AN ESSAY CONCERNING HUMANE UNDERSTANDING IN FOUR BOOKS BY JOHN LOCKE Quam bellum est velle confiteri potius nescire quod nescias, quam istaeffutientem nauseare, atque ipsum sibi displicere. --Cic. De Natur. Deor. 1. I. LONDON Printed by Eliz. Holt, for Thomas Basset, at the George in FleetStreet, near St. Dunstan's Church. MDCXC CONTENTS:[Based on the 2d Edition] EPISTLE DEDICATORY TO THE EARL OF PEMBROKE THE EPISTLE TO THE READER INTRODUCTION BOOK I. NEITHER PRINCIPLES NOR IDEAS ARE INNATE. I. NO INNATE SPECULATIVE PRINCIPLESII. NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLESIII. OTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING INNATE PRINCIPLES, BOTH SPECULATIVE AND PRACTICAL BOOK II. OF IDEAS. I. OF IDEAS IN GENERAL, AND THEIR ORIGINALII. OF SIMPLE IDEASIII. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSATIONIV. IDEA OF SOLIDITYV. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF DIVERS SENSESVI. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF REFLECTION . .. VII. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF BOTH SENSATION AND REFLECTIONVIII. SOME FURTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING OUR SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSATIONIX. OF PERCEPTIONX. OF RETENTIONXI. OF DISCERNING, AND OTHER OPERATIONS OF THE MINDXII. OF COMPLEX IDEASXIII. OF SIMPLE MODES:--AND FIRST, OF THE SIMPLE MODES OF THE IDEA OF SPACEXIV. IDEA OF DURATION AND ITS SIMPLE MODESXV. IDEAS OF DURATION AND EXPANSION, CONSIDERED TOGETHERXVI. IDEA OF NUMBER AND ITS SIMPLE MODESXVII. OF THE IDEA OF INFINITYXVIII. OF OTHER SIMPLE MODESXIX. OF THE MODES OF THINKINGXX. OF MODES OF PLEASURE AND PAINXXI. OF THE IDEA OF POWERXXII. OF MIXED MODESXXIII. OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCESXXIV. OF COLLECTIVE IDEAS OF SUBSTANCESXXV. OF IDEAS OF RELATIONXXVI. OF IDEAS OF CAUSE AND EFFECT, AND OTHER RELATIONSXXVII. OF IDEAS OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITYXXVIII. OF IDEAS OF OTHER RELATIONSXXIX. OF CLEAR AND OBSCURE, DISTINCT AND CONFUSED IDEASXXX. OF REAL AND FANTASTICAL IDEASXXXI. OF ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEASXXXII. OF TRUE AND FALSE IDEASXXXIII. OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THOMAS, EARL OF PEMBROKE AND MONTGOMERY, BARONHERBERT OF CARDIFF LORD ROSS, OF KENDAL, PAR, FITZHUGH, MARMION, ST. QUINTIN, AND SHURLAND; LORD PRESIDENT OF HIS MAJESTY'S MOST HONOURABLE PRIVY COUNCIL; AND LORDLIEUTENANT OF THE COUNTY OF WILTS, AND OF SOUTH WALES. MY LORD, This Treatise, which is grown up under your lordship's eye, and hasventured into the world by your order, does now, by a natural kind ofright, come to your lordship for that protection which you several yearssince promised it. It is not that I think any name, how great soever, set at the beginning of a book, will be able to cover the faults thatare to be found in it. Things in print must stand and fall by their ownworth, or the reader's fancy. But there being nothing more to be desiredfor truth than a fair unprejudiced hearing, nobody is more likely toprocure me that than your lordship, who are allowed to have got sointimate an acquaintance with her, in her more retired recesses. Yourlordship is known to have so far advanced your speculations in the mostabstract and general knowledge of things, beyond the ordinary reach orcommon methods, that your allowance and approbation of the design ofthis Treatise will at least preserve it from being condemned withoutreading, and will prevail to have those parts a little weighed, whichmight otherwise perhaps be thought to deserve no consideration, forbeing somewhat out of the common road. The imputation of Novelty is aterrible charge amongst those who judge of men's heads, as they do oftheir perukes, by the fashion, and can allow none to be right but thereceived doctrines. Truth scarce ever yet carried it by vote anywhereat its first appearance: new opinions are always suspected, and usuallyopposed, without any other reason but because they are not alreadycommon. But truth, like gold, is not the less so for being newly broughtout of the mine. It is trial and examination must give it price, andnot any antique fashion; and though it be not yet current by the publicstamp, yet it may, for all that, be as old as nature, and is certainlynot the less genuine. Your lordship can give great and convincinginstances of this, whenever you please to oblige the public with someof those large and comprehensive discoveries you have made of truthshitherto unknown, unless to some few, from whom your lordship has beenpleased not wholly to conceal them. This alone were a sufficient reason, were there no other, why I should dedicate this Essay to your lordship;and its having some little correspondence with some parts of that noblerand vast system of the sciences your lordship has made so new, exact, and instructive a draught of, I think it glory enough, if your lordshippermit me to boast, that here and there I have fallen into some thoughtsnot wholly different from yours. If your lordship think fit that, byyour encouragement, this should appear in the world, I hope it may be areason, some time or other, to lead your lordship further; and you willallow me to say, that you here give the world an earnest of somethingthat, if they can bear with this, will be truly worth their expectation. This, my lord, shows what a present I here make to your lordship; justsuch as the poor man does to his rich and great neighbour, by whom thebasket of flowers or fruit is not ill taken, though he has more plentyof his own growth, and in much greater perfection. Worthless thingsreceive a value when they are made the offerings of respect, esteem, andgratitude: these you have given me so mighty and peculiar reasons tohave, in the highest degree, for your lordship, that if they can add aprice to what they go along with, proportionable to their own greatness, I can with confidence brag, I here make your lordship the richestpresent you ever received. This I am sure, I am under the greatestobligations to seek all occasions to acknowledge a long train of favoursI have received from your lordship; favours, though great and importantin themselves, yet made much more so by the forwardness, concern, and kindness, and other obliging circumstances, that never failed toaccompany them. To all this you are pleased to add that which gives yetmore weight and relish to all the rest: you vouchsafe to continue me insome degrees of your esteem, and allow me a place in your good thoughts, I had almost said friendship. This, my lord, your words and actions soconstantly show on all occasions, even to others when I am absent, thatit is not vanity in me to mention what everybody knows: but it would bewant of good manners not to acknowledge what so many are witnesses of, and every day tell me I am indebted to your lordship for. I wish theycould as easily assist my gratitude, as they convince me of the greatand growing engagements it has to your lordship. This I am sure, Ishould write of the UNDERSTANDING without having any, if I were notextremely sensible of them, and did not lay hold on this opportunity totestify to the world how much I am obliged to be, and how much I am, MY LORD, Your Lordship's most humble and most obedient servant, JOHN LOCKE 2 Dorset Court, 24th of May, 1689 THE EPISTLE TO THE READER READER, I have put into thy hands what has been the diversion of some of my idleand heavy hours. If it has the good luck to prove so of any of thine, and thou hast but half so much pleasure in reading as I had in writingit, thou wilt as little think thy money, as I do my pains, ill bestowed. Mistake not this for a commendation of my work; nor conclude, because Iwas pleased with the doing of it, that therefore I am fondly taken withit now it is done. He that hawks at larks and sparrows has no lesssport, though a much less considerable quarry, than he that flies atnobler game: and he is little acquainted with the subject of thistreatise--the UNDERSTANDING--who does not know that, as it is the mostelevated faculty of the soul, so it is employed with a greater and moreconstant delight than any of the other. Its searches after truth are asort of hawking and hunting, wherein the very pursuit makes a greatpart of the pleasure. Every step the mind takes in its progress towardsKnowledge makes some discovery, which is not only new, but the best too, for the time at least. For the understanding, like the eye, judging of objects only by its ownsight, cannot but be pleased with what it discovers, having less regretfor what has escaped it, because it is unknown. Thus he who has raisedhimself above the alms-basket, and, not content to live lazily on scrapsof begged opinions, sets his own thoughts on work, to find and followtruth, will (whatever he lights on) not miss the hunter's satisfaction;every moment of his pursuit will reward his pains with some delight; andhe will have reason to think his time not ill spent, even when he cannotmuch boast of any great acquisition. This, Reader, is the entertainment of those who let loose their ownthoughts, and follow them in writing; which thou oughtest not to envythem, since they afford thee an opportunity of the like diversion, ifthou wilt make use of thy own thoughts in reading. It is to them, ifthey are thy own, that I refer myself: but if they are taken upon trustfrom others, it is no great matter what they are; they are not followingtruth, but some meaner consideration; and it is not worth while to beconcerned what he says or thinks, who says or thinks only as he isdirected by another. If thou judgest for thyself I know thou wilt judgecandidly, and then I shall not be harmed or offended, whatever be thycensure. For though it be certain that there is nothing in this Treatiseof the truth whereof I am not fully persuaded, yet I consider myself asliable to mistakes as I can think thee, and know that this book muststand or fall with thee, not by any opinion I have of it, but thy own. If thou findest little in it new or instructive to thee, thou art not toblame me for it. It was not meant for those that had already masteredthis subject, and made a thorough acquaintance with their ownunderstandings; but for my own information, and the satisfaction ofa few friends, who acknowledged themselves not to have sufficientlyconsidered it. Were it fit to trouble thee with the history of this Essay, I shouldtell thee, that five or six friends meeting at my chamber, anddiscoursing on a subject very remote from this, found themselves quicklyat a stand, by the difficulties that rose on every side. After we hadawhile puzzled ourselves, without coming any nearer a resolution ofthose doubts which perplexed us, it came into my thoughts that we tooka wrong course; and that before we set ourselves upon inquiries of thatnature, it was necessary to examine our own abilities, and see whatOBJECTS our understandings were, or were not, fitted to deal with. ThisI proposed to the company, who all readily assented; and thereuponit was agreed that this should be our first inquiry. Some hasty andundigested thoughts, on a subject I had never before considered, whichI set down against our next meeting, gave the first entrance into thisDiscourse; which having been thus begun by chance, was continued byintreaty; written by incoherent parcels; and after long intervals ofneglect, resumed again, as my humour or occasions permitted; and atlast, in a retirement where an attendance on my health gave me leisure, it was brought into that order thou now seest it. This discontinued way of writing may have occasioned, besides others, two contrary faults, viz. , that too little and too much may be said init. If thou findest anything wanting, I shall be glad that what I havewritten gives thee any desire that I should have gone further. If itseems too much to thee, thou must blame the subject; for when I put pento paper, I thought all I should have to say on this matter would havebeen contained in one sheet of paper; but the further I went thelarger prospect I had; new discoveries led me still on, and so it grewinsensibly to the bulk it now appears in. I will not deny, but possiblyit might be reduced to a narrower compass than it is, and that someparts of it might be contracted, the way it has been writ in, bycatches, and many long intervals of interruption, being apt to causesome repetitions. But to confess the truth, I am now too lazy, or toobusy, to make it shorter. I am not ignorant how little I herein consultmy own reputation, when I knowingly let it go with a fault, so apt todisgust the most judicious, who are always the nicest readers. But theywho know sloth is apt to content itself with any excuse, will pardon meif mine has prevailed on me, where I think I have a very good one. Iwill not therefore allege in my defence, that the same notion, havingdifferent respects, may be convenient or necessary to prove orillustrate several parts of the same discourse, and that so it hashappened in many parts of this: but waiving that, I shall frankly avowthat I have sometimes dwelt long upon the same argument, and expressedit different ways, with a quite different design. I pretend not topublish this Essay for the information of men of large thoughts andquick apprehensions; to such masters of knowledge I profess myself ascholar, and therefore warn them beforehand not to expect anything here, but what, being spun out of my own coarse thoughts, is fitted to men ofmy own size, to whom, perhaps, it will not be unacceptable that I havetaken some pains to make plain and familiar to their thoughts sometruths which established prejudice, or the abstractedness of the ideasthemselves, might render difficult. Some objects had need be turned onevery side; and when the notion is new, as I confess some of these areto me; or out of the ordinary road, as I suspect they will appear toothers, it is not one simple view of it that will gain it admittanceinto every understanding, or fix it there with a clear and lastingimpression. There are few, I believe, who have not observed inthemselves or others, that what in one way of proposing was veryobscure, another way of expressing it has made very clear andintelligible; though afterwards the mind found little difference in thephrases, and wondered why one failed to be understood more than theother. But everything does not hit alike upon every man's imagination. We have our understandings no less different than our palates; and hethat thinks the same truth shall be equally relished by every one in thesame dress, may as well hope to feast every one with the same sort ofcookery: the meat may be the same, and the nourishment good, yet everyone not be able to receive it with that seasoning; and it must bedressed another way, if you will have it go down with some, even ofstrong constitutions. The truth is, those who advised me to publish it, advised me, for this reason, to publish it as it is: and since I havebeen brought to let it go abroad, I desire it should be understood bywhoever gives himself the pains to read it. I have so little affectionto be in print, that if I were not flattered this Essay might be of someuse to others, as I think it has been to me, I should have confinedit to the view of some friends, who gave the first occasion to it. Myappearing therefore in print being on purpose to be as useful as I may, I think it necessary to make what I have to say as easy and intelligibleto all sorts of readers as I can. And I had much rather the speculativeand quick-sighted should complain of my being in some parts tedious, than that any one, not accustomed to abstract speculations, orprepossessed with different notions, should mistake or not comprehend mymeaning. It will possibly be censured as a great piece of vanity