; he is made
for adion and progrefs, and cannot be happy
without it ; his enjoyments feem to be given
bv Nature, not fo much for their own fake, as
to encourage the exercife of his various povvers.
That tranquillity of foul in which fome place
human happinefs, is not a dead reft, but a re-
gular progrefTive motion.

Such is the conftitution of man by the ap-
pointment of Nature. This conftitution is
perhaps a part of the imperfedion of our na-
ture;

OF NOVELTY.

433

ture ; but it is v/ifely adapted to our ftate, CHAP,
which is not intended to be ftationary, bat pro- ^'•
greffive. The eye is not fatiated with feeing,
nor the ear with hearing ; fomething is always
wanted* Defire and hope never ceafe, but re-
main to fpur us on to fomething yet to be ac-
quired ; and, if they could ceafe, human hap-
pinefs mud end with them. That our defire
and hope be properly directed, is our part ;
that they can never be extinguiflied, is the
work of Nature.

It is this that makes human life fo bufy a
fcene. Man muft be doing fomething, good
or bad, trifling or important ; and he muft
vary the employment of his faculties, or their
exercife will become languid, and the pleafure
that attends it ficken of courfe.

The notions of enjoyment, and of activity,
confidered abftraclly, are no doubt very diffe-
rent, and we cannot perceive a necefl'ary con-
nexion between them. But, in our confti-
tution, they are fo connected by the wifdoin
of Nature, that they muft go hand in hand ;
and the firft muft be led and fupported by the
laft.

An object at firft, perhaps, gave much plea-
fure, while attention was diredled to it with
vigour. But attention cannot be long confin-
ed to one unvaried objeft, nor can it be car-
ried round in the fame narrow circle. Curio-
lity is a capital principle in the human confti-
tution, and its food muft be what is in fome
refpeft new. What is faid of the Athenians
may in fome degree be applied to all mankind.
That their time is fpent in hearing, or telling,
or doing fome new thing.

Vol. 11. F f Into

434 ESSAY YiIL

C H A Fv Jiito this part of the human conftitution, I
^ ^ • ^ think, we may refolve the pleafure we have
from novelty in objects.

Curiofity is commonly ftrongeft in children
and in young perfons, and accordingly novel-
ty pleafes them mod. In all ages, in propor-
tion as novelty gratifies curiofity, and occafi-
ons a vigorous exertion of any of our mental
]-;ov/ers in attending to the new object, in the
fame proportion it gives pleafure. In advan-
ced life, the indolent and inactive have the
ftrongell paffion for news, as a relief from a
painful vacuity of thought.

But the pleafure derived from new objects^
in many cafes, is not owing folely or chiefly
to their being new, but to fome other circum-
ftance that gives them value. The new fa-
fhion in drefs, furniture, equipage, and other
accommodations of life, gives pleafure, not fo-
much, as I apprehend, becaufe it is new,
as becaufe it is a fign of rank, and diitinguifli-
es a man from the vulgar.

In fome things novelty is due, and the want
of it a real imperfection. Thus, if an author
adds to the number of books, with which the
public is already overloaded, we expert from
Iiim fomething new ; and if he fays nothing
but what has been faid before in as agreeable
a manner, we are juftly difgufted.

When novelty is altogether feparated from
the conception of worth and utility, it makes
but a flight impreflion upon a truly correct
tafte. Every difcovery in nature, in the arts,
aiul in the fciences, has a real value, and gives
a rational pleafure to a good taiie. But things
that have nothinsj to recommend them but no-
Yclty, are fit only to entertain children, or

thofe

OF GRANDEUR.

435

thofe who are diflreffed from a vacuity of C HAP.
thought. This quahty of objeds may there- ^^•
fore be compared to the cypher in arithmetic,
which adds greatly to the value of fignificant
figures ; but, when put by itfelf, fignifies noth-
ing at all.

CHAP. Ill;

Of Grandeur,

THE qualities which pleafe the tafte are
not more various in themfelves than are
the emotions and feelings with which they affedt
our minds.

Things new and uncommon affect us with
a pleafmg furprife, which roufes and invigo-
rates our attention to the object. But this
emotion foon flags, if there is nothing but
novelty to give it continuance, and leaves no
effeft upon the mind.

The emotion raifed by grand objeds is aw-
ful, folemn, and ferious.

Of all objects of contemplation, the Su-
preme Being is the mod grand. His eternity,
his irrimenfity, his irrefiflible power, his in-
finite knowledge and unerring wifdom, his
inflexible jufl:ice and reftitude, his fupreme
government, conducting all the movements
of this vaft univerfe to the noblefl: ends, and
in the wifeft manner, are objects which fill the
utmofl: capacity of the foul, and reach far be-
yond its comprehenfion.

The emotion which this grandeft of all

objects raifes in the human mind, is what we

call devotion J a ferious recollected temper

F f 2 which

436 ESSAY VIIL

CHAP, which infpires magnanimity, and difpofes to

^ the moft heroic a£ls of virtue.
^'^^^^ The emotion produced by other objeds
which may be called grand, thoo8;h in an in-
ferior degree, is, in its nature and in its ef-
feds, fimilar to that of devotion. It difpofes to
ferioufnefs, elevates the mind above its ufual
ftate, to a kind of enthufiafm, and infpires
magnanimity, and a contempt of what is
mean.

Such, I conceive, is the emotion which the
contemplation of grand objedts raifes in us.
"We are next to confider what this grandeur in
objeds is.

To me it feems to be nothing elfe but fuch
a degree of excellence, in one kind or another,
as merits our admiration.

There are fome attributes of mind which
have a real and intrinfic excellence, compared
'. with their contraries, and which, in every de-

gree, are the natural objeds of efteem, but,
in an uncommon degree are objects of admi-
ration. We put a value upon them becaufe
they are intrinfically valuable and excellent.

The fpirit of modern philofophy would in-
deed lead us to think, that the worth and va-
lue we put upon things is only a fenfation in
our minds, and not any thing inherent in the
object ; and that we might have been fo con-
flituted as to put the higheft value upon the
things which we now defpife,,and to defpife
the qualities which we now highly efteem.

It gives me pleafure to obferve, that Dr.
Price, in his Review of the Queftions con-
cerning morals, ftrenuoufly oppofes this opi-
nion, as well as that which refolves moral
right and wrong into a fenfation in the mind

of

O F G R A N D E U R. 437

of the fpe£^tor. That judicious author faw CHAP,
the confequences which thefe opinions draw ^^I-
after them, and has traced them to their *— ■>^"~-'
fource, to wit, the account given by Mr.
Locke, and adopted by the generality of mo-
dern Philofophers, of the origin of all our
ideas, which account he fhows to be very de-
fective.

This pronenefs to refolve every thing into
feelings and fenfations, is an extreme into
which we have been led by the defire of avoid-
ing an oppofite extreme, as common in the
ancient philofophy.

At firft, men are prone by nature and by
habit to give all their attention to things exter-
nal. Their notions of the mind, and its ope-
rations, are formed from fome analogy they
bear to objeds of fenfe; and an external ex-
iftence is afcribed to things which are only
conceptions or feelings of the mind.

This fpirit prevailed much in the philofophy
both of Plato and of Aristotle, and pro^
duced the myfterious notions of eternal and
felf-exiftcnt ideas, of materia prima, of fub-
ftantial forms, and others of the like nature.

From the time of Des Cartes, philofophy
took a contrary turn. That great man difco-
vered, that many things fuppofed to have an
external exiftence, were only conceptions or
feelings of the mind. This track has been
purfued by his fucceflbrs to fuch an extreme,
as to refolve every thing into fenfations, feel-
ings, and ideas in the mind, and to leave
nothing external at all.

The Peripatetics thought, that heat and cold
which we feel to be qualities of externa] ob-
jects.

438 ESSAY VIII.

C H A P. je£l:s. The moderns make heat and cold to be

^^^' fenfations only, and allow no real quality of

r"'"''^^^'^ body to be called by that name : And the fame

judgment they have formed with regard to all

fecondary qualitities.

So far Des Cartes and Mr. Locke wentt
Their fucceffors being put into this track of
converting into feelings things that were be-
lieved to have an external exiftence, found
that extenfion, folidity, figure, and all the
primary qualities of body, are fenfations or
tfeelings of the mind; and that the material
•world is a phcsnomenon only, and has no ex-
iftence but in our mind.

. It was then a very natural progrefs to con-
ceive, that beauty, harmony, and grandeur,
the objects of tafte, as well as right and wrong,
the objeds of the moral faculty, are nothing
but feelings of the mind.

Thofe who are acquainted with the writings
of modern Philofophers, can eafily trace this
doftrine of feelings, from Des Cartes down
to Mr. Hume, who put the finifliing ftroke to
it, by making truth and error to be feelings
of the mind, and belief to be an operation of
the fenfitive part of our nature.

To return to our fubjeft, if we hearken to
the dilates of common fenfe, we muft be
convinced that there is real excellence in forae
things, whatever our feelings or our conftitu-
tion be.

It depends no doubt upon our conftitution,
whether we do, or do not perceive excellence
where it really is : But the objed: has its excel-
lence from its own conftitution, and not from
ours,

The

O F G R A N D E U R. 439

The common judgment of mankind in thIsC H A P.
matter fufficiently appears in the language of ^^^'
all nations, which uniformly afcribes excel-
lence, grandeur, and beauty to the objeft, and
not to the mind that perceives it. And I be-
lieve in this, as in mod other things, we fhall
find the common judgment of mankind and
true philofophy not to be at variance.