or insolence inme, to pretend to instruct this our knowing age; it amounting to littleless, when I own, that I publish this Essay with hopes it may be usefulto others. But, if it may be permitted to speak freely of those whowith a feigned modesty condemn as useless what they themselves write, methinks it savours much more of vanity or insolence to publish a bookfor any other end; and he fails very much of that respect he owes thepublic, who prints, and consequently expects men should read, thatwherein he intends not they should meet with anything of use tothemselves or others: and should nothing else be found allowable in thisTreatise, yet my design will not cease to be so; and the goodness of myintention ought to be some excuse for the worthlessness of my present. It is that chiefly which secures me from the fear of censure, whichI expect not to escape more than better writers. Men's principles, notions, and relishes are so different, that it is hard to find a bookwhich pleases or displeases all men. I acknowledge the age we live in isnot the least knowing, and therefore not the most easy to be satisfied. If I have not the good luck to please, yet nobody ought to be offendedwith me. I plainly tell all my readers, except half a dozen, thisTreatise was not at first intended for them; and therefore they need notbe at the trouble to be of that number. But yet if any one thinks fit tobe angry and rail at it, he may do it securely, for I shall find somebetter way of spending my time than in such kind of conversation. Ishall always have the satisfaction to have aimed sincerely at truthand usefulness, though in one of the meanest ways. The commonwealthof learning is not at this time without master-builders, whose mightydesigns, in advancing the sciences, will leave lasting monuments to theadmiration of posterity: but every one must not hope to be a Boyle ora Sydenham; and in an age that produces such masters as the greatHuygenius and the incomparable Mr. Newton, with some others of thatstrain, it is ambition enough to be employed as an under-labourer inclearing the ground a little, and removing some of the rubbish thatlies in the way to knowledge;--which certainly had been very much moreadvanced in the world, if the endeavours of ingenious and industriousmen had not been much cumbered with the learned but frivolous useof uncouth, affected, or unintelligible terms, introduced into thesciences, and there made an art of, to that degree that Philosophy, which is nothing but the true knowledge of things, was thought unfit orincapable to be brought into well-bred company and polite conversation. Vague and insignificant forms of speech, and abuse of language, have solong passed for mysteries of science; and hard and misapplied words, with little or no meaning, have, by prescription, such a right to bemistaken for deep learning and height of speculation, that it will notbe easy to persuade either those who speak or those who hear them, thatthey are but the covers of ignorance, and hindrance of true knowledge. To break in upon the sanctuary of vanity and ignorance will be, Isuppose, some service to human understanding; though so few are apt tothink they deceive or are deceived in the use of words; or that thelanguage of the sect they are of has any faults in it which ought to beexamined or corrected, that I hope I shall be pardoned if I have in theThird Book dwelt long on this subject, and endeavoured to make itso plain, that neither the inveterateness of the mischief, nor theprevalency of the fashion, shall be any excuse for those who will nottake care about the meaning of their own words, and will not suffer thesignificancy of their expressions to be inquired into. I have been told that a short Epitome of this Treatise, which wasprinted in 1688, was by some condemned without reading, because INNATEIDEAS were denied in it; they too hastily concluding, that if innateideas were not supposed, there would be little left either of the notionor proof of spirits. If any one take the like offence at the entrance ofthis Treatise, I shall desire him to read it through; and then I hope hewill be convinced, that the taking away false foundations is not to theprejudice but advantage of truth, which is never injured or endangeredso much as when mixed with, or built on, falsehood. In the SecondEdition I added as followeth:-- The bookseller will not forgive me if I say nothing of this New Edition, which he has promised, by the correctness of it, shall make amends forthe many faults committed in the former. He desires too, that it shouldbe known that it has one whole new chapter concerning Identity, and manyadditions and amendments in other places. These I must inform my readerare not all new matter, but most of them either further confirmation ofwhat I had said, or explications, to prevent others being mistaken inthe sense of what was formerly printed, and not any variation in me fromit. I must only except the alterations I have made in Book II. Chap. Xxi. What I had there written concerning Liberty and the Will, I thoughtdeserved as accurate a view as I am capable of; those subjects havingin all ages exercised the learned part of the world with questions anddifficulties, that have not a little perplexed morality and divinity, those parts of knowledge that men are most concerned to be clear in. Upon a closer inspection into the working of men's minds, and a stricterexamination of those motives and views they are turned by, I have foundreason somewhat to alter the thoughts I formerly had concerning thatwhich gives the last determination to the Will in all voluntary actions. This I cannot forbear to acknowledge to the world with as much freedomand readiness; as I at first published what then seemed to me to beright; thinking myself more concerned to quit and renounce any opinionof my own, than oppose that of another, when truth appears against it. For it is truth alone I seek, and that will always be welcome to me, when or from whencesoever it comes. But what forwardness soever I haveto resign any opinion I have, or to recede from anything I have writ, upon the first evidence of any error in it; yet this I must own, that Ihave not had the good luck to receive any light from those exceptionsI have met with in print against any part of my book, nor have, fromanything that has been urged against it, found reason to alter my sensein any of the points that have been questioned. Whether the subject Ihave in hand requires often more thought and attention than cursoryreaders, at least such as are prepossessed, are willing to allow; orwhether any obscurity in my expressions casts a cloud over it, andthese notions are made difficult to others' apprehensions in my way oftreating them; so it is, that my meaning, I find, is often mistaken, andI have not the good luck to be everywhere rightly understood. Of this the ingenious author of the Discourse Concerning the Nature ofMan has given me a late instance, to mention no other. For the civilityof his expressions, and the candour that belongs to his order, forbid meto think that he would have closed his Preface with an insinuation, asif in what I had said, Book II. Ch. Xxvii, concerning the third rulewhich men refer their actions to, I went about to make virtue vice andvice virtue, unless he had mistaken my meaning; which he could not havedone if he had given himself the trouble to consider what the argumentwas I was then upon, and what was the chief design of that chapter, plainly enough set down in the fourth section and those following. ForI was there not laying down moral rules, but showing the original andnature of moral ideas, and enumerating the rules men make use of inmoral relations, whether these rules were true or false: and pursuantthereto I tell what is everywhere called virtue and vice; which "altersnot the nature of things, " though men generally do judge of anddenominate their actions according to the esteem and fashion of theplace and sect they are of. If he had been at the pains to reflect on what I had said, Bk. I. Ch. Ii. Sect. 18, and Bk. II. Ch. Xxviii. Sect. 13, 14, 15 and 20, he wouldhave known what I think of the eternal and unalterable nature of rightand wrong, and what I call virtue and vice. And if he had observed thatin the place he quotes I only report as a matter of fact what OTHERScall virtue and vice, he would not have found it liable to any greatexception. For I think I am not much out in saying that one of the rulesmade use of in the world for a ground or measure of a moral relationis--that esteem and reputation which several sorts of actions findvariously in the several societies of men, according to which they arethere called virtues or vices. And whatever authority the learned Mr. Lowde places in his Old English Dictionary, I daresay it nowhere tellshim (if I should appeal to it) that the same action is not in credit, called and counted a virtue, in one place, which, being in disrepute, passes for and under the name of vice in another. The taking notice thatmen bestow the names of 'virtue' and 'vice' according to this rule ofReputation is all I have done, or can be laid to my charge to have done, towards the making vice virtue or virtue vice. But the good man doeswell, and as becomes his calling, to be watchful in such points, and totake the alarm even at expressions, which, standing alone by themselves, might sound ill and be suspected. 'Tis to this zeal, allowable in his function, that I forgive his citingas he does these words of mine (ch. Xxviii. Sect. II): "Even theexhortations of inspired teachers have not feared to appeal to commonrepute, Philip, iv. 8;" without taking notice of those immediatelypreceding, which introduce them, and run thus: "Whereby even in thecorruption of manners, the true boundaries of the law of nature, whichought to be the rule of virtue and vice, were pretty well preserved. Sothat even the exhortations of inspired teachers, " &c. By which words, and the rest of that section, it is plain that I brought that passageof St. Paul, not to prove that the general measure of what men calledvirtue and vice throughout the world was the reputation and fashion ofeach particular society within itself; but to show that, though it wereso, yet, for reasons I there give, men, in that way of denominatingtheir actions, did not for the most part much stray from the Law ofNature; which is that standing and unalterable rule by which they oughtto judge of the moral rectitude and gravity of their actions, andaccordingly denominate them virtues or vices. Had Mr. Lowde consideredthis, he would have found it little to his purpose to have quoted thispassage in a sense I used it not; and would I imagine have spared theapplication he subjoins to it, as not very necessary. But I hope thisSecond Edition will give him satisfaction on the point, and that thismatter is now so expressed as to show him there was no cause forscruple. Though I am forced to differ from him in these apprehensions he hasexpressed, in the latter end of his preface, concerning what I had saidabout virtue and vice, yet we are better agreed than he thinks in whathe says in his third chapter (p. 78) concerning "natural inscription andinnate notions. " I shall not deny him the privilege he claims (p. 52), to state the question as he pleases, especially when he states it so asto leave nothing in it contrary to what I have said. For, accordingto him, "innate notions, being conditional things, depending upon theconcurrence of several other circumstances in order to the soul'sexerting them, " all that he says for "innate, imprinted, impressednotions" (for of innate IDEAS he says nothing at all), amounts at lastonly to this--that there are certain propositions which, though thesoul from the beginning, or when a man is born, does not know, yet"by assistance from the outward senses, and the help of some previouscultivation, " it may AFTERWARDS come certainly to know the truth of;which is no more than what I have affirmed in my First Book. For Isuppose by the "soul's exerting them, " he means its beginning to knowthem; or else the soul's 'exerting of notions' will be to me a veryunintelligible expression; and I think at best is a very unfit onein this, it misleading men's thoughts by an insinuation, as if thesenotions were in the mind before the 'soul exerts them, ' i. E. Beforethey are known;--whereas truly before they are known, there is nothingof them in the mind but a capacity to know them, when the 'concurrenceof those circumstances, ' which this ingenious author thinks necessary'in order to the soul's exerting them, ' brings them into our knowledge. P. 52 I find him express it thus: 'These natural notions are not soimprinted upon the soul as that they naturally and necessarily exertthemselves (even in children and idiots) without any assistance from theoutward senses, or without the help of some previous cultivation. ' Here, he says, they 'exert themselves, ' as p. 78, that the 'soul exerts them. 'When he has explained to himself or others what he means by 'the soul'sexerting innate notions, ' or their 'exerting themselves;' and what that'previous cultivation and circumstances' in order to their being exertedare--he will I suppose find there is so little of controversy betweenhim and me on the point, bating that he calls that 'exerting of notions'which I in a more vulgar style call 'knowing, ' that I have reason tothink he brought in my name on this occasion only out of the pleasure hehas to speak civilly of me; which I must gratefully acknowledge he hasdone everywhere he mentions me, not without conferring on me, as someothers have done, a title I have no right to. There are so many instances of this, that I think it justice to myreader and myself to conclude, that either my book is plainly enoughwritten to be rightly understood by those who peruse it with thatattention and indifferency, which every one who will give himself thepains to read ought to employ in reading; or else that I have writtenmine so obscurely that it is in vain to go about to mend it. Whicheverof these be the truth, it is myself only am affected thereby; andtherefore I shall be far from troubling my reader with what I thinkmight be said in answer to those several objections I have met with, topassages here and there of my book; since I persuade myself that he whothinks them of moment enough to be concerned whether they are true orfalse, will be able to see that what is said is either not well founded, or else not contrary to my doctrine, when I and my opposer come both tobe well understood. If any other authors, careful that none of their good thoughts should belost, have published their censures of my Essay, with this honour doneto it, that they will not suffer it to be an essay, I leave it to thepublic to value the obligation they have to their critical pens, andshall not waste my reader's time in so idle or ill-natured an employmentof mine, as to lessen the satisfaction any one has in himself, or givesto others, in so hasty a confutation of what I have written. The booksellers preparing for the Fourth Edition of my Essay, gave menotice of it, that I might, if I had leisure, make any additions oralterations I should think fit. Whereupon I thought it convenient toadvertise the reader, that besides several corrections I had made hereand there, there was one alteration which it was necessary to mention, because it ran through the whole book, and is of consequence to berightly understood. What I thereupon said was this:-- CLEAR and DISTINCT ideas are terms which, though familiar and frequentin men's mouths, I have reason to think every one who uses does notperfectly understand. And possibly 'tis but here and there one who giveshimself the trouble to consider them so far as to know what he himselfor others precisely mean by them. I have therefore in most places choseto put DETERMINATE or DETERMINED, instead of CLEAR and DISTINCT, as morelikely to direct men's thoughts to my meaning in this matter. Bythose denominations, I mean some object in the mind, and consequentlydetermined, i. E. Such as it is there seen and perceived to be. This, Ithink, may fitly be called a determinate or determined idea, when suchas it is at any time objectively in the mind, and so determined there, it is annexed, and without variation determined, to a name or articulatesound, which is to be steadily the sign of that very same object of themind, or determinate idea. To explain this a little more particularly. By DETERMINATE, when appliedto a simple idea, I mean that simple appearance which the mind has inits view, or perceives in itself, when that idea is said to be in it:by DETERMINED, when applied to a complex idea, I mean such an one asconsists of a determinate number of certain simple or less complexideas, joined in such a proportion and situation as the mind has beforeits view, and sees in itself, when that idea is present in it, or shouldbe present in it, when a man gives a name to it. I say SHOULD be, because it is not every one, nor perhaps any one, who is so careful ofhis language as to use no word till he views in his mind the precisedetermined idea which he resolves to make it the sign of. The want ofthis is the cause of no small obscurity and confusion in men's thoughtsand discourses. I know there are not words enough in any language to answer all thevariety of ideas that enter into men's discourses and reasonings. Butthis hinders not but that when any one uses any term, he may have in hismind a determined idea, which he makes it the sign of, and to which heshould keep it steadily annexed during that present discourse. Where hedoes not, or cannot do this, he in vain pretends to clear or distinctideas: it is plain his are not so; and therefore there can be expectednothing but obscurity and confusion, where such terms are made use ofwhich have not such a precise determination. Upon this ground I have thought determined ideas a way of speaking lessliable to mistakes, than clear and distinct: and where men have got suchdetermined ideas of all that they reason, inquire, or argue about, theywill find a great part of their doubts and disputes at an end; thegreatest part of the questions and controversies that perplex mankinddepending on the doubtful and uncertain use of words, or (which is thesame) indetermined ideas, which they are made to stand for. I have madechoice of these terms to signify, (1) Some immediate object of the mind, which it perceives and has before it, distinct from the sound it uses asa sign of it. (2) That this idea, thus determined, i. E. Which the mindhas in itself, and knows, and sees there, be determined without anychange to that name, and that name determined to that precise idea. Ifmen had such determined ideas in their inquiries and discourses, theywould both discern how far their own inquiries and discourses went, andavoid the greatest part of the disputes and wranglings they have withothers. Besides this, the bookseller will think it necessary I should advertisethe reader that there is an addition of two chapters wholly new; the oneof the Association of Ideas, the other of Enthusiasm. These, with someother larger additions never before printed, he has engaged to print bythemselves, after the same manner, and for the same purpose, as was donewhen this Essay had the second impression. In the Sixth Edition there is very little added or altered. The greatestpart of what is new is contained in the twenty-first chapter of thesecond book, which any one, if he thinks it worth while, may, with avery little labour, transcribe into the margin of the former edition. ESSAY CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. INTRODUCTION. 1. An Inquiry into the Understanding pleasant and useful. Since it is the UNDERSTANDING that sets man above the rest of sensiblebeings, and gives him all the advantage and dominion which he has overthem; it is certainly a subject, even for its nobleness, worth ourlabour to inquire into. The understanding, like the eye, whilst it makesus see and perceive all other things, takes no notice of itself; and itrequires and art and pains to set it at a distance and make it its ownobject. But whatever be the difficulties that lie in the way of thisinquiry; whatever it be that keeps us so much in the dark to ourselves;sure I am that all the light we can let in upon our minds, all theacquaintance we can make with our own understandings, will not only bevery pleasant, but bring us great advantage, in directing our thoughtsin the search of other things. 2. Design. This, therefore, being my purpose--to inquire into the original, certainty, and extent of HUMAN KNOWLEDGE, together with the grounds anddegrees of BELIEF, OPINION, and ASSENT;--I shall not at present meddlewith the physical consideration of the mind; or trouble myself toexamine wherein its essence consists; or by what motions of our spiritsor alterations of our bodies we come to have any SENSATION by ourorgans, or any IDEAS in our understandings; and whether those ideas doin their formation, any or all of them, depend on matter or not. Theseare speculations which, however curious and entertaining, I shalldecline, as lying out of my way in the design I am now upon. It shallsuffice to my present purpose, to consider the discerning faculties of aman, as they are employed about the objects which they have to do with. And I shall imagine I have not wholly misemployed myself in the thoughtsI shall have on this occasion, if, in this historical, plain method, I can give any account of the ways whereby our understandings come toattain those notions of things we have; and can set down any measuresof the certainty of our knowledge; or the grounds of those persuasionswhich are to be found amongst men, so various, different, and whollycontradictory; and yet asserted somewhere or other with such assuranceand confidence, that he that shall take a view of the opinions ofmankind, observe their opposition, and at the same time consider thefondness and devotion wherewith they are embraced, the resolution andeagerness wherewith they are maintained, may perhaps have reason tosuspect, that either there is no such thing as truth at all, or thatmankind hath no sufficient means to attain a certain knowledge of it. 3. Method. It is therefore worth while to search out the bounds between opinion andknowledge; and examine by what measures, in things whereof we have nocertain knowledge, we ought to regulate our assent and moderate ourpersuasion. In order whereunto I shall pursue this following method:--First, I shall inquire into the original of those ideas, notions, orwhatever else you please to call them, which a man observes, and isconscious to himself he has in his mind; and the ways whereby theunderstanding comes to be furnished with them. Secondly, I shall endeavour to show what knowledge the understandinghath by those ideas; and the certainty, evidence, and extent of it. Thirdly, I shall make some inquiry into the nature and grounds of FAITHor OPINION: whereby I mean that assent which we give to any propositionas true, of whose truth yet we have no certain knowledge. And here weshall have occasion to examine the reasons and degrees of ASSENT. 4. Useful to know the Extent of our Comprehension. If by this inquiry into the nature of the understanding, I can discoverthe powers thereof; how far they reach; to what things they are in anydegree proportionate; and where they fail us, I suppose it may be of useto prevail with the busy mind of man to be more cautious in meddlingwith things exceeding its comprehension; to stop when it is at theutmost extent of its tether; and to sit down in a quiet ignorance ofthose things which, upon examination, are found to be beyond the reachof our capacities. We should not then perhaps be so forward, out of anaffectation of an universal knowledge, to raise questions, andperplex ourselves and others with disputes about things to which ourunderstandings are not suited; and of which we cannot frame in our mindsany clear or distinct perceptions, or whereof (as it has perhaps toooften happened) we have not any notions at all. If we can find out howfar the understanding can extend its view; how far it has faculties toattain certainty; and in what cases it can only judge and guess, we maylearn to content ourselves with what is attainable by us in this state. 5. Our Capacity suited to our State and Concerns. For though the comprehension of our understandings comes exceeding shortof the vast extent of things, yet we shall have cause enough to magnifythe bountiful Author of our being, for that proportion and degree ofknowledge he has bestowed on us, so far above all the rest of theinhabitants of this our mansion. Men have reason to be well satisfiedwith what God hath thought fit for them, since he hath given them (asSt. Peter says) [words in Greek], whatsoever is necessary for theconveniences of life and information of virtue; and has put within thereach of their discovery, the comfortable provision for this life, andthe way that leads to a better. How short soever their knowledge maycome of an universal or perfect comprehension of whatsoever is, it yetsecures their great concernments, that they have light enough to leadthem to the knowledge of their Maker, and the sight of their own duties. Men may find matter sufficient to busy their heads, and employ theirhands with variety, delight, and satisfaction, if they will not boldlyquarrel with their own constitution, and throw away the blessingstheir hands are filled with, because they are not big enough to graspeverything. We shall not have much reason to complain of the narrownessof our minds, if we will but employ them about what may be of use to us;for of that they are very capable. And it will be an unpardonable, aswell as childish peevishness, if we undervalue the advantages of ourknowledge, and neglect to improve it to the ends for which it was givenus, because there are some things that are set out of the reach of it. It will be no excuse to an idle and untoward servant, who would notattend his business by candle light, to plead that he had not broadsunshine. The Candle that is set up in us shines bright enough for allour purposes. The discoveries we can make with this ought to satisfy us;and we shall then use our understandings right, when we entertainall objects in that way and proportion that they are suited to ourfaculties, and upon those grounds they are capable of being proposed tous; and not peremptorily or intemperately require demonstration, anddemand certainty, where probability only is to be had, and which issufficient to govern all our concernments. If we will disbelieveeverything, because we cannot certainly know all things, we shall domuch what as wisely as he who would not use his legs, but sit still andperish, because he had no wings to fly. 6. Knowledge of our Capacity a Cure of Scepticism and Idleness. When we know our own strength, we shall the better know what toundertake with hopes of success; and when we have well surveyed thePOWERS of our own minds, and made some estimate what we may expect fromthem, we shall not be inclined either to sit still, and not set ourthoughts on work at all, in despair of knowing anything; nor on theother side, question everything, and disclaim all knowledge, becausesome things are not to be understood. It is of great use to the sailorto know the length of his line, though he cannot with it fathom all thedepths of the ocean. It is well he knows that it is long enough to reachthe bottom, at such places as are necessary to direct his voyage, andcaution him against running upon shoals that may ruin him. Our businesshere is not to know all things, but those which concern our conduct. Ifwe can find out those measures, whereby a rational creature, put inthat state in which man is in this world, may and ought to govern hisopinions, and actions depending thereon, we need not to be troubled thatsome other things escape our knowledge. 7. Occasion of this Essay. This was that which gave the first rise to this Essay concerning theunderstanding. For I thought that the first step towards satisfyingseveral inquiries the mind of man was very apt to run into, was, to takea survey of our own understandings, examine our own powers, and see towhat things they were adapted. Till that was done I suspected we beganat the wrong end, and in vain sought for satisfaction in a quiet andsure possession of truths that most concerned us, whilst we let looseour thoughts into the vast ocean of Being; as if all that boundlessextent were the natural and undoubted possession of our understandings, wherein there was nothing exempt from its decisions, or that escapedits comprehension. Thus men, extending their inquiries beyond theircapacities, and letting their thoughts wander into those depths wherethey can find no sure footing, it is no wonder that they raise questionsand multiply disputes, which, never coming to any clear resolution, areproper only to continue and increase their doubts, and to confirm themat last in perfect scepticism. Whereas, were the capacities of ourunderstandings well considered, the extent of our knowledge oncediscovered, and the horizon found which sets the bounds between theenlightened and dark parts of things; between what is and what is notcomprehensible by us, men would perhaps with less scruple acquiesce inthe avowed ignorance of the one, and employ their thoughts and discoursewith more advantage and satisfaction in the other. 8. What Idea stands for. Thus much I thought necessary to say concerning the occasion of thisinquiry into human Understanding. But, before I proceed on to what Ihave thought on this subject, I must here in the entrance beg pardon ofmy reader for the frequent use of the word IDEA, which he will find inthe following treatise. It being that term which, I think, serves bestto stand for whatsoever is the OBJECT of the understanding when a manthinks, I have used it to express whatever is meant by PHANTASM, NOTION, SPECIES, or WHATEVER IT IS WHICH THE MIND CAN BE EMPLOYED ABOUT INTHINKING; and I could not avoid frequently using it. I presume it willbe easily granted me, that there are such IDEAS in men's minds: everyone is conscious of them in himself; and men's words and actions willsatisfy him that they are in others. Our first inquiry then shall be, --how they come into the mind. BOOK I NEITHER PRINCIPLES NOR IDEAS ARE INNATE CHAPTER I. NO INNATE SPECULATIVE PRINCIPLES. 1. The way shown how we come by any Knowledge, sufficient to prove itnot innate. It is an established opinion amongst some men, that there are in theunderstanding certain INNATE PRINCIPLES; some primary notions, KOIVAIEVVOIAI, characters, as it were stamped upon the mind of man; which thesoul receives in its very first being, and brings into the world withit. It would be sufficient to convince unprejudiced readers of thefalseness of this supposition, if I should only show (as I hope I shallin the following parts of this Discourse) how men, barely by the useof their natural faculties may attain to all the knowledge they have, without the help of any innate impressions; and may arrive at certainty, without any such original notions or principles. For I imagine any onewill easily grant that it would be impertinent to suppose the ideas ofcolours innate in a creature to whom God hath given sight, and apower to receive them by the eyes from external objects: and no lessunreasonable would it be to attribute several truths to the impressionsof nature, and innate characters, when we may observe in ourselvesfaculties fit to attain as easy and certain knowledge of them as if theywere originally imprinted on the mind. But because a man is not permitted without censure to follow his ownthoughts in the search of truth, when they lead him ever so little outof the common road, I shall set down the reasons that made me doubt ofthe truth of that opinion, as an excuse for my mistake, if I be in one;which I leave to be considered by those who, with me, dispose themselvesto embrace truth wherever they find it. 2. General Assent the great Argument. There is nothing more commonly taken for granted than that there arecertain PRINCIPLES, both SPECULATIVE and PRACTICAL, (for they speak ofboth), universally agreed upon by all mankind: which therefore, theyargue, must needs be the constant impressions which the souls of menreceive in their first beings, and which they bring into the worldwith them, as necessarily and really as they do any of their inherentfaculties. 