Is not power in its nature more excellent
than weaknefs ; knowledge than ignorance ;
wifdom than folly 5 fortitude than pufiUani-
mity ?

Is there no intrinfic excellence in felf-com-
mand, in generofity, in pubHc fpirit ? Is not
friendfhip a better affedion of mind than ha-
tred, a noble emulation, than envy?

Let us fuppofe, if poiTible, a being fo con-
ilituted, as to have a high refpe£t for ignorance,
weaknefs, and folly ; to venerate cowardice,
malice, and envy, and to hold the contrary
qualities in contempt ; to have an efleem for
lying and falfehood, and to love moft thofe
who impofed upon him, and ufed him word.
Could we believe fuch a conftltution to be any
thing elfe than madnefs and delirium ? It is im-
poffible. We can as eafily conceive a conftitu-
tion, by which one Ihould perceive two and
three to make fifteen, or a part to be greater
than the whole.

Every one who attends to the operations of
his own mind will find it to be certainly true,
as it is the common belief of mankind, that
efleem is led by opinion, and that every per-
fon draws our efteem, as far only as he appears
either to reafon or fancy to be amiable and
\vorthy.

There

440

ESSAY VIIL

CHAP. There is therefore a real intrinfic excellence
^^^- In fome qualities of mind, as in power, know-
''^"^ledge, wifdom, virtue, magnanimity. Thefe
in every degree merit efteem ; but in an un-
common degree they merit admiration ; and
that which merits admiration we call grand.

In the contemplation of uncommon excel-
lence, the mind feels a noble enthufiaim,
■which difpofes it to the imitation of what it
admires.

When we contemplate the charader of
Cato, his greatnefs of foul, his fuperiority to
pleafure, to toil, and to danger, his ardent
zeal for the liberty of his country ; when we
fee him (landing unmoved in misfortunes, the
lad pillar of the liberty of Rome, and falling
nobly in his country's ruin, who would not wilh
to be Cato rather than CjESar in all his
triumph ?

Such a fpedacle of a great foul flruggling
with misfortune, Seneca thought not unwor-
thy of the attention of Jupiter himfelf, " Ecce
" fpeclaculum Deo dignum, ad quod refpiciat
*' Jupiter fuo operi intentus, vir fortis cum
" mala fortuna compofitus.'*

As the Deity is of all objects of thought the
moll grand, the defcriptions given in holy
writ of his attributes and works, even when
cloihed in fmiple expreffion, are acknowledged
to be fubhme. The expreffion of Ivlofes,
" And God laid, Let there be light, and there
" v.'as iighr," has not efcaped the notice of
LoNGiNUSj a Heathen Critic, as an example of
the fublime.

What we call fublime in defcription, or in
fpeech of any kind, is a proper expreffion of
the admiration and enthufiafm which the fub-

OF GRANDEUR. 441

jed produces in the mind of the fpeaker. If C HAP.
this admiration and enthufiafm appears to be _
juft, it carries the hearer along with it involun-
tarily, and by a kind of violence rather than
by cool convidion : For no paffions are fo in-
fectious as thofe which hold of enthufiafm.

But, on the other hand, if the paffion of the
fpeaker appears to be in no degree juftified by
the fubject or the occafion, it produces in the
judicious hearer no other emotion but ridicule
and contempt.

The true fublime cannot be produced folely
by art in the compofition ; it mud take its rife
from grandeur in the fubjed, and a correfpond-
ing emotion raifed in the mind of the fpeaker. ,
A proper exhibition of thefe, though it Ihould
be artlefs, is irrefiftible, like fire thrown into
the midfl of combuftible matter,

When we contemplate the earth, the fea,
the planetary fyftem, the univerfe, thefe are
vaftpbjeds ; it requires a ftretch of imagination
to grafp them in our minds. But they appear
truly grand, and merit the highefl admiration,
when we confider them as the work of God,
who, in the fimple flyle of fcripture, flretched
out the heavens, and laid down the foundation
of the earth ; or, in the poetical language of
Milton,

In his hand
He took the golden compaflTes, prepared.
In God's eternal flore, to circumfcribe
This univerfe, and all created things.
One foot he centered, and the other turn'd
Round thro' the vafi profundity obfcure ;
And faid thus far extend, thus far thy bounds ;
This be thy juft circumference, O world.

442 ESSAY VIIL

CHAP, When we contemplate the world of Epicu-
rus, and conceive the univerfe to be a fortui-
tous jumble of atoms, there is nothing grand
in this idea. The clafhing of atoms by blind
chance has nothing in it fit to raife our concep-
tions, or to elevate the mind. But the regular
ftrufture of a vafl fyftem of beings, produced
by creating power, and governed by the beft
laws which perfe6t wifdom and goodnefs could
contrive, is a fpeftacle which elevates the un-
derltanding, and fills the foul with devout ad-
miration.

A great work is a work of great power,
great wifdom, and great goodnefs, well con-
trived for fome important end. But power,
wifdom, and goodnefs, are properly the attri-
butes of mind only : They are afcribed to the
work figuratively, but are really inherent in the
author : And, by the fame figure, the gran*
deur is afcribed to the work, but is properly
inherent in the mind that made it.

Some figures of fpeech are fo natural and fo
common in all languages, that we are led to
think them literal and proper expreffions.
Thus an adlion is called brave, virtuous, gene-
rous ; but it is evident, that valour, virtue,
generofity, are the attributes of perfons only,
and not of aftions. In the a£lion confidered
abftra6lly, there is neither valour, nor virtue,
nor generofity. The fame action done from a
different motive may deferve none of thofc
epithets. The change in this cafe is not in the
aftion, but in the agent ; yet, in all languages,
generofity and other moral qualities are afcri-
bed to adions. By a figure, we affign to the
cffed a quality which is inherent only in the
taufe.

By

O F G R A N D E U R. 443

By the fame figure, we afcribe to a work^ ^ "*

that grandeur which properly is inherent in the ^ J" ^

mind of the author.

When we confider the IHad as the work of
the poet, its fubhmity was really in the mind
of Homer. He conceived great characters,
great actions, and great events, in a manner
fuitable to their nature, and vi^ith thofe emoti-
ons which they are naturally fitted to produce ;
and he conveys his conceptions and his emoti-
ons by the mofl proper figns. The grandeur
of his thoughts is refleded to our eye by his
work, and therefore it is juitly called a grand
work.

When we confider the things prefented to
our mind in the Iliad, without regard to the
poet, the grandeur is properly in Hector and
Achilles, and the other great perfonages,
human and divine, brought upon the ftage.

Next to the Deity and his works, we admire
great talents and heroic virtue in men, whe-
ther reprefented in hiftory or in fiction. The
virtues of Cato, Aristides, Socrates,
Marcus Aurelius, are truly grand. Extra-
ordinary talents and genius,- whether in Poets,
Orators, Philofophers, or Lav/givers, are ob-
jects of admiration, and therefore grand. We
find writers of tafte feized with a kind of en-
thufiafm in the defcription of fuch perfonages.

What a grand idea does Virgil give of the
power of eloquence, when he compares the
teinpefl: of the fea, fuddenly calmed by thq
command of Neptune, to a furious fedition in
a great city, quelled at once by a man of au-
thority and eloquence.

Sic ait, ac dido citius tumlda gequora placat :
Ac veluti magno in populo, fi forte coorta eft

Seditio,

444 ESSAY VIII.

C H A P.Seditio, fisevitque animis ignobile vulgus ;

^^^- Jamque faces et faxa volant, furor arma
"^-^"^^ miniftrat ;

Turn pietate gravem, et meritis, fi forte vinim

quern
Confpexere, filent, arredifque auribus adftant.
Hie regit didis animos, et peclora mulcet.
Sic cundus pelagi cecidit fragor.

The wonderful genius of Sir Isaac Newton,
and his fagacity in difcovering the laws of Na-
ture, is admirably expreifed in that Ihort h\x%
fublime epitaph by Pope :

Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in night j
God faid. Let Newtoj^ be, and all was light.

Hitherto we have found grandeur only in
qualities of mind ; but it may be afked. Is
there no real grandeur in n^aterial objeds ?

It will perhaps appear extravagant to deny
that there is ; yet it deferves to be confidered,
whether all the grandeur we afcribe to objeds
of fenfe be not derived from fomething intel-
ledual, of which they are the effeds or figns,
or to which they bear fome relation or analogy.

Beftdes the relations of effed and caufe, of
fign and thing fignified, there are innumerable
iimilitudes and analogies between things of
very ditFerent nature, which leads us to conned
them in our imagination, and to afcribe to the
one what properly belongs to the other.

Every metaphor in language is an inftance
of this ; and it muft be remembered, that a
very great part of language, which we now
account proper, was originally metaphorical ;
for the metaphorical meaning becomes the pro-
per

O F G R A N D E U R. '44.5

per as foon as it becomes the moft ufual ; muchC II A P.
more, when that which was at firft the proper ^^^
meaning falls into difufe. '""

The poverty of language, no doubt, contri-
butes in part to the \ife of metaphor ; and there-
fore we find the mod barren and uncultivated
languages the mod metaphorical. But the
moll copious language may be called barren,
compared with the fertility of human concep-
tions, and can never, without the ufe of figures,
keep pace with the variety of their delicate
modifications.