3. Universal Consent proves nothing innate. This argument, drawn from universal consent, has this misfortune in it, that if it were true in matter of fact, that there were certain truthswherein all mankind agreed, it would not prove them innate, if there canbe any other way shown how men may come to that universal agreement, inthe things they do consent in, which I presume may be done. 4. "What is is, " and "It is possible for the same Thing to be and not tobe, " not universally assented to. But, which is worse, this argument of universal consent, which is madeuse of to prove innate principles, seems to me a demonstration thatthere are none such: because there are none to which all mankind give anuniversal assent. I shall begin with the speculative, and instance inthose magnified principles of demonstration, "Whatsoever is, is, " and"It is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be"; which, of allothers, I think have the most allowed title to innate. These have sosettled a reputation of maxims universally received, that it will nodoubt be thought strange if any one should seem to question it. But yetI take liberty to say, that these propositions are so far from having anuniversal assent, that there are a great part of mankind to whom theyare not so much as known. 5. Not on Mind naturally imprinted, because not known to Children, Idiots, &c. For, first, it is evident, that all children and idiots have not theleast apprehension or thought of them. And the want of that is enoughto destroy that universal assent which must needs be the necessaryconcomitant of all innate truths: it seeming to me near a contradictionto say, that there are truths imprinted on the soul, which it perceivesor understands not: imprinting, if it signify anything, being nothingelse but the making certain truths to be perceived. For to imprintanything on the mind without the mind's perceiving it, seems to mehardly intelligible. If therefore children and idiots have souls, haveminds, with those impressions upon them, THEY must unavoidably perceivethem, and necessarily know and assent to these truths; which since theydo not, it is evident that there are no such impressions. For if theyare not notions naturally imprinted, how can they be innate? and ifthey are notions imprinted, how can they be unknown? To say a notion isimprinted on the mind, and yet at the same time to say, that the mindis ignorant of it, and never yet took notice of it, is to make thisimpression nothing. No proposition can be said to be in the mind whichit never yet knew, which it was never yet conscious of. For if any onemay, then, by the same reason, all propositions that are true, and themind is capable ever of assenting to, may be said to be in the mind, andto be imprinted: since, if any one can be said to be in the mind, whichit never yet knew, it must be only because it is capable of knowing it;and so the mind is of all truths it ever shall know. Nay, thus truthsmay be imprinted on the mind which it never did, nor ever shall know;for a man may live long, and die at last in ignorance of many truthswhich his mind was capable of knowing, and that with certainty. So thatif the capacity of knowing be the natural impression contended for, allthe truths a man ever comes to know will, by this account, be every oneof them innate; and this great point will amount to no more, but only toa very improper way of speaking; which, whilst it pretends to assert thecontrary, says nothing different from those who deny innate principles. For nobody, I think, ever denied that the mind was capable of knowingseveral truths. The capacity, they say, is innate; the knowledgeacquired. But then to what end such contest for certain innate maxims?If truths can be imprinted on the understanding without being perceived, I can see no difference there can be between any truths the mind isCAPABLE of knowing in respect of their original: they must all be innateor all adventitious: in vain shall a man go about to distinguish them. He therefore that talks of innate notions in the understanding, cannot(if he intend thereby any distinct sort of truths) mean such truthsto be in the understanding as it never perceived, and is yet whollyignorant of. For if these words "to be in the understanding" haveany propriety, they signify to be understood. So that to be in theunderstanding, and not to be understood; to be in the mind and never tobe perceived, is all one as to say anything is and is not in the mind orunderstanding. If therefore these two propositions, "Whatsoever is, is, "and "It is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be, " are bynature imprinted, children cannot be ignorant of them: infants, and allthat have souls, must necessarily have them in their understandings, know the truth of them, and assent to it. 6. That men know them when they come to the Use of Reason answered. To avoid this, it is usually answered, that all men know and assent tothem, WHEN THEY COME TO THE USE OF REASON; and this is enough to provethem innate. I answer: 7. Doubtful expressions, that have scarce any signification, go forclear reasons to those who, being prepossessed, take not the pains toexamine even what they themselves say. For, to apply this answer withany tolerable sense to our present purpose, it must signify one of thesetwo things: either that as soon as men come to the use of reason thesesupposed native inscriptions come to be known and observed by them; orelse, that the use and exercise of men's reason, assists them in thediscovery of these principles, and certainly makes them known to them. 8. If Reason discovered them, that would not prove them innate. If they mean, that by the use of reason men may discover theseprinciples, and that this is sufficient to prove them innate; theirway of arguing will stand thus, viz. That whatever truths reason cancertainly discover to us, and make us firmly assent to, those are allnaturally imprinted on the mind; since that universal assent, which ismade the mark of them, amounts to no more but this, --that by the use ofreason we are capable to come to a certain knowledge of and assent tothem; and, by this means, there will be no difference between the maximsof the mathematicians, and theorems they deduce from them: all must beequally allowed innate; they being all discoveries made by the use ofreason, and truths that a rational creature may certainly come to know, if he apply his thoughts rightly that way. 9. It is false that Reason discovers them. But how can these men think the use of reason necessary to discoverprinciples that are supposed innate, when reason (if we may believethem) is nothing else but the faculty of deducing unknown truths fromprinciples or propositions that are already known? That certainly cannever be thought innate which we have need of reason to discover;unless, as I have said, we will have all the certain truths that reasonever teaches us, to be innate. We may as well think the use of reasonnecessary to make our eyes discover visible objects, as that thereshould be need of reason, or the exercise thereof, to make theunderstanding see what is originally engraven on it, and cannot be inthe understanding before it be perceived by it. So that to make reasondiscover those truths thus imprinted, is to say, that the use of reasondiscovers to a man what he knew before: and if men have those innateimpressed truths originally, and before the use of reason, and yet arealways ignorant of them till they come to the use of reason, it is ineffect to say, that men know and know them not at the same time. 10. No use made of reasoning in the discovery of these two maxims. It will here perhaps be said that mathematical demonstrations, and othertruths that are not innate, are not assented to as soon as proposed, wherein they are distinguished from these maxims and other innatetruths. I shall have occasion to speak of assent upon the firstproposing, more particularly by and by. I shall here only, and that veryreadily, allow, that these maxims and mathematical demonstrations are inthis different: that the one have need of reason, using of proofs, to make them out and to gain our assent; but the other, as soon asunderstood, are, without any the least reasoning, embraced and assentedto. But I withal beg leave to observe, that it lays open the weakness ofthis subterfuge, which requires the use of reason for the discovery ofthese general truths: since it must be confessed that in their discoverythere is no use made of reasoning at all. And I think those who givethis answer will not be forward to affirm that the knowledge of thismaxim, "That it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be, "is a deduction of our reason. For this would be to destroy that bountyof nature they seem so fond of, whilst they make the knowledge of thoseprinciples to depend on the labour of our thoughts. For all reasoning issearch, and casting about, and requires pains and application. And howcan it with any tolerable sense be supposed, that what was imprinted bynature, as the foundation and guide of our reason, should need the useof reason to discover it? 11. And if there were this would prove them not innate. Those who will take the pains to reflect with a little attention on theoperations of the understanding, will find that this ready assent of themind to some truths, depends not, either on native inscription, or theuse of reason, but on a faculty of the mind quite distinct from both ofthem, as we shall see hereafter. Reason, therefore, having nothing to doin procuring our assent to these maxims, if by saying, that "men knowand assent to them, when they come to the use of reason, " be meant, thatthe use of reason assists us in the knowledge of these maxims, it isutterly false; and were it true, would prove them not to be innate. 12. The coming of the Use of Reason not the Time we come to know theseMaxims. If by knowing and assenting to them "when we come to the use of reason, "be meant, that this is the time when they come to be taken notice of bythe mind; and that as soon as children come to the use of reason, theycome also to know and assent to these maxims; this also is false andfrivolous. First, it is false; because it is evident these maxims arenot in the mind so early as the use of reason; and therefore the comingto the use of reason is falsely assigned as the time of their discovery. How many instances of the use of reason may we observe in children, along time before they have any knowledge of this maxim, "That it isimpossible for the same thing to be and not to be?" And a great part ofilliterate people and savages pass many years, even of their rationalage, without ever thinking on this and the like general propositions. Igrant, men come not to the knowledge of these general and more abstracttruths, which are thought innate, till they come to the use of reason;and I add, nor then neither. Which is so, because, till after they cometo the use of reason, those general abstract ideas are not framed inthe mind, about which those general maxims are, which are mistakenfor innate principles, but are indeed discoveries made and veritiesintroduced and brought into the mind by the same way, and discovered bythe same steps, as several other propositions, which nobody was everso extravagant as to suppose innate. This I hope to make plain in thesequel of this Discourse. I allow therefore, a necessity that men shouldcome to the use of reason before they get the knowledge of those generaltruths; but deny that men's coming to the use of reason is the time oftheir discovery. 13. By this they are not distinguished from other knowable Truths. In the mean time it is observable, that this saying that men know andassent to these maxims "when they come to the use of reason, " amountsin reality of fact to no more but this, --that they are never known nortaken notice of before the use of reason, but may possibly be assentedto some time after, during a man's life; but when is uncertain. And somay all other knowable truths, as well as these which therefore have noadvantage nor distinction from other by this note of being known whenwe come to the use of reason; nor are thereby proved to be innate, butquite the contrary. 14. If coming to the Use of Reason were the Time of their Discovery, itwould not prove them innate. But, secondly, were it true that the precise time of their being knownand assented to were, when men come to the use of reason; neither wouldthat prove them innate. This way of arguing is as frivolous as thesupposition itself is false. For, by what kind of logic will it appearthat any notion is originally by nature imprinted in the mind in itsfirst constitution, because it comes first to be observed and assentedto when a faculty of the mind, which has quite a distinct province, begins to exert itself? And therefore the coming to the use of speech, if it were supposed the time that these maxims are first assented to, (which it may be with as much truth as the time when men come to the useof reason, ) would be as good a proof that they were innate, as to saythey are innate because men assent to them when they come to the use ofreason. I agree then with these men of innate principles, that there isno knowledge of these general and self-evident maxims in the mind, tillit comes to the exercise of reason: but I deny that the coming to theuse of reason is the precise time when they are first taken notice of;and if that were the precise time, I deny that it would prove theminnate. All that can with any truth be meant by this proposition, thatmen 'assent to them when they come to the use of reason, ' is no more butthis, --that the making of general abstract ideas, and the understandingof general names, being a concomitant of the rational faculty, andgrowing up with it, children commonly get not those general ideas, norlearn the names that stand for them, till, having for a good whileexercised their reason about familiar and more particular ideas, theyare, by their ordinary discourse and actions with others, acknowledgedto be capable of rational conversation. If assenting to these maxims, when men come to the use of reason, can be true in any other sense, Idesire it may be shown; or at least, how in this, or any other sense, it proves them innate. 