But another caufe of the ufe of metaphor is,
that we find pleafure in difcovering relations,
fimilitudes, and analogies, and even contrafts
that are not obvious to every eye. All figura-
tive fpeech prefents fomething jpf this kind ;
and the beauty of poetical language feems to^
be derived in a great meafure from this fource.
Of all figurative language, that is the moft
common, the moft natural, and the moft agree-
able, which either gives a body, if we may fo
fpeak, to things intelledual. and clothes them
with vifible qualities; or which, on the other
hand, gives intelledual qualities to the objects
of fenfe.

To beings of more exalted faculties, intel-
lectual objeds may perhaps appear to moil ad-
vantage in their naked fimplicity. But we can
hardly conceive them but by means of fome
analogy they bear to the objects of fenfe. The
names we give them are almofl all metaphorical
or analogical.

Thus the names of grand and fublime, as
well as their oppofites, mean and low, are evi-
dently borrowed from the dimenfions of body ;
yet it mufl be acknowledged, that many things
are truly grand and fublime, to which we cannot
;ifcribe the dimenfions of height and extenfion.

Some

446 ESSAY VIII.

Some analogy there is, without doubt, be-
tween greatnefs of dimenfion, which is an ob-
jccl of external fenfe, and that grandeur, w^hich
is an object of tafle. On account of this ana-
logy, the laft borrows its name from the firft ;
and the name being common, leads us to con-
ceive that there is fomething common in the
nature of the things.

But we fliall fmd many qualities of mind,
denoted by names taken from fome quality of
body to which they have fome analogy, with-
out any thing common in their nature.

Sweetnefs and aufterity, fmiplicity and du-
plicity, rectitude and crookednefs, are names
common to certain qualities of mind, and to
qualities of body to which they have fome ana-
logy ; yet he, would err greatly who afcribed
to a body that fweetnefs or that fimplicity which
are the qualities of mind. In like manner,
greatnefs and meannefs are names common to
qualities perceived by the external fenfe, and
to qualities perceived by tafte ; vet he may be
in an error, who afcribes to the objects of fenfe
that greatnefs or that meannefs, which is only
an object of tafte.

As intellectual objects are made more level
to our apprehenfion by giving them a vifible
form ; fo the objects of fenfe are dignified and
made more auguft, by afcribing to them intel-
lectual qualities which have fome analogy to
thofe they really polTefs. The fca rages, the
fky lowrs, the meadows fmile, the rivulets
murmur, the breezes whifper, the foil is grate-
ful or ungrateful ; fuch expreffions are fo fa-
miliar in common language, that they are
fcarcely accounted poetical or figurative ; but
they give a kind of dignity to inanimate objects,

and

O F G R A N D E U R. 447

and make our conception of them more agree- CHAP,
able. ^^^•

When wc confider matter as an inert, ex-
tended, divifible and moveable fubftance, there
feems to be nothing in thefe qualities which we
can call grand ; and when we afcribe grandeur
to any portion of matter, however modified,
may it not borrow this quality from fomething
intelleftual, of which it is the eifeft, or fign,
or inflrument, or to which it bears fome ana-
logy ; or, perhaps, becaufe it produces in the
mind an emotion that has fome refemblance to
that admiration which truly grand objects raife ?

A very elegant writer on the fublime and
beautiful, makes every thing grand or fublime
that is terrible. Might he not be led to this
by the fimilarity between dread and admira-
tion ? Both are grave and folemn palTions ;
both make a ftrong impreflion upon the mind ;
and both are very infedious. But they differ
fpecifically, in this refpedt, that admiration
fuppofes fome uncommon excellence in its ob-
jeft, which dread does not. We may admire
what we fee no reafon to dread ; and we may
dread what we do not admire. In dread, there
is nothing of that enthufiafm which naturally
accompanies admiration, and is a chief ingre-
dient of the emotion raifed by what is truly
grand or fublime.

Upon the whole, I humbly apprehend, that
true grandeur is fuch a degree of excellence as
is fit to raife an enthufiailical admiration ; that
this grandeur is found originally and properly
in qualities of mind ; that it is difcerned in ob-
jeds of fenfe only by reflection, as the light we
perceive in the moon and planets is truly the
light of jhe fun. J and that thofe who look for

grandeur

448 ESSAY viii.

C H A p. grandeur in mere matter, feek the living among
^' the dc:id.

*"^'^^^-^ If this be a miflake, it ought at lead to be
granted, that the grandeur which we perceive
in qualities of mind, ought to have a different
name from that which belongs properly to the
objects of fenfe, as they are very different in
their nature, and produce very different emo-
tions in the mind of the fpeClator.

CHAP. IV.

Of Beauty.

EAUTY is found in things fo various,

and fo very different in nature, that it

IS diiucult to fay wherein it confifts, or what
there can be common to all the obje£ls in
which it is found.

Of the objecrs of fenfe, we find beauty in
colour, in found, in form, in motion. There
are beauties of fpeech, and beauties of
thought ; beauties in the arts, and in the fci^
ences ; beauties in actions, in affections, and
in characters.

In things fo different, and fo unlike, is there
any quality, the fame in all, which v/e may
call by the name of beauty r What can it be
that is common to the thought of a mind, and
the form of a piece of matter, to an abftract
theorem, and a ftroke of wit ?

I am indeed unable to conceive any quality
in all the different things that are called beau-
tiful, that is the fame in them all. There
feemxS to be no identity, nor even fimilarity,
between the beauty of a theorem and the beau-
ty

O F B E A U T Y. 449

ty of a piece of mufic, though both may be C H A P.
beautiful. The kinds of beauty feem to be as ^^•
various as the objeds to which it is afcribed.

But why fhould things fo different be callftd
by the fame name ? This cannot be without a
reafon. If there be nothing common in the
things themfelves, they mull have fome com-
mon relation to us, or to fomething elfe, which
leads us to give them the fame name.

All the objects we call beautiful agree in two
things, which feem to concur in our fenfe of
beauty. Firjl^ When they are perceived, or
even imagined, they produce a certain agree-
able emotion or feeling in the mind , and fe-
condly^ This agreeable emotion is accompanied
with an opinion or belief of their having fome
perfection or excellence belonging to them.

Whether the pleafure we feel in contem-
plating beautiful objeds may have any necelfa-
ry connection with the belief of their excel-
lence, or whether that pleafure be conjoined
with this belief, by the good pleafure only of
our Maker, 1 will not determine. The readi-
er may fee Dr. Price's fentiments upon this
fubje£t, which merit confideration, in the fe-
cond chapter of his Review of the Queflions
concerning Morals.

Though we may be able to conceive thefe
two ingredients of our fenfe of beauty disjoin-
ed, this affords no evidence that they have no
neceflary connection. It has indeed been
maintained, that whatever we can conceive,
is poflible : But I endeavoured, in treating of
conception, to ffiow, that this opinion, though
very common, is a miftake. There may be,
and probably are, many neceflary connedions

Vol. IL G s of

450

ESSAY VIII.

C H A P of things in nature, which we are too dim-
^^* fighted to difcover.

The emotion produced by beautiful objeds
is gay and pleafant. It fweetens and humani-
fes the temper, is friendly to every benevo-
lent aft'eclion, and tends to allay fuUen and
angry paffions. It enlivens the mind, and dif-
pofes it to other agreeable emotions, fuch as
thofe of love, hope, and joy. It gives a value
to the objeft, abftraded from its utility.

In things that may be poffefled as property,
beauty greatly enhances the price. A beauti-
ful dog or horfe, a beautiful coach or houfe,
a beautiful picture or profped, is valued by
its owner and by others, not only for its utili-
ty, but for its beauty.

If the beautiful objcdl be a perfon, his com-
pany and converfation are, on that account,
the more agreeable, and we are difpofed to
love and cileem him. Even in a perfect Itran-
ger, it is a powerful recommendation, and
difpofes us to favour and think well of him, if
of our own fex, and (till more if of the other.

" There is nothing, fays Mr. Addison,
" that makes its way more diredly to the
" foul than beauty, which immediately difFu-
'* fes a fecret fatisfaction and complacence
" through the imagination, and gives a finifh-
" ing to any thing that is great and uncom-
*' mon. The very fir ft difcovery of it ftrikes
" the mind with an inward joy, and fpreads a
" chcerfulnefs and delight through all its fa-
" culties."

As we afcrlbe beauty, not only to perfons,
but to inanimate things, we give the name of
love or liking to the emotion, which beauty,
in both thelc kinds of objeds, produces. It

is

OF BEAUTY. 45^

is evident, however, that liking to a perfon is^ H A P,
a very different affeftion of mind from liking ,11^
to an inanimate thing. The firft always im-
plies benevolence ; but what is inanimate can-
not be the object of benevolence. The two
affections, however different, have a refem-
blance in fome refpeds ; and, on account of
that refemblance, have the fame name : And
perhaps beauty, in thefe two different kinds
ofobjeCls, though it has one name, maybe
as different in its nature as the emotions which
it produces in us.

Befides the agreeable emotion which beau-
tiful objeds produce in the mind of the fpec-
tator, they produce alfo an opinion or judg-
ment of fome perfection or excellence in the
obje£t. This I take to be a fecond ingredient
in our fefne of beauty, though it feems not to
be admitted by modern Philofophers.