15. The Steps by which the Mind attains several Truths. The senses at first let in PARTICULAR ideas, and furnish the yet emptycabinet, and the mind by degrees growing familiar with some of them, they are lodged in the memory, and names got to them. Afterwards, themind proceeding further, abstracts them, and by degrees learns the useof general names. In this manner the mind comes to be furnished withideas and language, the MATERIALS about which to exercise its discursivefaculty. And the use of reason becomes daily more visible, as thesematerials that give it employment increase. But though the having ofgeneral ideas and the use of general words and reason usually growtogether, yet I see not how this any way proves them innate. Theknowledge of some truths, I confess, is very early in the mind; but in away that shows them not to be innate. For, if we will observe, we shallfind it still to be about ideas, not innate, but acquired; it beingabout those first which are imprinted by external things, with whichinfants have earliest to do, which make the most frequent impressions ontheir senses. In ideas thus got, the mind discovers that some agree andothers differ, probably as soon as it has any use of memory; as soon asit is able to retain and perceive distinct ideas. But whether it be thenor no, this is certain, it does so long before it has the use of words;or comes to that which we commonly call "the use of reason. " For a childknows as certainly before it can speak the difference between theideas of sweet and bitter (i. E. That sweet is not bitter), as it knowsafterwards (when it comes to speak) that wormwood and sugarplums are notthe same thing. 16. Assent to supposed innate truths depends on having clear anddistinct ideas of what their terms mean, and not on their innateness. A child knows not that three and four are equal to seven, till he comesto be able to count seven, and has got the name and idea of equality;and then, upon explaining those words, he presently assents to, orrather perceives the truth of that proposition. But neither does he thenreadily assent because it is an innate truth, nor was his assent wantingtill then because he wanted the use of reason; but the truth of itappears to him as soon as he has settled in his mind the clear anddistinct ideas that these names stand for. And then he knows the truthof that proposition upon the same ground and by the same means, that heknew before that a rod and a cherry are not the same thing; and uponthe same ground also that he may come to know afterwards "That it isimpossible for the same thing to be and not to be, " as shall be morefully shown hereafter. So that the later it is before any one comes tohave those general ideas about which those maxims are; or to know thesignification of those generic terms that stand for them; or to puttogether in his mind the ideas they stand for; the later also will it bebefore he comes to assent to those maxims;--whose terms, with the ideasthey stand for, being no more innate than those of a cat or a weasel hemust stay till time and observation have acquainted him with them; andthen he will be in a capacity to know the truth of these maxims, uponthe first occasion that shall make him put together those ideas inhis mind, and observe whether they agree or disagree, according as isexpressed in those propositions. And therefore it is that a man knowsthat eighteen and nineteen are equal to thirty-seven, by the sameself-evidence that he knows one and two to be equal to three: yet achild knows this not so soon as the other; not for want of the use ofreason, but because the ideas the words eighteen nineteen, andthirty-seven stand for, are not so soon got, as those which aresignified by one, two, and three. 17. Assenting as soon as proposed and understood, proves them notinnate. This evasion therefore of general assent when men come to the use ofreason, failing as it does, and leaving no difference between thosesupposed innate and other truths that are afterwards acquired andlearnt, men have endeavoured to secure an universal assent to thosethey call maxims, by saying, they are generally assented to as soon asproposed, and the terms they are proposed in understood: seeing all men, even children, as soon as they hear and understand the terms, assent tothese propositions, they think it is sufficient to prove them innate. For, since men never fail after they have once understood the words, toacknowledge them for undoubted truths, they would infer, that certainlythese propositions were first lodged in the understanding, which, without any teaching, the mind, at the very first proposal immediatelycloses with and assents to, and after that never doubts again. 18. If such an Assent be a Mark of Innate, then "that one and two areequal to three, that Sweetness if not Bitterness, " and a thousand thelike, must be inate. In answer to this, I demand whether ready assent given to a proposition, upon first hearing and understanding the terms, be a certain mark of aninnate principle? If it be not, such a general assent is in vain urgedas a proof of them: if it be said that it is a mark of innate, theymust then allow all such propositions to be innate which are generallyassented to as soon as heard, whereby they will find themselvesplentifully stored with innate principles. For upon the same ground, viz. Of assent at first hearing and understanding the terms, that menwould have those maxims pass for innate, they must also admit severalpropositions about numbers to be innate; and thus, that one and two areequal to three, that two and two are equal to four, and a multitude ofother the like propositions in numbers, that everybody assents to atfirst hearing and understanding the terms, must have a place amongstthese innate axioms. Nor is this the prerogative of numbers alone, andpropositions made about several of them; but even natural philosophy, and all the other sciences, afford propositions which are sure to meetwith assent as soon as they are understood. That "two bodies cannot bein the same place" is a truth that nobody any more sticks at than atthese maxims, that "it is impossible for the same thing to be and not tobe, " that "white is not black, " that "a square is not a circle, " that"bitterness is not sweetness. " These and a million of such otherpropositions, as many at least as we have distinct, ideas of, every manin his wits, at first hearing, and knowing, what the names stand for, must necessarily assent to. If these men will be true to their own rule, and have assent at first hearing and understanding the terms to be amark of innate, they must allow not only as many innate propositionas men have distinct ideas, but as many as men can make propositionswherein different ideas are denied one of another. Since everyproposition wherein one different idea is denied of another, will ascertainly find assent at first hearing and understanding the terms asthis general one, "It is impossible for the same thing to be and not tobe, " or that which is the foundation of it and is the easier understoodof the two, "The same is not different"; by which account they will havelegions of innate propositions of this one sort, without mentioning anyother But, since no proposition can be innate unless the _ideas_ aboutwhich it is be innate, this will be to suppose all our ideas of colours, sounds, tastes, figure, &c. , innate, than which there cannot be anythingmore opposite to reason and experience. Universal and ready assentupon hearing and understanding the terms is, I grant, a mark ofself-evidence; but self-evidence, depending not on innate impressions, but on something else, (as we shall show hereafter, ) belongs to severalpropositions which nobody was yet so extravagant as to pretend to beinnate. 19. Such less general Propositions known before these universal Maxims. Nor let it be said, that those more particular self-evidentpropositions, which are assented to at first hearing, as that "one andtwo are equal to three, " that "green is not red, " &c. , are received asthe consequences of those more universal propositions which are lookedon as innate principles; since any one, who will but take the painsto observe what passes in the understanding, will certainly find thatthese, and the like less general propositions, are certainly known, and firmly assented to by those who are utterly ignorant of those moregeneral maxims; and so, being earlier in the mind than those (as theyare called) first principles, cannot owe to them the assent wherewiththey are received at first hearing. 20. One and one equal to Two, &c. , not general nor useful answered. If it be said, that these propositions, viz. "two and two are equal tofour, " "red is not blue, " &c. , are not general maxims nor of any greatuse, I answer, that makes nothing to the argument of universal assentupon hearing and understanding. For, if that be the certain mark ofinnate, whatever propositions can be found that receives general assentas soon as heard understood, that must be admitted for an innateproposition as well as this maxim, "That it is impossible for the samething to be and not to be, " they being upon this ground equal. And as tothe difference of being more general, that makes this maxim more remotefrom being innate; those general and abstract ideas being more strangersto our first apprehensions than those of more particular self-evidentpropositions; and therefore it is longer before they are admitted, andassented to by the growing understanding. And as to the usefulness ofthese magnified maxims, that perhaps will not be found so great as isgenerally conceived, when it comes in its due place to be more fullyconsidered. 21. These Maxims not being known sometimes till proposed, proves themnot innate. But we have not yet done with "assenting to propositions at firsthearing and understanding their terms. " It is fit we first take noticethat this, instead of being a mark that they are innate, is a proof ofthe contrary; since it supposes that several, who understand and knowother things, are ignorant of these principles till they are proposedto them; and that one may be unacquainted with these truths till hehears them from others. For, if they were innate, what need theybe proposed in order to gaining assent, when, by being in theunderstanding, by a natural and original impression, (if there were anysuch, ) they could not but be known before? Or doth the proposingthem print them clearer in the mind than nature did? If so, then theconsequence will be, that a man knows them better after he has beenthus taught them than he did before. Whence it will follow that theseprinciples may be made more evident to us by others' teaching thannature has made them by impression: which will ill agree with theopinion of innate principles, and give but little authority to them;but, on the contrary, makes them unfit to be the foundations of all ourother knowledge; as they are pretended to be. This cannot be denied, that men grow first acquainted with many of these self-evident truthsupon their being proposed: but it is clear that whosoever does so, findsin himself that he then begins to know a proposition, which he knew notbefore, and which from thenceforth he never questions; not because itwas innate, but because the consideration of the nature of the thingscontained in those words would not suffer him to think otherwise, how, or whensoever he is brought to reflect on them. And if whatever isassented to at first hearing and understanding the terms must passfor an innate principle, every well-grounded observation, drawn fromparticulars into a general rule, must be innate. When yet it is certainthat not all, but only sagacious heads, light at first on theseobservations, and reduce them into general propositions: not innate butcollected from a preceding acquaintance and reflection on particularinstances. These, when observing men have made them, unobserving men, when they are proposed to them cannot refuse their assent to. 22. Implicitly known before proposing, signifies that the Mind iscapable of understanding them, or else signifies nothing. If it be said, the understanding hath an IMPLICIT knowledge of theseprinciples, but not an EXPLICIT, before this first hearing (as theymust who will say "that they are in the understanding before they areknown, ") it will be hard to conceive what is meant by a principleimprinted on the understanding implicitly, unless it be this, --thatthe mind is capable of understanding and assenting firmly to suchpropositions. And thus all mathematical demonstrations, as well as firstprinciples, must be received as native impressions on the mind; whichI fear they will scarce allow them to be, who find it harder todemonstrate a proposition than assent to it when demonstrated. And fewmathematicians will be forward to believe, that all the diagrams theyhave drawn were but copies of those innate characters which nature hadengraven upon their minds. 23. The Argument of assenting on first hearing, is upon a falsesupposition of no precedent teaching. There is, I fear, this further weakness in the foregoing argument, whichwould persuade us that therefore those maxims are to be thought innate, which men admit at first hearing; because they assent to propositionswhich they are not taught, nor do receive from the force of any argumentor demonstration, but a bare explication or understanding of the terms. Under which there seems to me to lie this fallacy, that men are supposednot to be taught nor to learn anything DE NOVO; when, in truth, they aretaught, and do learn something they were ignorant of before. For, first, it is evident that they have learned the terms, and their signification;neither of which was born with them. But this is not all the acquiredknowledge in the case: the ideas themselves, about which the propositionis, are not born with them, no more than their names, but gotafterwards. So that in all propositions that are assented to at firsthearing, the terms of the proposition, their standing for such ideas, and the ideas themselves that they stand for, being neither of theminnate, I would fain know what there is remaining in such propositionsthat is innate. For I would gladly have any one name that propositionwhose terms or ideas were either of them innate. We BY DEGREES get ideasand names, and LEARN their appropriated connexion one with another; andthen to propositions made in such, terms, whose signification we havelearnt, and wherein the agreement or disagreement we can perceive in ourideas when put together is expressed, we at first hearing assent; thoughto other propositions, in themselves as certain and evident, but whichare concerning ideas not so soon or so easily got, we are at the sametime no way capable of assenting. For, though a child quickly assentsto this proposition, "That an apple is not fire, " when by familiaracquaintance he has got the ideas of those two different thingsdistinctly imprinted on his mind, and has learnt that the names appleand fire stand for them; yet it will be some years after, perhaps, before the same child will assent to this proposition, "That it isimpossible for the same thing to be and not to be"; because that, thoughperhaps the words are as easy to be learnt, yet the signification ofthem being more large, comprehensive, and abstract than of the namesannexed to those sensible things the child hath to do with, it is longerbefore he learns their precise meaning, and it requires more timeplainly to form in his mind those general ideas they stand for. Tillthat be done, you will in vain endeavour to make any child assent to aproposition made up of such general terms; but as soon as ever he hasgot those ideas, and learned their names, he forwardly closes with theone as well as the other of the forementioned propositions: and withboth for the same reason; viz. Because he finds the ideas he has in hismind to agree or disagree, according as the words standing for themare affirmed or denied one of another in the proposition. But ifpropositions be brought to him in words which stand for ideas he has notyet in his mind, to such propositions, however evidently true or falsein themselves, he affords neither assent nor dissent, but is ignorant. For words being but empty sounds, any further than they are signs of ourideas, we cannot but assent to them as they correspond to those ideas wehave, but no further than that. But the showing by what steps and waysknowledge comes into our minds; and the grounds of several degrees ofassent, being; the business of the following Discourse, it may sufficeto have only touched on it here, as one reason that made me doubt ofthose innate principles. 