The ingenious Dr. Hutcheson, who per-
ceived fome of the defefts of Mr. Locke's
fyftem, and made very important improve-
ments upon it, feems to have been carried
away by it, in his notion of beauty. In his
Inquiry concerning Beauty, SeQ:. i. " Let
" it be obferved, fays he, that, in the foUow-
" ing papers, the word beauty is taken for
" the idea raifed in us, and the fenfe of beau-
" ty for our power of receiving that idea.'*
And again ; " Only let it be obferved, that,
*' by abfolute or original beauty, is not un-
" derftood any quality fuppofed to be in the
" objed which (hould, of itfelf, be beautiful,
" without relation to any mind which per-
" ceives it : For beauty, like other names of
" fenfible ideas, properly denotes the percep-
" tion of fome mind ; fo cold, hot, fweet,
G g 2 " bitter,

452

ESSAY Vllf.

CHAP. " bitter, denote the fenfations in our minds,-
'^- " to which perhaps there is no refemblance in
" the objects which excite thefe ideas in us ;
*' however, we generally imagine otherwife.
" Were there no mind, with a fenfe of beau-
" ty, to contemplate objects, I fee not how
" they could be called beautiful."

There is no doubt an analogy between the
external fenfes of touch and tafte, and the in-
ternal fenfe of beauty. This analogy led Dr.
HuTCHESoN, and other modern Philofophers, to
apply to beauty, what Des Cartes and Locke
had taught concerning the fecondary qualities,
perceived by the external fenfes.

Mr. LocKE*'s doctrine concerning the fecon-
dary qualities of body, is not fo much an er-
ror in judgment as an abufe of words. He
dillinguifhed very properly between the fenfa-
tions we have of heat and cold, and that qua-
lity or ftructure in the body which is adapted
by Nature to produce thofe fenfations in us.
He obferved very juftly, that there can be no
fimilitude between one of thefe and the other.
They have the relation of an effect to its caufe,
but no fimilitude. This was a very juft and
proper correftion of the dodrine of the Peri-
patetics, who taught, that all our fenfations
are the very form and image of the quality in
the object by which they are produced.

What remained to be determined was, whe-
ther the words, heat and cold, in common
language, fignify the fenfations we feel, or
the cualities of the objeft which are the caufe
of thefe fenfations. Mr. Locke made heat
and cold to fignify only the fenfations we feel,
and not the qualities which are the caufe of
them. And in this, I apprehend, lay his mif-

take.

OF BEAUT Y, 453

take. For it is evident, from the ufe of lan-C HAP.
guage, that hot and cold, fweet and bitter, ^^•
are attributes of external objects, and not of ^"^ — ^^ ''
the perfon who perceives them. Hence, it
appears a monitrous paradox to fay, there
is no heat in the tire, no fweetnefs in
fugar: But, when explained according to Mr.
Locke's meaning, it is on.ly, like moft other
paradoxes, an abufe of words.

The fenfe of beauty may be analyfed in a
manner very fimilar, to the fenfe of fweetnefs.
It is an agreeable feeling or emotion, accom-
panied with an opinion or judgment of fome
excellence in th^ objeft, which is fitted by
Nature to produce that feeling.

The feeling is, no doubt, in the mind, and
fo alfo is the judgment we form of the objed:
But this judgment, like all others, mull be
true or falfe. If it be a true judgment, there
is fome real excellence in the objed. And
the ufe of all languages fhows, that the name
of beauty belongs to this excellence of the
objed, and not to the feelings of the fpeda-
tor.

To fay that there is in reality no beauty in
thofe obje£ls in which all men perceive beauty,
is to attribute to man fallacious fenfes. But
w^e have no ground to think fo difrefpedfuUy
of the Author of our being; the faculties he
hath given us are not fallacious; nor is that
beauty, which he hath fo liberally diffufed
over all the works of his hands, a mere fancy
in us, but a real excellence in his works,
which exprefs the perfedion of their Divine
Author.

We have reafon to believe, not only that
the beauties we fee in nature are real, and not

fanciful.

452

ESSAY vin.

CHAP. " bitter, denote the fenfations in our minds,-
I^- " to which perhaps there is no refemblance in
" the objects which excite thefe ideas in us ;
" however, we generally imagine otherwife.
*' Were there no mind, with a fenfe of beau-
*' ty, to contemplate objeds, I fee not how
" they could be called beautiful."

There is no doubt an analogy between the
external fenfes of touch and taile, and the in-
ternal fenfe of beauty. This analogy led Dr.
HuTCHESON, and other modern Philofophers, to
apply to beauty, what Des Cartes and Locke
had taught concerning the fecondary qualities,
perceived by the external fenfes*

Mr. Locker's doftrine concerning the fecon-
dary qualities of body, is not fo much an er-
ror in judgment as an abufe of words. He
dillinguiflied very properly between the fenfa-
tions we have of heat and cold, and that qua-
lity or ftrufture in the body which is adapted
by Nature to produce thofe fenfations in us.
He obferved very juftly, that there can be no
fimilitude between one of thefe and the other.
They have the relation of an effed to its caufe,
but no fimilitude. This was a very juft and
proper correction of the dodrine of the Peri-
patetics, who taught, that all our fenfations
are the very form and image of the quality in-
the objeft by which they are produced.

What remained to be determined was, whe-
ther the words, heat and cold, in common
language, fignify the fenfations we feel, or
the cualities of the objed which are the caufe
of thefe fenfations. Mr. Locke made heat
and cold to fignify only the fenfations we feel,
and not the qualities which are the caufe of
them. And in this, I apprehend, lay his mif-

take.

OF BEAUTY, 453

take. For it is evident, from the ufe of lan-C HAP.
guage, that hot and cold, fweet and bitter, ^^•
are attributes of external objects, and not of ^"""""^ ''
the perfon who perceives them. Hence, it
appears a monftrous paradox to fay, there
is no heat in the tire, no fweetnefs in
fugar: But, when explained according to Mr.
Locke's meaning, it is on.ly, like moft other
paradoxes, an abufe of words.

The fenfe of beauty may be analyfed in a
manner very fimilar, to the fenfe of fweetnefs.
It is an agreeable feeling or emotion, accom-
panied with an opinion or judgment of fome
excellence in the objed, which is fitted by
Nature to produce that feeling.

The feeling is, no doubt, in the mind, and
fo alfo is the judgment we form of the object:
But this judgment, like all others, mult be
true or falfe. If it be a true judgment, there
is fome real excellence in the objed. And
the ufe of all languages fhows, that the name
of beauty belongs to this excellence of the
object, and not to the feelings of the fpeda-
tor.

To fay that there is in reality no beauty in
thofe objefts in which all men perceive beauty,
is to attribute to man fallacious fen.fes. But
we have no ground to think fo difrefpeftfully
of the Author of our being; the faculties he
hath given us are not fallacious; nor is that
beauty, which he hath fo liberally diffufed
over all the works of his hands, a mere fancy
in us, but a real excellence in his works,
which exprefs the perfedion of their Divine
Author.

We have reafon to believe, not only that
the beauties we fee in nature are real, and not

fanciful.

454

ESSAY VIII.

CHAP, fanciful, but that there are thoufands which
^^' our facuhies are too dull to perceive. We fee
many beauties, both of human and divine art,
which the brute animals are incapable of per-
ceiving ; and fuperior beings may excel us as
far in their difcernment of true beauty as we
excel the brutes.

The man who is fkilled in painting or fta-
tuary, fees more of the beauty of a fine pic-
ture or ftatue than a common fpecl:ator. The
fame thing holds in all the fine arts. The mod
perfed works of art have a beauty that ftrikes
even the rude and ignorant ; bu-t they fee only
a fmall part of that beauty which is feen in
fuch works by thofe who underftand them per-
fectly, and can produce them.

This may be applied with no lefs juftice to
the works of Nature. They have a beauty
that ftrikes even the ignorant and inattentive.
But the more we difcover of their ftrudure,
of their mutual relations, and of the laws by
which they are governed, the greater beauty,
and the more delightful marks of art, wifdom
and goodnefs, we difcern.

Thus the expert Anatomift fees numberlcfs
beautiful contrivances in the ftrudure of the
human body, which are unknown to the igno-
rant.

Although the vulgar eye fees much beauty
in the face of the heavens, and in the various
motions and changes of the heavenly bodies,
the expert Aftronomer, who knows their or-
der and diftances, their periods, the orbits
they defcribe in the vaft regions of fpace, and
the fimple and beautiful laws by which their
motions are governed, and all the appearances
of their ftations, progreflions, and retrogra-

dations,

i

O F B E A U T Y. 455

dations, their eclipfes, occultations, and tran-C HAP.
fits are produced, fees a beauty, order, and ^^'•
harmony reign through the whole planetary ""^ *""— "^
fyftem, which delights the mind. The eclipfes
of the fun and moon, and the blazing tails of
comets, which flrike terror into barbarous na-
tions, furnifh the moft pleafmg entertainment
to his eye, and a feafl: to his underftanding.

In every part of Nature's works, there are
numberlefs beauties, which, on account of
our ignorance, we are unable to perceive.
Superior beings may fee more than we; but
he only who made them, and, upon a review,
pronounced them all to be very good, can fee
all their beauty.

Our determinations with regard to the beau-
ty of objects, may, I think, be diftinguiihed
into two kinds ; the firfl we may call inftinctive,
the other rational.

Some objeds ftrike us at once, and appear
beautiful at firft fight, without any reflection,
without our being able to fay why we call them
beautiful, or being able to fpecify any perfec-
tion which juflifies our judgment. Something
of this kind there feems to be in brute ani-
mals, and in children before the ufe of reafon ;
nor does it end with infancy, but continues
through life.

In the plumage of birds, and of butterflies,
in the colours and form of flowers, of Ihells,
and of many other objedls, we perceive a
beauty that delights ; but cannot fay what it is
in the object that fnould produce that emotion.

The beauty of the object may in fuch cafes
be called an occult quality. We know well
how it aftefts our fenfes ; bat what it is in itfelf
we know not. But this, as well as other oc-
cult

456 ESSAY VIII.

CHAP, cult qualities, is a proper fubjeQ: of philofophi-
• cal difquifition ; and, by a careful examination

^'^ of the objects to which Nature hath given this
amiable quality, we may perhaps difcover fome
real excellence in the objeO:, or, at leaft, fome
valuable purpofe that is ferved by the fffect
which it produces upon us.

This inrtinclive fenfe of beauty, in different
fpecies of animals, may differ as much as the
external fenfe of tafte, and in each fpecies be
adapted to its manner of life. By this per-
haps the various tribes are led to alfociate with
their kind, to dwell among certain objects ra-
ther than others, and to conflruct their habi-
tation in a particular manner.

There feem likewife to be varieties in the
fenfe of beauty in the individuals of the fame
fpecies, by which they are directed in the choice
of a mate, and in the love and care of their
offspring.

" We fee," fays Mr. Addison, "that every
" different fpecies of fenfible creatures has its
" different notions of beauty, and that each
" of them is moil affected with the beauties
" of its own kind. This is no where more
" remarkable than in birds of the fame fhape
" and proportion, where we often fee the mate
" determined in his courtfhip by the fmgle
" grain or tincture of a feather, and never
" difcovering any charms but in the colour of
'' its own foecies."

A

" Scit thalamofervarefidem, fan6tafque veretur
" Connubii leges; non ilium in pectore candor
*' Sollicitat niveus; neque pravum accendit

" amorem
^' Splendida lanugo, vel honefla inverticecrifla;

" Purpureufve

O F B E A U T Y. 457

^^ Purpureufve nitor pennarum ; aft agmina late CHAP.
" Foeminea explorat cautus, maculafque re- ^^'•

" quirit
" Cognatas, paribufque interlita corpora guttis:
" Ni faceret, pidis fylvam circum undique

" monftris
" Confufamafpiceresvulgo, partufque biformes,
" Et genus ambiguum, et veneris monumenta

" nefandse.

" Hinc merula in nigro fe obledat nigra

" marito;
" Hinc focium lafciva petit philomela canorum,
" Agnofcitquc pares ibnitus; hinc noctua te-

" tram
" Canitiem alarum, et glaucos miratur ocellos.
*' Nempe fibi femper conftat, crefcitque quo-

" tannis
" Lucida progenies, caftos confefla parentes:
" Vere novo exultat, plumafque decora ju-

" ventus
" Explicatadfolem, patriifquecoloribus ardet."

In the human kind there are varieties in the
tafte of beauty, of which we can no more af-
fign a reafon than of the variety of their fea-
tures, though it is eafy to perceive that very
important ends are anfwered by both. Thefe
varieties are moft obfervable in the judgments
we form of the features of the other fex ; and
in this the intention of Nature is moft appa-
rent.

As far as our determinations of the compa-
rative beauty of objefts are inftinctive, they
are no fubjed: of reafoning or of criticifm ;
they are purely the gift of Nature, and we

have

45^ ESSAY VIII.

CHAP, have no flandard by which they may be mea-
^^' fured.

But there are judgments of beauty that may
be called rational, being grounded on fome
agreeable quality of the object which is diftincc-
ly conceived, and may be fpecified.

This diuinflion between a rational judgment
of beauty and that which is inftinclive, may
be illuftrated by an inflance.

In a heap of pebbles, one that is remarkable
for brilliancy of colour and regularity of figure,
will be picked out of the heap by a child. He
perceives a beauty in it, puts a value upon it,
and is fond of the property of it. For this
preference, no reafon can be given, but that
children are, by their conflitution, fond of
brilliant colours, and of regular figures.

Suppofe again that an expert mechanic
views a well conftrucled machine. He fees all
its parts to be made of the fitted materials, and
of the mod proper form ; nothing fuperfluous,
nothing deficient ; every part adapted to its
ufe, and the whole fitted in the mod perfect
manner to the end for which it is intended.
He pronounces it to be a beautiful machine.
He views it with the fame agreeable emotion
as the child viewed the pebble ; but he can
give a reafon for his judgment, and point out
the particular perfedions of the objeft on
which it is grounded.

x^lthouoh the indindlve and the rational

o

fenfe of beauty may be perfeftly didinguifhed
in fpeculation, yet, in paiiing judgment upon
particular objects, they are often fo mixed
and confounded, that it is difficult to affign to
each its own province. Nay, it may often
happen, that a judgment of the beauty of an

objed,

I

O F B E A U T y. 459

objeft, which was at firil merely infl:In6i:ive,C H A P.
fliall afterwards become rational, when we dif- ''^•
cover fome latent pcrfcdion of which that
beauty in the object is a fign.

As the fenfe of beauty may be difhinguifhed
into inftindive and rational ; lb I think beauty
itfelf may be dillinguifhed into original and
derived.

As fome objects fliine by their own light,
and many more by light that is borrowed and
reflected; fo I conceive the luftre of beauty
in fome objects is inherent and original, and
in many others is borrowed and reflected.

There is nothing more common in the fen-
timents of all mankind, and in the language
of all nations, than vdiat may be called a com-
munication of attributes ; that is, transferring
an attribute, from the fubjett to which it pro-
perly belongs, to fome related or refembling
fubje6t.

The various objects which Nature prefents
to our view, even thofe that arc moft different
in kind, have innumerable fimilitudes, rela-
tions, and analogies, which we contemplate
with pleafure, and which lead us naturally to
borrow words and attributes from one objed:
to exprefs what belongs to another. The
greateil part of every language under heaven
is made up of words borrowed from one thing,
and applied to fomething fuppofed to have
fome relation or analogy to their firft fignifi-
cation.

The attributes of body we afcribe to mind,
and the attributes of mind to material objects.
To inanimate things we afcribe life, and even
intelledual and moral qualities. And although
the qualities that are thus made common

belong

46o ESSAY VIII.

CHAP, belong to one of the fubje£ls in the proper
^^' fenie, and to the other metaphorically, thefe
dliFerent fenfes are often fo mixed in our ima-
gination, as to produce the fame fentiment
with regard to both.

It is therefore natural, arid agreeable to the
flrain of human fentiments and of human
language, that in many cafes the beauty which
originally and properly is in the thing fignified,
fliould be transferred to the fign; that which
is in the caufe to the effeft; that which is in
the end to the means; and that which is in the
agent to the inflrument.

If what was faid in -the lad chapter of the
diftinclion between the grandeur which we af-
cribe to qualities of mind, and that which we
afcribe to material objetls, be well founded,
this diflinftion of the beauty of objeds will
eafily be admitted as perfectly analogous to
it. I ihall therefore only illuftrate it by an
example.

There is nothing in the exterior of a man
more lovely and more attradive than perfect
good breeding. But what is this good breed-
ing? It confiits of all the external figns of
due refpeft to our fuperiors, condefcenfion to
our inferiors, politenefs to all with whom we
converfe or have to do, joined in the fair fex
with that delicacy of outward behaviour which
becomes them. And how comes it to have
fuch charms in the eyes of all manicind? For
this reafon only, as I apprehend, that it is a
natural fign of that temper, and thofe affec-
tions and fentiments with regard to others,
and with regard to ourfelves, which are in
themfelves truly amiable and beautiful.

This

O F B E A U T Y. 461

This is the original, of which good breed- C H A P.
ing is the pidure; and it is the beauty of the ^^•
original that is refleded to our fenfe by the*
pidure. The beauty of good breeding, there-
fore, is not originally in the external behaviour
in which it confifts, but is derived from the
qualities of mind which it exprefles. And
though there may be good breeding without
the amiable qualities of mind, its beauty is
ftill derived from what it naturally exprefles.

Having explained thefe diftinclions of our
fenfe of beauty into inftinclive and rational,
and of beauty itfelf into original and derived,
I would now proceed to give a general view of
thofe qualities in objeds, to which we may
juftly and rationally afcribe beauty, whether
original or derived.

But here fome embarraffment arifes from the
vague meaning of the word beauty, which I
had occafion before to obferve.

Sometimes it it extended, fo as to include
every thing that pleafes a good tafte, and fo
comprehends grandeur and novelty, as well
as what in a more reilricled fenfe is called
beauty. At other times, it is even by good
writers confined to the obje£ls of fight, when
they are either feen, or remembered,, or ima-
gined. Yet it is admitted by all men, that
there are beauties in mufic; that there is
beauty as well as fublimity in compofition,
both in verfe and in profe; that there is beau-
ty in characters, in affections, and in adions.
Thefe are not objects of fight; and a man may
be a good judge of beauty of various kinds,
who has not the faculty of fight.