24. Not innate because not universally assented to. To conclude this argument of universal consent, I agree with thesedefenders of innate principles, --that if they are innate, they mustneeds have universal assent. For that a truth should be innate and yetnot assented to, is to me as unintelligible as for a man to know a truthand be ignorant of it at the same time. But then, by these men's ownconfession, they cannot be innate; since they are not assented to bythose who understand not the terms; nor by a great part of those whodo understand them, but have yet never heard nor thought of thosepropositions; which, I think, is at least one half of mankind. But werethe number far less, it would be enough to destroy universal assent, andthereby show these propositions not to be innate, if children alone wereignorant of them. 25. These Maxims not the first known. But that I may not be accused to argue from the thoughts of infants, which are unknown to us, and to conclude from what passes in theirunderstandings before they express it; I say next, that these twogeneral propositions are not the truths that first possess the minds ofchildren, nor are antecedent to all acquired and adventitious notions:which, if they were innate, they must needs be. Whether we can determineit or no, it matters not, there is certainly a time when children beginto think, and their words and actions do assure us that they do so. Whentherefore they are capable of thought, of knowledge, of assent, can itrationally be supposed they can be ignorant of those notions thatnature has imprinted, were there any such? Can it be imagined, with anyappearance of reason, that they perceive the impressions from thingswithout, and be at the same time ignorant of those characters whichnature itself has taken care to stamp within? Can they receive andassent to adventitious notions, and be ignorant of those which aresupposed woven into the very principles of their being, and imprintedthere in indelible characters, to be the foundation and guide of alltheir acquired knowledge and future reasonings? This would be to makenature take pains to no purpose; or at least to write very ill; sinceits characters could not be read by those eyes which saw other thingsvery well: and those are very ill supposed the clearest parts of truth, and the foundations of all our knowledge, which are not first known, andwithout which the undoubted knowledge of several other things may behad. The child certainly knows, that the nurse that feeds it is neitherthe cat it plays with, nor the blackmoor it is afraid of: that thewormseed or mustard it refuses, is not the apple or sugar it cries for:this it is certainly and undoubtedly assured of: but will any one say, it is by virtue of this principle, "That it is impossible for the samething to be and not to be, " that it so firmly assents to these and otherparts of its knowledge? Or that the child has any notion or apprehensionof that proposition at an age, wherein yet, it is plain, it knows agreat many other truths? He that will say, children join in thesegeneral abstract speculations with their sucking-bottles and theirrattles, may perhaps, with justice, be thought to have more passion andzeal for his opinion, but less sincerity and truth, than one of thatage. 26. And so not innate. Though therefore there be several general propositions that meet withconstant and ready assent, as soon as proposed to men grown up, who haveattained the use of more general and abstract ideas, and names standingfor them; yet they not being to be found in those of tender years, whonevertheless know other things, they cannot pretend to universal assentof intelligent persons, and so by no means can be supposed innate;--itbeing impossible that any truth which is innate (if there were any such)should be unknown, at least to any one who knows anything else. Since, if they are innate truths, they must be innate thoughts: there beingnothing a truth in the mind that it has never thought on. Whereby it isevident, if there be any innate truths, they must necessarily be thefirst of any thought on; the first that appear. 27. Not innate, because they appear least, where what is innate showsitself clearest. That the general maxims we are discoursing of are not known to children, idiots, and a great part of mankind, we have already sufficientlyproved: whereby it is evident they have not an universal assent, nor aregeneral impressions. But there is this further argument in it againsttheir being innate: that these characters, if they were native andoriginal impressions, should appear fairest and clearest in thosepersons in whom yet we find no footsteps of them; and it is, in myopinion, a strong presumption that they are not innate, since they areleast known to those in whom, if they were innate, they must needs exertthemselves with most force and vigour. For children, idiots, savages, and illiterate people, being of all others the least corrupted bycustom, or borrowed opinions; learning and education having not casttheir native thoughts into new moulds; nor by superinducing foreign andstudied doctrines, confounded those fair characters nature had writtenthere; one might reasonably imagine that in THEIR minds these innatenotions should lie open fairly to every one's view, as it is certainthe thoughts of children do. It might very well be expected that theseprinciples should be perfectly known to naturals; which being stampedimmediately on the soul, (as these men suppose, ) can have no dependenceon the constitution or organs of the body, the only confessed differencebetween them and others. One would think, according to these men'sprinciples, that all these native beams of light (were there any such)should, in those who have no reserves, no arts of concealment, shineout in their full lustre, and leave us in no more doubt of their beingthere, than we are of their love of pleasure and abhorrence of pain. Butalas, amongst children, idiots, savages, and the grossly illiterate, what general maxims are to be found? what universal principles ofknowledge? Their notions are few and narrow, borrowed only from thoseobjects they have had most to do with, and which have made upon theirsenses the frequentest and strongest impressions. A child knows hisnurse and his cradle, and by degrees the playthings of a little moreadvanced age; and a young savage has, perhaps, his head filled with loveand hunting, according to the fashion of his tribe. But he that from achild untaught, or a wild inhabitant of the woods, will expect theseabstract maxims and reputed principles of science, will, I fear findhimself mistaken. Such kind of general propositions are seldom mentionedin the huts of Indians: much less are they to be found in the thoughtsof children, or any impressions of them on the minds of naturals. Theyare the language and business of the schools and academies of learnednations accustomed to that sort of conversation or learning, wheredisputes are frequent; these maxims being suited to artificialargumentation and useful for conviction, but not much conducing to thediscovery of truth or advancement of knowledge. But of their small usefor the improvement of knowledge I shall have occasion to speak more atlarge, l. 4, c. 7. 28. Recapitulation. I know not how absurd this may seem to the masters of demonstration. Andprobably it will hardly go down with anybody at first hearing. I musttherefore beg a little truce with prejudice, and the forbearance ofcensure, till I have been heard out in the sequel of this Discourse, being very willing to submit to better judgments. And since Iimpartially search after truth, I shall not be sorry to be convinced, that I have been too fond of my own notions; which I confess we are allapt to be, when application and study have warmed our heads with them. Upon the whole matter, I cannot see any ground to think these twospeculative Maxims innate: since they are not universally assented to;and the assent they so generally find is no other than what severalpropositions, not allowed to be innate, equally partake in with them:and since the assent that is given them is produced another way, andcomes not from natural inscription, as I doubt not but to make appear inthe following Discourse. And if THESE "first principles" of knowledgeand science are found not to be innate, no OTHER speculative maxims can(I suppose), with better right pretend to be so. CHAPTER II. NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES 1. No moral Principles so clear and so generally received as theforementioned speculative Maxims. If those speculative Maxims, whereof we discoursed in the foregoingchapter, have not an actual universal assent from all mankind, as wethere proved, it is much more visible concerning PRACTICAL Principles, that they come short of an universal reception: and I think it will behard to instance any one moral rule which can pretend to so general andready an assent as, "What is, is"; or to be so manifest a truth as this, that "It is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be. " Wherebyit is evident that they are further removed from a title to be innate;and the doubt of their being native impressions on the mind is strongeragainst those moral principles than the other. Not that it brings theirtruth at all in question. They are equally true, though not equallyevident. Those speculative maxims carry their own evidence with them:but moral principles require reasoning and discourse, and some exerciseof the mind, to discover the certainty of their truth. They lie not openas natural characters engraved on the mind; which, if any such were, they must needs be visible by themselves, and by their own light becertain and known to everybody. But this is no derogation to their truthand certainty; no more than it is to the truth or certainty of the threeangles of a triangle being equal to two right ones because it is not soevident as "the whole is bigger than a part, " nor so apt to be assentedto at first hearing. It may suffice that these moral rules are capableof demonstration: and therefore it is our own faults if we come not toa certain knowledge of them. But the ignorance wherein many men are ofthem, and the slowness of assent wherewith others receive them, aremanifest proofs that they are not innate, and such as offer themselvesto their view without searching. 2. Faith and Justice not owned as Principles by all Men. Whether there be any such moral principles, wherein all men do agree, Iappeal to any who have been but moderately conversant in the history ofmankind, and looked abroad beyond the smoke of their own chimneys. Whereis that practical truth that is universally received, without doubt orquestion, as it must be if innate? JUSTICE, and keeping of contracts, is that which most men seem to agree in. This is a principle which isthought to extend itself to the dens of thieves, and the confederaciesof the greatest villains; and they who have gone furthest towards theputting off of humanity itself, keep faith and rules of justice one withanother. I grant that outlaws themselves do this one amongst another:but it is without receiving these as the innate laws of nature. Theypractise them as rules of convenience within their own communities: butit is impossible to conceive that he embraces justice as a practicalprinciple who acts fairly with his fellow-highwayman, and at the sametime plunders or kills the next honest man he meets with Justice andtruth are the common ties of society; and therefore even outlaws androbbers, who break with all the world besides, must keep faith and rulesof equity amongst themselves; or else they cannot hold together. Butwill any one say, that those that live by fraud or rapine have innateprinciples of truth and justice which they allow and assent to? 3. Objection: though Men deny them in their Practice, yet they admitthem in their Thoughts answered. Perhaps it will be urged, that the tacit assent of their minds agrees towhat their practice contradicts. I answer, first, I have always thoughtthe actions of men the best interpreters of their thoughts. But, since it is certain that most men's practices, and some men's openprofessions, have either questioned or denied these principles, it isimpossible to establish an universal consent, (though we should look forit only amongst grown men, ) without which it is impossible to concludethem innate. Secondly, it is very strange and unreasonable to supposeinnate practical principles, that terminate only in contemplation. Practical principles, derived from nature, are there for operation, andmust produce conformity of action, not barely speculative assent totheir truth, or else they are in vain distinguished from speculativemaxims. Nature, I confess, has put into man a desire of happiness and anaversion to misery: these indeed are innate practical principles which(as practical principles ought) DO continue constantly to operate andinfluence all our actions without ceasing: these may be observed in allpersons and all ages, steady and universal; but these are INCLINATIONSOF THE APPETITE to good, not impressions of truth on the understanding. I deny not that there are natural tendencies imprinted on the minds ofmen; and that from the very first instances of sense and perception, there are some things that are grateful and others unwelcome to them;some things that they incline to and others that they fly: but thismakes nothing for innate characters on the mind, which are to bethe principles of knowledge regulating our practice. Such naturalimpressions on the understanding are so far from being confirmed hereby, that this is an argument against them; since, if there were certaincharacters imprinted by nature on the understanding, as the principlesof knowledge, we could not but perceive them constantly operate in usand influence our knowledge, as we do those others on the will andappetite; which never cease to be the constant springs and motives ofall our actions, to which we perpetually feel them strongly impellingus. 4. Moral Rules need a Proof, ERGO not innate. Another reason that makes me doubt of any innate practical principlesis, that I think THERE CANNOT ANY ONE MORAL RULE BE PROPOSED WHEREOF AMAN MAY NOT JUSTLY DEMAND A REASON: which would be perfectly ridiculousand absurd if they were innate; or so much as self-evident, which everyinnate principle must needs be, and not need any proof to ascertain itstruth, nor want any reason to gain it approbation. He would be thoughtvoid of common sense who asked on the one side, or on the other sidewent to give a reason WHY "it is impossible for the same thing to be andnot to be. " It carries its own light and evidence with it, and needs noother proof: he that understands the terms assents to it for its ownsake or else nothing will ever be able to prevail with him to do it. Butshould that most unshaken rule of morality and foundation of all socialvirtue, "That should do as he would be done unto, " be proposed to onewho never heard of it before, but yet is of capacity to understand itsmeaning; might he not without any absurdity ask a reason why? And werenot he that proposed it bound to make out the truth and reasonablenessof it to him? Which plainly shows it not to be innate; for if it were itcould neither want nor receive any proof; but must needs (at leastas soon as heard and understood) be received and assented to as anunquestionable truth, which a man can by no means doubt of. So thatthe truth of all these moral rules plainly depends upon some otherantecedent to them, and from which they must be DEDUCED; which could notbe if either they were innate or so much as self-evident. 