To give a determinate meaning to a word fo
varioufly extended and reftrided, I know no

better

462 ESSAY VIIL

C H A P. better wav than what is fuggefted by the coin-
^^- mon divifion of the objects of tafte into novel-
' - ty, grandeur, and beauty. Novelty, it is
plain, is no quahty of the new objecl, but
merely a relation which it has to the knowledge
of the perfon to whom it is new. Therefore,
if this general divifion be jull, every quality
in an objecl that pleafes a good tafte, muft,
in one degree or another, have either grandeur
or beauty. It mav flill be difficult to fix the
precife limit betwixt grandeur and beauty;
but they muft together comprehend every
thing fitted by its nature to pleafe a good tafte,
that is, every real perfeclion and excellence
in the objects we contemplate.

In a poem, in a picture, in a piece of mu-
fic, it is real excellence that pleafes a good
tafte. In a perfon, every perfeclion of the
mine, moral or intellectual, and every perfec-
tion of the body, gives pleafure to the fpecta-
tor as well as to the owner, when there is no
envy nor malignity to deftroy that pleafure.

It is therefore in the fcale of perfection and
real excellence that we muft look for what
is either grand or beautiful in objects. What
is the proper object of admiration is grand,
and what is the proper object ot love and ef-
teem is beautiful.

This, I think, is the only notion of beauty
that correfponds with the divifion of the ob-
jects of tafte which has been generally receiv-
ed by Fhilofophers. And this connection of
beauty, with real perfection, was a capital
doCtrine of the Socratic fchool. It is often
afcribedto Socrates in the dialogues of Pla-
to and of Xenophon.

We

OF BEAUTY. 46^

We may therefore take a view, firft, ofCHAP
thole qualities of mind to which we may juflly ^ " •
and rationally afcribe beauty, and then of the "— -'^^"'•-'
beauty we perceive in the objefts of fenie.
We ihall fmd, if I miftake not, that, in the
tirft, original beauty is to be found, and that
the beauties of the fecond clafs are derived
from fome relation they bear to mind, as the
figns or expreliions of fome amiable mental
quality, or as the effetls of defign, art, and
wife contrivance.

As grandeur naturally produces admiration,
beauty naturally produces love. We may
therefore juflly afcribe beauty to thofe qualities
which are the natural objctls of love and kind
affection.

Of this kind chiefly are fome of the moral
virtues, which in a peculiar manner conllitute
a lovely character. Innocence, gentlenefj,
condefcenfion, humanity, natural atfedion,
public fpirit, and the v/hole train of the foft
and gentle virtues. Thefe qualities are ami-
able from their very nature, and on account
of their intrinfic worth.

There are other virtues that raife admiration,
and are therefore grand; fuch as magnanimity,
fortitude, felf-command, fuperiority to pain
and labour, fuperiority to pleafure, and to
the fmiies of fortune as well as to her frowns.

Thefe awful virtues conflitute what is mod
grand in the human character ; the gentle vir-
tues, what is moft beautiful and lovely. As
they are virtues, they draw the approbation of
our moral faculty; as they are becoming and
amiable, they affect our fenfe of beauty.

Next to the amiable moral virtues, there are
many intelleftual talents which have an intrinfic

value.

464 ESSAY VIII.

CHAP, value, and draw our love and efteem to thofe
IV^ who poflefs them. Such are, knowledge,
'good fenfe, wit, humour, cheerfulnefs, good
tafte, excellence in any of the fine arts, in
eloquence, in dramatic action ; and we may
add, excellence in every art of peace or war
that is ufeful in fociety.

There are likewife talents which we refer to
the body, which have an original beauty and
comelinefs; fuch as health, flrength, and agi-
lity, the ufual attendants of youth; fkill in
bodily exercifes, and fkill in the mechanic arts.
Thefe are real perfections of the man, as they
increafe his power, and render the body a fit
inflrument for the mind.

I apprehend, therefore, that it is In the mo-
ral and intelleftual perfections of mind, and
in its active powers, that beauty originally
dwells ; and that from this as the fountain, all
the beauty which we perceive in the vifible
world is derived.

This, I think, was the opinion of the anci-
ent Philofophers before named; and it has
been adopted by Lord Shaftesbury and Dr.
Akenside among the moderns.

" Mind, mind alone! bear witnefs earth and

" heav'n,
" The living fountains in itfelf contains
" Of beauteous and fublime. Here hand in

" hand
" Sit paramount the graces. Here enthron'd,
" Celeflial Venus, with divined airs,
" Invites the foul to never-fading joy.**

AKENdlDE.

But neither mind, nor any of its qualities or
powers, is an imi^ediate object of perception

ta

O F B E A U T Y. 465

to man. We are, indeed, immediately con- CHAP,
fcious of the operations of our own mind; ^^•
and every degree of perfection in them gives
the pureft pleafure, with a proportional degree
of felf-efteem, fo flattering to felf-love, that
the great difficulty is to keep it within juft
bounds, fo that we may not think of ourfelves
above what we ought to think.

Other minds we perceive only through the
medium of material objects, on which their
fignatures are imprcfled. It is through this
medium that we perceive life, activity, wif-
dom, and every moral and intellectual quality
in other beings. The figns of thofe qualities
are immediately perceived by the fenfes; by
them the qualifies themfelves are reflected to our
underftanding ; and we are very apt to attri-
bute to the fign the beauty or the grandeur,
which is properly and originally in the things
fignified.

The invifible Creator, the Fountain of all
perfection, hath (tamped upon all his works
fignatures of his divine wifdom, power, and
benignity, which are vifible to all men. The
works of men in fcience, in the arts of tafte,
and in the mechanical arts, bear the fignatures
of thofe qualities of mind which were employ-
ed in their production. Their external beha-
viour and conduct in life expreifes the good
or bad qualities of their mind.

In every fpecies of animals, v/e perceive by
vifible figns their inltincts, their appetites,
their affettions, their fagacity. Even in the
inanimate world there are many things analo-
gous to the qualities of mind; fo that there is
hardly any thing belonging to mind which may
not be reprefented by images taken from the

Vol. II. H h objects

468 ESSAY VIII.

CHAP. In harmony, the very names of concord
^J- and difcord are metaphorical, and fuppofe
iome analo8;y between the relations of found,
to which they are figuratively applied, and the
relations of minds and affedions, which they
originally and properly fignify.

As far as 1 can judge by my ear. when two
or more perfons of a good voice and ear, con-
verfe together in amity and friend fliip, the
tones of their different voices are concordant,
but become diicordant when they give vent to
angry pallions; fo that, without hearing w^hat
is faid, one may know by the tones of the dif-
ferent voices, whether they quarrel or converfe
amicably. This, indeed, is not fo eafily per-
ceived in thofe who have been taught, by good-
breeding, to fupprefs any tones of voice, even
when they are angry, as in the loweft rank,
who exprefs their angry pafTions without any
reilraint.

When difcord arifes occafionally in conver-
fation, but foon terminates in perfect amity,
we receive more pleafure than from perfect
uianimity. In hke manner, in the harmony
of mufic, difccrdant founds are occafionally
introduced, but it is always in order to give a
relifn to the moil perfect concord that follow^s.
Whether thefe analogies, between the har-
mony of a piece of mufic, and harmony in
the intercouri'e of minds, be merely fanciful,
or have any real foundation in fad, I fubmit
to thofe who have a nicer ear, and have applied
it to obfervations of this kind. If they have
any juil foundation, as they feem to me to
have, they ferve lo account for the metaphori-
cal application of the names of concord and
difcord to the relations of founds 5 to account

for

OF BEAUTY. 469

for the pleafure we have from harmony in mu-C HAP.
fic; and to Ihow, that the beauty of harmony ^^•
is derived from the relation it has to agreeable '-""^^'^
affeftions of mind.

With regard to mel-^dy, I leave it to the
adepts in the fcience of mufic, to determine,
whether mufic, compofed according to the
eftablifhed rules of harmony and melody, can
be altogether void of expreffion; and whether
mufic that has no expreliion can have any beau-
ty. To me it feems, that every flrain in me-
lody that is agreeable, is an imitation of the
tones of the human voice in the expreffion of
fome fentiment or paffion, or an imitation of
fome other objeft in nature ; and that mufic,
as well as poetry, is an imitative art.

The fenfe of beauty in the colours, and in
the motions of inanimate objeds, is, I be-
lieve, in fome cafes inflinctive. We fee, that
children and favages are pleafed with brilliant
colours and fprightly motions. In perfons of
an improved and rational tafte, there are ma-
nv fources from which colours and motions
may derive their beauty. They, as well as the
forms of objects, admit of regularity and va-
riety. The motions produced by machinery,
indicate the perfection or imperfedion of the
mechanifm, and may be better or worfe adapt-
ed to their end, and from that derive their
beauty or deformity.

The colours of natural objects, are com-
monly figns of fome good or bad quality in
the objed ; or they may fuggeit to the imagi-
nation fomething agreeable or difagreeable.

In drefs and furniture, fafiiion has a confi-
derable influence on the preference we give to
one colour above another.

A num-

470 ESSAY VIII.

CHAP. A number of clcuds of diflerent and ever-
^^J|j_;^ changing hue, fcen on the ground of a ferene
azure fky at the gomg down of the fun, prc-
fent to the eye of every man a glorious fptfta-
cie. It is hard to fay, whether we fhould call
it grand or beautiful. It is both in a high de-
gree. Clouds towering above clouds, vari-
ouflv tinged, according as they approach nearer
to the direct rays of the fun, enlarge our
conceptions of the regions above us. They
give us a view of the furniture of thofe regi-
ons, which, in an unclouded air, feem to be
a perfed: void; but are now feen to contain
the (lores of wind and rain, bound up for the
prefent, but to be poured down upon the
earth in due fcafon. Even the iimple ruftic
does not look upon this beautiful fky, merely
as a (how to pleafe the eye, but as a happy
omen of fine weather to come.

The proper arrangement of colour, and of
light and Ihade, is one of the chief beauties
of painting ; but this beauty is greateft, when
that arrangement gives the moft diilincl:, the
molt natural, and the moft agreeable image of
that which the painter intended to reprefent.

If we confider, in the laft place, the beauty
of form or figure in inanimate objects, this,
according to Dr. Hutcheson. refults from
regularity, mixed with variety. Here it ought
to be obferved, that regularity, in ail cafes,
exprefies defign and art: For nothing regular
was ever the work of chance; and where re-
gularity is joined with variety, it expreflss de-
fign more llrongly. Befides, it has been juftly
obferved, that regular figures are more eafily
and more perfectly comprehended by the mind

than

O F B E A U T Y. 471

than the irregular, of which we can never formC HAP.
an adequate conception. ^"*

Although ftraight Hnes and plain furfaces " ""^^"'^
have a beauty from their regularity, they admit
of no varietv, and therefore are beauties of the
lowed order. Curve lines and furfaces admit
of infinite variety, joined with every degree of
regularity ; and therefore, in many cafes, ex-
cel in beauty thofe that are ftraight.

But the beauty ariiing from regularity and
variety, muft always yield to that which arifes
from the fitnefs of the form for the end intend-
ed. In every thing made for an end, the form
muft be adapted to that end ; and every thing
in the form that fuits the end, is a beauty ;
every thing that unfits it for its end, is a de-
formity.

The forms of a pillar, of a fword, and of a
balance are very different. Each may have
great beauty ; but that beauty is derived from
the fitnefs of the form, and of the matter for
the purpofe intended.

Were we to confider the form of the earth
itfelf, and the various furniture it contains, of
the inanimate kind ; its diftribution into land
and fea, mountains and valleys, rivers and
fprings of water, the variety of foils that cover
its furface, and of mineral and metallic fub-
ftances laid up within it, the air that furrounds
it, the viciffitudes of day and night, and of the
feafons ; the beauty of all thefe, which indeed
is fuperlative, confifts in this, that they bear
the moft lively and ftriking impreflion of the
wifdom and goodnefs of their Author, in con-
triving them fo admirably for the ufe of man,
and of their other inhabitants.

The

472

ESSAY VIII.

The beauties of the vegetable kingdom are
far fupericr to thofe of inanimate matter, in
any form which human art can give it. Hence,
in all ajies, men have been fond to adorn their
perfons and their habitations with the vegeta-
ble produftions of nature.

The beauties of the field, of the foreft, and
of the flower-garden, flrike a child long before
he can reafon. He is delighted with v/hat he
fees ; but he knows not why. This is inftinft,
but it is not confined to childhood ; it conti-
nues through all the flages of life. It leads the
Florift, the Botanift, the Philofopher, to exa-
mine and compare the objects which Nature,
by this powerful inflind, recommends to his
attention. By degrees, he becomes a Critic
in beauties of this kind, and can give a reafon
why he prefers one to another. In every fpe-
cies, he fees the greateft beauty in the plants
or flowers that are moft perfeft in their kind,
which have neither fuffered from unkindly foil,
nor inclement weather ; which have not been
robbed of their nourifhment by other plants,
nor hurt by any accident. When he examines
the internal flruclure of thofe produdions of
Nature, and [traces them from their embryo
flate in the feed to their maturity, he fees a
thoufand beautiful contrivances of Nature,
which feaft his under (landing more than their
external form delighted his eye.

Thus, every beauty in the vegetable creation,
of w^hich he has formed any rational judgment,
exprefles fome perfedion in the objeft, or fome
wife contrivance in its Author.

In the animal kingdom, we perceive dill
greater beauties than in the vegetable. Here
vvc obferve life, and fenfe, and activity, various

inflinds

O F B E A U T Y. 473

inftinfts and afFedtions, and, in many cafes, C H A p.
great fagacity. Thefe are attributes of mind, I^-
and have an original beauty.

As we allow to brute animals a thinking
principle or mind, though far inferior to that
which is in man ; and as, in many of their in-
tellectual and adive powers, they very much
referable the human fpecies, their aftions,
their motions, and even their looks, derive a
beauty from the powers of thought which they
exprefs. *

There is a wonderful variety in their manner
of life ; and we find the powers they poflefs,
their outward form, and their inward ftrudure,
exactly adapted to it. In every ipecies, the
more perfectly any individual is fitted for its
end and manner of life, the greater is its
beauty.

In a race-horfe, every thing that exprelTes
agility, ardour, and emulation, gives beauty
to the animal. In a pointer, acutenefs of
fcent, eagernefs on the game, and traftablenefs,
are the beauties of the fpecies. A fheep de-
rives its beauty from the finenefs and quantity
of its fleece ; and in the wild animals, every
beauty is a fign of their perfedion in their
kind.

It is an obfervation of the celebrated Lin-
N^us, that, in the vegetable kingdom, the
poifonous plants have commonly a lurid and
difagreeable appearance to the eye, of which
he gives many inflances. I apprehend the ob-
fervation may be extended to the animal king-
dom, in which we commonly fee fomething
fhocking to the eye in the noxious and poifon-
ous animals.

The

474 ESSAY VIIL

IV

CHAP. The beauties which Anatomifts and Phyfio-
logifts dcfcribe in the internal flrudlure of the
various tribes of animals ; in the organs of fenfe,
of nutrition, and of motion, arc exprellive of
v/ife defign and contrivance, in fitting them for
the various kinds of life for which they are
inteoded.

Thus, I think, it appears, that the beauty
which we perceive in the inferior animals, is
expreflive, either of fuch perfections as their
fcveral natures may receive, or expreflive of
wife defign in him who made them, and that
their beauty is derived from the perfections
which it exprelfes.

But of all the objects of fenfe, the moft
ftriking and attractive beauty is perceived in
the human fpecies, and particularly in the
fair fcx.

Milton reprefents Satan himfelf, in furvey-
ing the furniture of this globe, as ftruck with
the beauty of the firlt happy pair.

Two of far nobler fhape, ereCt and tall.

Godlike erect ! with native honour clad
in naked majefty, feem'd lords of all.
And worthy feem'd, for in their looks divine.
The image of their glorious Maker, ftione
^ Truth, wifdom, fanCtitude fevere, and pure j
; Severe, but in true filial freedom plac'd,
: Whence true authority in man ; though both
I'Not equal as their fex not equal feem'd,
- For contemplation he, and valour formed.
For foftnefs ihe, and fweet attractive grace.

In this well known paflage of Milton, we
fee that this great Poet derives the beauty of
the firft pair in Paradife from thofe expreflions

of

O F B E A U T Y. 475

of moral and intelledlual qualities which ap- ^ ^^ ^'
peared in their outward form and demeanour. "

The mofl: minute and fyllematical account
of beauty in the human fpecies, and particularly
in the fair fex, I have met with, is in Crito ;
or, a Diahgiie on Beauty, faid to be written by
the author of Polymetis, and republiihed by
DoDSLEY in his colletfion of fu.iitive pieces.

I fliall borrow from that author fome obfer-
vations, which, I think, tend to ihow that the
beauty of the human body is derived from the
figns it exhibits of fome perfection of the mind
or perfon.

All that can be called beauty in the human
fpecies may be reduced to thefe four heads ;
colour, form, exprelfion, and grace. The two
former may be called the body, the two latter
the foul of beauty.

The beauty of colour is not owing folely to
the natural livelinefs of flefh-colour and red,
nor to the much greater charms they receive
from being properly blended together ; but is
alfo owing, in fome degree, to the idea they
carry with them of good health, without which
all beauty grows languid and lefs engaging, and
with which it ahvays recovers an additional
ftrength and luftre. This is fupported by the
authority of Cicero. Vcnujias et pulcbritudo
corporis fecerni nonpotcji avaletudine.

Here I obferve, that as the colour of the
body is very different in different climates,
every nation preferring the colour of its cli-
mate ; and as among us one man prefers a fair
beauty, another a brunette, without being able
to give any reafon for this preference ; this di-
ve;rfity of tafte has no ftandard in the common
principles of human nature ; but mufl arife

from

476 ESSAY Vm.

CHAP. from fomething that is different in different
^^- nations, and in different individuals of the
"^^ fame nation.

I obferved before, that fafliion, habit, affo-
ciations, and perhaps fome peculiarity of con-
ftitution, may have great influence upon this
internal fcnfe, as well as upon the external.
Setting afide the judgments arifing from fuch
caufes, there feems to remain nothing that,
according to the common judgment of man-
kind, can be called beauty in the colour of the
fpecies, but what exprcffes perfect health and
livelinefs, and in the fair fex foftnefs and deli-
cacy ; and nothing that can be called deformity
but what indicates difeale and decline. And
if this be fo, it follows, that the beauty of co-
lour is derived from the perfedions which it
expreffes. This, however, of all the ingredi-
ents of beauty, is the leaft.

The next in order is form, or proportion of
parts. The mofl beautiful form, as the author
thinks, is that which indicates delicacy and
foftnefs in the fair fex, and in the male either
ftrength or agility. The beauty of form, there-
fore, lies all in expreliion.