5. Instance in keeping Compacts That men should keep their compacts is certainly a great and undeniablerule in morality. But yet, if a Christian, who has the view of happinessand misery in another life, be asked why a man must keep his word, hewill give this as a reason:--Because God, who has the power of eternallife and death, requires it of us. But if a Hobbist be asked why? hewill answer:--Because the public requires it, and the Leviathan willpunish you if you do not. And if one of the old philosophers had beenasked, he would have answered:--Because it was dishonest, below thedignity of a man, and opposite to virtue, the highest perfection ofhuman nature, to do otherwise. 6. Virtue generally approved not because innate, but because profitable. Hence naturally flows the great variety of opinions concerning moralrules which are to be found among men, according to the different sortsof happiness they have a prospect of, or propose to themselves; whichcould not be if practical principles were innate, and imprinted in ourminds immediately by the hand of God. I grant the existence of God isso many ways manifest, and the obedience we owe him so congruous to thelight of reason, that a great part of mankind give testimony to the lawof nature: but yet I think it must be allowed that several moral rulesmay receive from mankind a very general approbation, without eitherknowing or admitting the true ground of morality; which can only be thewill and law of a God, who sees men in the dark, has in his hand rewardsand punishments, and power enough to call to account the proudestoffender. For, God having, by an inseparable connexion, joined virtueand public happiness together, and made the practice thereof necessaryto the preservation of society, and visibly beneficial to all with whomthe virtuous man has to do; it is no wonder that every one should notonly allow, but recommend and magnify those rules to others, from whoseobservance of them he is sure to reap advantage to himself. He may, outof interest as well as conviction, cry up that for sacred, which, ifonce trampled on and profaned, he himself cannot be safe nor secure. This, though it takes nothing from the moral and eternal obligationwhich these rules evidently have, yet it shows that the outwardacknowledgment men pay to them in their words proves not that they areinnate principles: nay, it proves not so much as that men assent tothem inwardly in their own minds, as the inviolable rules of their ownpractice; since we find that self-interest, and the conveniences of thislife, make many men own an outward profession and approbation of them, whose actions sufficiently prove that they very little consider theLawgiver that prescribed these rules; nor the hell that he has ordainedfor the punishment of those that transgress them. 7. Men's actions convince us, that the Rule of Virtue is not theirinternal Principle. For, if we will not in civility allow too much sincerity to theprofessions of most men, but think their actions to be the interpretersof their thoughts, we shall find that they have no such internalveneration for these rules, nor so full a persuasion of their certaintyand obligation. The great principle of morality, 'To do as one would bedone to, ' is more commended than practised. But the breach of this rulecannot be a greater vice, than to teach others, that it is no moralrule, nor obligatory, would be thought madness, and contrary to thatinterest men sacrifice to, when they break it themselves. PerhapsCONSCIENCE will be urged as checking us for such breaches, and so theinternal obligation and establishment of the rule be preserved. 8. Conscience no Proof of any innate Moral Rule. To which I answer, that I doubt not but, without being written on theirhearts, many men may, by the same way that they come to the knowledge ofother things, come to assent to several moral rules, and be convincedof their obligation. Others also may come to be of the same mind, from their education, company, and customs of their country; whichpersuasion, however got, will serve to set conscience on work; which isnothing else but our own opinion or judgment of the moral rectitudeor gravity of our own actions; and if conscience be a proof of innateprinciples, contraries may be innate principles; since some men with thesame bent of conscience prosecute what others avoid. 9. Instances of Enormities practised without Remorse. But I cannot see how any men should ever transgress those moral rules, with confidence and serenity, were they innate, and stamped upontheir minds. View but an army at the sacking of a town, and see whatobservation or sense of moral principles, or what touch of consciencefor all the outrages they do. Robberies, murders, rapes, are the sportsof men set at liberty from punishment and censure. Have there not beenwhole nations, and those of the most civilized people, amongst whom theexposing their children, and leaving them in the fields to perish bywant or wild beasts has been the practice; as little condemned orscrupled as the begetting them? Do they not still, in some countries, put them into the same graves with their mothers, if they die inchildbirth; or despatch them, if a pretended astrologer declares them tohave unhappy stars? And are there not places where, at a certain age, they kill or expose their parents, without any remorse at all? In a partof Asia, the sick, when their case comes to be thought desperate, arecarried out and laid on the earth before they are dead; and left there, exposed to wind and weather, to perish without assistance or pity. Itis familiar among the Mingrelians, a people professing Christianity, tobury their children alive without scruple. There are places where theyeat their own children. The Caribbees were wont to geld their children, on purpose to fat and eat them. And Garcilasso de la Vega tells us of apeople in Peru which were wont to fat and eat the children they got ontheir female captives, whom they kept as concubines for that purpose, and when they were past breeding, the mothers themselves were killed tooand eaten. The virtues whereby the Tououpinambos believed they meritedparadise, were revenge, and eating abundance of their enemies. They havenot so much as a name for God, and have no religion, no worship. Thesaints who are canonized amongst the Turks, lead lives which one cannotwith modesty relate. A remarkable passage to this purpose, out of thevoyage of Baumgarten, which is a book not every day to be met with, Ishall set down at large, in the language it is published in. Ibi (sc. Prope Belbes in Aegypto) vidimus sanctum unum Saracenicum interarenarum cumulos, ita ut ex utero matris prodiit nudum sedentem. Mosest, ut didicimus, Mahometistis, ut eos, qui amentes et sine rationesunt, pro sanctis colant et venerentur. Insuper et eos, qui cum diuvitam egerint inquinatissimam, voluntariam demum poenitentiam etpaupertatem, sanctitate venerandos deputant. Ejusmodi vero genus hominumlibertatem quandam effrenem habent, domos quos volunt intrandi, edendi, bibendi, et quod majus est, concumbendi; ex quo concubitu, si prolessecuta fuerit, sancta similiter habetur. His ergo hominibus dum vivunt, magnos exhibent honores; mortuis vero vel templa vel monumenta extruuntamplissima, eosque contingere ac sepelire maximae fortunae ducunt loco. Audivimus haec dicta et dicenda per interpretem a Mucrelo nostro. Insuper sanctum ilium, quern eo loco vidimus, publicitus apprimecommendari, eum esse hominem sanctum, divinum ac integritate praecipuum;eo quod, nec faminarum unquam esset, nec puerorum, sed tantummodoasellarum concubitor atque mularum. (Peregr. Baumgarten, 1. Ii. C. I. P. 73. ) Where then are those innate principles of justice, piety, gratitude, equity, chastity? Or where is that universal consent that assures usthere are such inbred rules? Murders in duels, when fashion has madethem honourable, are committed without remorse of conscience: nay, inmany places innocence in this case is the greatest ignominy. And if welook abroad to take a view of men as they are, we shall find that theyhave remorse, in one place, for doing or omitting that which others, inanother place, think they merit by. 10. Men have contrary practical Principles. He that will carefully peruse the history of mankind, and look abroadinto the several tribes of men, and with indifferency survey theiractions, will be able to satisfy himself, that there is scarce thatprinciple of morality to be named, or, rule of virtue to be thoughton, (those only excepted that are absolutely necessary to hold societytogether, which commonly too are neglected betwixt distinct societies, )which is not, somewhere or other, slighted and condemned by the generalfashion of whole societies of men, governed by practical opinions andrules of living quite opposite to others. 11. Whole Nations reject several Moral Rules. Here perhaps it will be objected, that it is no argument that the ruleis not known, because it is broken. I grant the objection good wheremen, though they transgress, yet disown not the law; where fear ofshame, censure, or punishment, carries the mark of some awe it has uponthem. But it is impossible to conceive that a whole nation of men shouldall publicly reject and renounce what every one of them certainly andinfallibly knew to be a law; for so they must who have it naturallyimprinted on their minds. It is possible men may sometimes own rules ofmorality which in their private thoughts they do not believe to be true, only to keep themselves in reputation and esteem amongst those who arepersuaded of their obligation. But it is not to be imagined that a wholesociety of men should publicly and professedly disown and cast off arule which they could not in their own minds but be infallibly certainwas a law; nor be ignorant that all men they should have to do withknew it to be such: and therefore must every one of them apprehend fromothers all the contempt and abhorrence due to one who professes himselfvoid of humanity: and one who, confounding the known and naturalmeasures of right and wrong, cannot but be looked on as the professedenemy of their peace and happiness. Whatever practical principle isinnate, cannot but be known to every one to be just and good. It istherefore little less than a contradiction to suppose, that wholenations of men should, both in their professions and practice, unanimously and universally give the lie to what, by the most invincibleevidence, every one of them knew to be true, right, and good. Thisis enough to satisfy us that no practical rule which is anywhereuniversally, and with public approbation or allowance, transgressed, can be supposed innate. --But I have something further to add in answerto this objection. 12. The generally allowed breach of a rule proof that it is not innate. The breaking of a rule, say you, is no argument that it is unknown. Igrant it: but the GENERALLY ALLOWED breach of it anywhere, I say, isa proof that it is not innate. For example: let us take any of theserules, which, being the most obvious deductions of human reason, andconformable to the natural inclination of the greatest part of men, fewest people have had the impudence to deny or inconsideration to doubtof. If any can be thought to be naturally imprinted, none, I think, canhave a fairer pretence to be innate than this: "Parents, preserve andcherish your children. " When, therefore, you say that this is an innaterule, what do you mean? Either that it is an innate principle which uponall occasions excites and directs the actions of all men; or else, thatit is a truth which all men have imprinted on their minds, and whichtherefore they know and assent to. But in neither of these senses is itinnate. FIRST, that it is not a principle which influences all men'sactions, is what I have proved by the examples before cited: nor needwe seek so far as the Mingrelia or Peru to find instances of such asneglect, abuse, nay, and destroy their children; or look on it only asthe more than brutality of some savage and barbarous nations, when weremember that it was a familiar and uncondemned practice amongst theGreeks and Romans to expose, without pity or remorse, their innocentinfants. SECONDLY, that it is an innate truth, known to all men, is alsofalse. For, "Parents preserve your children, " is so far from an innatetruth, that it is no truth at all: it being a command, and not aproposition, and so not capable of truth or falsehood. To make itcapable of being assented to as true, it must be reduced to some suchproposition as this: "It is the duty of parents to preserve theirchildren. " But what duty is, cannot be understood without a law; nora law be known or supposed without a lawmaker, or without reward andpunishment; so that it is impossible that this, or any other, practicalprinciple should be innate, i. E. Be imprinted on the mind as aduty, without supposing the ideas of God, of law, of obligation, ofpunishment, of a life after this, innate: for that punishment followsnot in this life the breach of this rule, and consequently that it hasnot the force of a law in countries where the generally allowed practiceruns counter to it, is in itself evident. But these ideas (which must beall of them innate, if anything as a duty be so) are so far from beinginnate, that it is not every studious or thinking man, much less everyone that is born, in whom they are to be found clear and distinct; andthat one of them, which of all others seems most likely to be innate, is not so, (I mean the idea of God, ) I think, in the next chapter, willappear very evident to any considering man. 13. If men can be ignorant of what is innate, certainty is not describedby innate principles. From what has been said, I think we may safely conclude that whateverpractical rule is in any place generally and with allowance broken, cannot be supposed innate; it being impossible that men should, withoutshame or fear, confidently and serenely, break a rule which they couldnot but evidently know that God had set up, and would certainly punishthe breach of, (which they must, if it were innate, ) to a degree to makeit a very ill bargain to the transgressor. Without such a knowledge asthis, a man can never be certain that anything is his duty. Ignoranceor doubt of the law, hopes to escape the knowledge or power of thelaw-maker, or the like, may make men give way to a present appetite;but let any one see the fault, and the rod by it, and with thetransgression, a fire ready to punish it; a pleasure tempting, and thehand of the Almighty visibly held up and prepared to take vengeance, (for this must be the case where any duty is imprinted on the mind, ) andthen tell me whether it be possible for people with such a prospect, such a certain knowledge as this, wantonly, and without scruple, to offend against a law which they carry about them in indeliblecharacters, and that stares them in the face whilst they are breakingit? Whether men, at the same time that they feel in themselves theimprinted edicts of an Omnipotent Law-maker, can, with assurance andgaiety, slight and trample underfoot his most sacred injunctions? Andlastly, whether it be possible that whilst a man thus openly bidsdefiance to this innate law and supreme Lawgiver, all the bystanders, yea, even the governors and rulers of the people, full of the samesense both of the law and Law-maker, should silently connive, withouttestifying their dislike or laying the least blame on it? Principles ofactions indeed there are lodged in men's appetites; but these are so farfrom being innate moral principles, that if they were left to their fullswing they would carry men to the overturning of all morality. Morallaws are set as a curb and restraint to these exorbitant desires, whichthey cannot be but by rewards and punishments that will overbalance thesatisfaction any one shall propose to himself in the breach of the law. If, therefore, anything be imprinted on the minds of all men as a law, all men must have a certain and unavoidable knowledge that certain andunavoidable punishment will attend the breach of it. For if men can beignorant or doubtful of what is innate, innate principles are insistedon, and urged to no purpose; truth and certainty (the things pretended)are not at all secured by them; but men are in the same uncertainfloating estate with as without them. An evident indubitable knowledgeof unavoidable punishment, great enough to make the transgression veryuneligible, must accompany an innate law; unless with an innate law theycan suppose an innate Gospel too. I would not here be mistaken, as if, because I deny an innate law I thought there were none but positivelaws. There is a great deal of difference between an innate law, and alaw of nature between something imprinted on our minds in their veryoriginal, and something that we, being ignorant of, may attain to theknowledge of, by the use and due application of our natural faculties. And I think they equally forsake the truth who, running into contraryextremes, either affirm an innate law, or deny that there is a lawknowable by the light of nature, i. E. Without the help of positiverevelation. 