The third ingredient, which has more pow-
er than either colour or form, he calls expreffi-
on, and obferves, that it is only the expreliion
of the tender and kind pafiions that gives
beauty ; that all the cruel and unkind ones add
to deformity ; and that, on this account, good
nature may very juftly be faid to be the beft
feature, even in the flneft: face. Modelly, fen-
fibility, and fweetnefs, blended together, fo as
either to enliven or to correal: each other, give
almofl as much attraction as the paffions are
capable of adding to a very pretty iace.

It

O F B E A U T Y. 477

It is owing, fays the author, to the great^ HAP.
force of pleafmgnefs which attends all the .

kinder paflions, that lovers not only feem, but^ '
really are, more beautiful to each other than
they are to the reft of the world ; becaufe,
when they are together, the moft pleafmg pafli-
ons are more frequently exerted in each of their
faces than they are in either before the reft of
the world. There is then, as a French author
very well exprefles it, a foul upon their coun-
tenances, which does not appear when they are
abfent from one another, or even in company
that lays a reftraint upon their features.

There is a great diiference in the fame face,
according as the perfon is in a better or a worfe
humour, or more or lefs lively. The beft
complexion, the fineft features, and the exact-
eft fhape, without any thing of the mind ex-
prefled in the face, is infipid and unmoving.
The fineft eyes in the world, with an excefs of
malice or rao^e in them, will grow ftiockin?-.
The paflions can give beauty without the aflili-
ance of colour or torm, and take it away where
thefe have united moft ftrongly to give it ; and
therefore this part of beauty is greatly fuperior
to the other two.

The laft and nobleft part of beauty is grace,
which the author thinks undennable.

Nothing caufes love fo generally and irrefifti-
bly as grace. Therefore, in the mythology of
the Greeks and Romans, the Graces were the
conftant attendants of Venus the goddefs of
love. Grace is like the ceftus of the fame eod-
defs, which was fuppofed to comprehend every
thing that was winning and engaging, and to
create love by a fecret and inexplicable force,
like that of fome magical charm.

There

478 ESSAY VIIL

P. There are two klrxls of grace, the majeftic
and the familiar ; the firft more commanding,
the laft more delightful and engaging. The
Grecian Painters and Sculptors ufed to exprefs
the former moft firongly in the looks and atti-
tudes of their Minervas, and the latter in
thofe of Venus. This dillinftion is marked in
the defcription of the perfonages of Virtue and
Pleafure in the ancient fable of the Choice of
Hercules.

Graceful, but each with different grace they

move,
This flriking facred awe, that fofter winning

love.

In the perfons of Adam and Eve in Paradife,
Milton has made the fame diftindion.

For contemplation he, and valour form'd.
For foftnefs fhe, and fweet attradive grace.

Though grace be fo difficult to be defined,
there are two things that hold univerfaliy with
relation to it. /vr//. There is no grace with-
out motion; fome genteel or pleafmg motion,
either of the whole body or of fome limb, or
at leafl fome feature. Hence, in the face,
grace appears only on thofe features that are
moveable, and change with the various emoti-
ons and fentiments of the mind, fuch as the eyes
and eye-brows, the mouih and parts adjacent.
When Venus appeared to her fon JEneas in
difguife, and, after fome converfation with
him, retired, it was by the grace of her motion
in retiring that he difcovered her to be truly a

goddefs.

Dixit,

O F B E A U T Y. 479

Dixit, et avertens rofea cervice refulfit,
Ambrofi^eque comsc divinum vertlce odorem
Spiravere ; pedes veflis detiuxit ad imos ;
Et vera inceiru patuit dea. Ille, ubi matrem
Agnovit, l3'c.

A fecond obfervatlon is, That there can be
no grace with impropriety, or that nothing can
be graceful that is not adapted to the character
and fituation of the perfon.

From thefe obfervations, which appear to
meto be jufl, we may, I think, conclude, that
grace, as far as it is vifible, confifts of thofe
motions, either of the whole body, or of a part
or feature, which exprefs the moft perfect pro-
priety of conduQ: and fentiment in an amiable
charader.

Thofe motions mud be different in different
characters ; they mufl vary with every variation
of emotion and fentiment ; they may exprefs
either dignity or refped, confidence or referve,
love or juft refentmcnr, efleem or indignation,
zeal or indifference. Every paflion, fentiment,
or emotion, that in its nature and degree is
jufl and proper, and correfponds perfeftly with
the charader of the perfon, and with the occa-
fion, is what we may call the foul of grace.
The body or vifible part confifls of thofe mo-
tions and features which give the true and un-
affe6ted expreffion of this foul.

Thus, I think, all the ingredients of human '
beauty, as they are enumerated and defcribed
by this ingenious author, terminate in expreffi-
on : They either exprefs fome perfection of the
body, as a part of the man, and an inftrument
of the mind, or fome amiable quality or at-
tribute of the mind itfelf.

It

48o ESSAY VIII.

^ ^iv ^' ^^ cannot indeed be denied, that the expreffi-
^^^.L^ on of a fine countenance may be unnaturally
disjoined from the amiable qualities which it
naturally exprefles : But we prefume the con-
trary, till we have a clear evidence ; and even
then, we pay homage to the expreffion, as we
do to the throne when it happens to be unwor-
thily filled.

Whether what I have offered to iliew, that
all the beauty of the objefts of fenfe is borrow-
ed, and derived from the beauties of mind
which it exprefles or fuggeits to the imagina-
tion, be well founded or not ; I hope this ter-
reflrial Venus will not be deemed lefs worthy
of the homage which has always been paid to
her, by being conceived more nearly allied to
the celeftial, than flie has commonly been re-
prefented.

To make an end of this fubjeft, tafte feems
to be progreflive as man is. Children, when
refreflied by lleep, and at eafe from pain and
hunger, are difpofed to attend to the objects
about them ; they are pleafed with briUiant co-
lours, gaudy ornaments, regular forms, cheer-
ful countenances, noify mirth, and glee. Such
is the tafte of childhood, which we muft con-
clude to be given for wife purpofes. A great
part of the happinefs of that period of life is
derived from it ; and therefore it ought to be
indulged. It leads them to attend to objects
which they may afterwards find worthy of their
attention. It puts them upon exerting their
infant faculties of body and mind, which, by
fuch exertions, are daily ftrengthened and
improved.

As they advance in years and in underftandr .
ing, other beauties attrad their attention, which

by

O F B E A tr T r* 481

by their novelty or fiiperiority, throw a {hade CHAP*
upon thofe they formerly admired. Theyde-,
light in feats of agility, ftrength, and art ;
they love thofe that excel in them, and ftrive
to equal them. In the tales and fables they
hear, they begin to difcern beauties of mindi
Some characters and aftions appear lovely^
others give difguftk The intelledual and mo-
ral powers begin to open, and, if cherifhed by
favourable circumftances, advance gradually in
ftrength, till they arrive at that degreee of per-
fection, to which human nature^ in its prefent
ftate, is limited.

In our progrefs from infancy to maturity^
bur faculties open in a regular order appointed
by Nature ; the meaneft firft ; thofe of more
dignity in fucceffion, until the moral and ra-
tional powers finifh the man. Every faculty
fur nifties new notions, brings new beauties into
view, and enlarges the province of tafl:e ; fo
that we may fay, there is a tafte of childhood,
a tafte of youth, and a manly tafte. Each is
beautiful in its feafon ; but not fo much fo,
when carried beyond its feafon. Not that the
man ought to diflike the things that pleafe the
child, or the youth, but to put lefs value upon
them, compared with other beauties, with
which he ought to be acquainted.

Our moral and rational powers juftly claim
dominion over the whole man. Even tafte is
hot exempted from their authority ; it muft be
fubjeft to that authority in every cafe wherein
we pretend to reafon or difpute about matters
of tafte ; it is the voice of reafon that our love
or our admiration ought to be proportioned to
the merit of the object. When it is not ground-
ed on real worth, it muft be the effeCt of con-

ftitution.

482 ESSAY VIII.

CHAP, flltution, or of feme habit or cafual aflbciatlon.
^^■^ ^ A fond mother may fee a beauty in her darling
child, or a fond author in his work, to which
the reft of the world are blind. In fuch cafes,
the .affection is pre-engaged, and, as it were,
bribes the judgment, to make the object worthy
of that affection. For the mind cannot be eafy
in putting a value upon an object beyond what
it conceives to be due. When affection is not
carried away by fome natural or acquired bias,
it naturally is and ought to be led by the judg-
ment.

As, in the divifion which I have followed of
our intellectual powers, I mentioned moral per-
ception and confcioufnefs, the reader may ex-
pect that fome reafon fhould be given, why
they are not treated of in this place.

As to confcioufnefs ; what I think neceflfary
to be faid upon it has been already faid, Effay
6. chap. 5. As to the faculty of moral per-
ception, it is indeed a mofl important part of
human underftanding, and well worthy of the
moft attentive confideration, fmce without it
we could have no conception of right and
wrong, of duty and moral obligation, and
fmce the firft principles of morals, upon which
all moral reaioning muft be grounded, are its
immediate dictates ; but as it is an active as
well as an intellectual power, and has an im-
mediate relation to the other active powers of
ihe mind, I apprehend that it is proper to defer
ihe confideration of it tillthefe be explained.

THE END.

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