14. Those who maintain innate practical Principles tell us not what theyare. The difference there is amongst men in their practical principles isso evident that I think I need say no more to evince, that it willbe impossible to find any innate moral rules by this mark of generalassent; and it is enough to make one suspect that the supposition ofsuch innate principles is but an opinion taken up at pleasure; sincethose who talk so confidently of them are so sparing to tell us WHICHTHEY ARE. This might with justice be expected from those men who laystress upon this opinion; and it gives occasion to distrust either theirknowledge or charity, who, declaring that God has imprinted on the mindsof men the foundations of knowledge and the rules of living, are yet solittle favourable to the information of their neighbours, or the quietof mankind, as not to point out to them which they are, in the varietymen are distracted with. But, in truth, were there any such innateprinciples there would be no need to teach them. Did men find suchinnate propositions stamped on their minds, they would easily be ableto distinguish them from other truths that they afterwards learned anddeduced from them; and there would be nothing more easy than to knowwhat, and how many, they were. There could be no more doubt about theirnumber than there is about the number of our fingers; and it is likethen every system would be ready to give them us by tale. But sincenobody, that I know, has ventured yet to give a catalogue of them, theycannot blame those who doubt of these innate principles; since even theywho require men to believe that there are such innate propositions, donot tell us what they are. It is easy to foresee, that if different menof different sects should go about to give us a list of those innatepractical principles, they would set down only such as suited theirdistinct hypotheses, and were fit to support the doctrines of theirparticular schools or churches; a plain evidence that there are no suchinnate truths. Nay, a great part of men are so far from finding anysuch innate moral principles in themselves, that, by denying freedom tomankind, and thereby making men no other than bare machines, they takeaway not only innate, but all moral rules whatsoever, and leave nota possibility to believe any such, to those who cannot conceive howanything can be capable of a law that is not a free agent. And upon thatground they must necessarily reject all principles of virtue, who cannotput MORALITY and MECHANISM together, which are not very easy to bereconciled or made consistent. 15. Lord Herbert's innate Principles examined. When I had written this, being informed that my Lord Herbert had, inhis book De Veritate, assigned these innate principles, I presentlyconsulted him, hoping to find in a man of so great parts, something thatmight satisfy me in this point, and put an end to my inquiry. In hischapter De Instinctu Naturali, I met with these six marks of hisNotitice Communes:--1. Prioritas. 2. Independentia. 3. Universalitas. 4. Certitudo. 5. Necessitas, i. E. As he explains it, faciunt ad hominisconservationem. 6. Modus conformationis, i. E. Assensus nulla interpositamora. And at the latter end of his little treatise De Religione Laici, he says this of these innate principles: Adeo ut non uniuscujusvisreligionis confinio arctentur quae ubique vigent veritates. Sunt enim inipsa mente caelitus descriptae, nullisque traditionibus, sive scriptis, sive non scriptis, obnoxiae, p. 3 And Veritates nostrae catholicae, quaetanquam indubia Dei emata in foro interiori descriptae. Thus, having given the marks of the innate principles or common notions, and asserted their being imprinted on the minds of men by the hand ofGod, he proceeds to set them down, and they are these:--1. Esse aliquodsupremum numen. 2. Numen illud coli debere. 3. Virtutem cum pietateconjunctam optimum esse rationem cultus divini. 4. Resipiscendum esse apeccatis. 5. Dari praemium vel paenam post hanc vitam transactam. ThoughI allow these to be clear truths, and such as, if rightly explained, arational creature can hardly avoid giving his assent to, yet I thinkhe is far from proving them innate impressions in foro interioridescriptae. For I must take leave to observe:-- 16. These five either not all, or more than all, if there are any. First, that these five propositions are either not all, or more thanall, those common notions written on our minds by the finger of God; ifit were reasonable to believe any at all to be so written. Since thereare other propositions which, even by his own rules, have as just apretence to such an original, and may be as well admitted for innateprinciples, as at least some of these five he enumerates, viz. 'Do asthou wouldst be done unto. ' And perhaps some hundreds of others, whenwell considered. 17. The supposed marks wanting. Secondly, that all his marks are not to be found in each of his fivepropositions, viz. His first, second, and third marks agree perfectly toneither of them; and the first, second, third, fourth, and sixth marksagree but ill to his third, fourth, and fifth propositions. For, besidesthat we are assured from history of many men, nay whole nations, whodoubt or disbelieve some or all of them, I cannot see how the third, viz. "That virtue joined with piety is the best worship of God, " can bean innate principle, when the name or sound virtue, is so hard to beunderstood; liable to so much uncertainty in its signification; and thething it stands for so much contended about and difficult to be known. And therefore this cannot be but a very uncertain rule of humanpractice, and serve but very little to the conduct of our lives, and istherefore very unfit to be assigned as an innate practical principle. 18. Of little use if they were innate. For let us consider this proposition as to its meaning, (for it isthe sense, and not sound, that is and must be the principle or commonnotion, ) viz. "Virtue is the best worship of God, " i. E. Is mostacceptable to him; which, if virtue be taken, as most commonly it is, for those actions which, according to the different opinions of severalcountries, are accounted laudable, will be a proposition so far frombeing certain, that it will not be true. If virtue be taken for actionsconformable to God's will, or to the rule prescribed by God--which isthe true and only measure of virtue when virtue is used to signify whatis in its own nature right and good--then this proposition, "That virtueis the best worship of God, " will be most true and certain, but of verylittle use in human life: since it will amount to no more but this, viz. "That God is pleased with the doing of what he commands";--which a manmay certainly know to be true, without knowing what it is that God dothcommand; and so be as far from any rule or principle of his actionsas he was before. And I think very few will take a proposition whichamounts to no more than this, viz. "That God is pleased with the doingof what he himself commands, " for an innate moral principle written onthe minds of all men, (however true and certain it may be, ) since itteaches so little. Whosoever does so will have reason to think hundredsof propositions innate principles; since there are many which have asgood a title as this to be received for such, which nobody yet ever putinto that rank of innate principles. 19. Scarce possible that God should engrave principles in words ofuncertain meaning. Nor is the fourth proposition (viz. "Men must repent of their sins")much more instructive, till what those actions are that are meant bysins be set down. For the word peccata, or sins, being put, as itusually is, to signify in general ill actions that will draw punishmentupon the doers, what great principle of morality can that be to tell uswe should be sorry, and cease to do that which will bring mischief uponus; without knowing what those particular actions are that will do so?Indeed this is a very true proposition, and fit to be inculcated on andreceived by those who are supposed to have been taught WHAT actions inall kinds ARE sins: but neither this nor the former can be imagined tobe innate principles; nor to be of any use if they were innate, unlessthe particular measures and bounds of all virtues and vices wereengraven in men's minds, and were innate principles also, which I thinkis very much to be doubted. And therefore, I imagine, it will scarcelyseem possible that God should engrave principles in men's minds, inwords of uncertain signification, such as VIRTUES and SINS, whichamongst different men stand for different things: nay, it cannot besupposed to be in words at all, which, being in most of these principlesvery general names, cannot be understood but by knowing the particularscomprehended under them. And in the practical instances, the measuresmust be taken from the knowledge of the actions themselves, and therules of them, --abstracted from words, and antecedent to the knowledgeof names; which rules a man must know, what language soever he chance tolearn, whether English or Japan, or if he should learn no language atall, or never should understand the use of words, as happens in the caseof dumb and deaf men. When it shall be made out that men ignorant ofwords, or untaught by the laws and customs of their country, know thatit is part of the worship of God not to kill another man; not to knowmore women than one not to procure abortion; not to expose theirchildren; not to take from another what is his, though we want itourselves, but on the contrary, relieve and supply his wants; andwhenever we have done the contrary we ought to repent, be sorry, andresolve to do so no more;--when I say, all men shall be proved actuallyto know and allow all these and a thousand other such rules, all ofwhich come under these two general words made use of above, viz. Virtutes et peccata virtues and sins, there will be more reasonfor admitting these and the like, for common notions and practicalprinciples. Yet, after all, universal consent (were there any in moralprinciples) to truths, the knowledge whereof may be attained otherwise, would scarce prove them to be innate; which is all I contend for. 20. Objection, Innate Principles may be corrupted, answered. Nor will it be of much moment here to offer that very ready but not verymaterial answer, viz. That the innate principles of morality may, byeducation, and custom, and the general opinion of those amongst whom weconverse, be darkened, and at last quite worn out of the minds of men. Which assertion of theirs, if true, quite takes away the argumentof universal consent, by which this opinion of innate principles isendeavoured to be proved; unless those men will think it reasonablethat their private persuasions, or that of their party, should pass foruniversal consent;--a thing not unfrequently done, when men, presumingthemselves to be the only masters of right reason, cast by the votes andopinions of the rest of mankind as not worthy the reckoning. And thentheir argument stands thus:--"The principles which all mankind allowfor true, are innate; those that men of right reason admit, are theprinciples allowed by all mankind; we, and those of our mind, are men ofreason; therefore, we agreeing, our principles are innate";--which isa very pretty way of arguing, and a short cut to infallibility. For otherwise it will be very hard to understand how there be someprinciples which all men do acknowledge and agree in; and yet thereare none of those principles which are not, by depraved custom and illeducation, blotted out of the minds of many men: which is to say, thatall men admit, but yet many men do deny and dissent from them. Andindeed the supposition of SUCH first principles will serve us to verylittle purpose; and we shall be as much at a loss with as without them, if they may, by any human power--such as the will of our teachers, or opinions of our companions--be altered or lost in us: andnotwithstanding all this boast of first principles and innate light, weshall be as much in the dark and uncertainty as if there were no suchthing at all: it being all one to have no rule, and one that will warpany way; or amongst various and contrary rules, not to know which isthe right. But concerning innate principles, I desire these men to say, whether they can or cannot, by education and custom, be blurred andblotted out; if they cannot, we must find them in all mankind alike, andthey must be clear in everybody; and if they may suffer variationfrom adventitious notions, we must then find them clearest and mostperspicuous nearest the fountain, in children and illiterate people, who have received least impression from foreign opinions. Let them takewhich side they please, they will certainly find it inconsistent withvisible matter of fact and daily observation. 21. Contrary Principles in the World. I easily grant that there are great numbers of opinions which, by men ofdifferent countries, educations, and tempers, are received and embracedas first and unquestionable principles; many whereof, both for theirabsurdity as well oppositions to one another, it is impossible should betrue. But yet all those propositions, how remote soever from reason areso sacred somewhere or other, that men even of good understanding inother matters, will sooner part with their lives, and whatever isdearest to them, than suffer themselves to doubt, or others to question, the truth of them. 22. How men commonly come by their Principles. This, however strange it may seem, is that which every day's experienceconfirms; and will not, perhaps, appear so wonderful, if we consider theways and steps by which it is brought about; and how really it may cometo pass, that doctrines that have been derived from no better originalthan the superstition of a nurse, or the authority of an old woman, may, by length of time and consent of neighbours, grow up to the dignity ofPRINCIPLES in religion or morality. For such, who are careful (as theycall it) to principle children well, (and few there be who have not aset of those principles for them, which they believe in, ) instil intothe unwary, and as yet unprejudiced, understanding, (for white paperreceives any characters, ) those doctrines they would have themretain and profess. These being taught them as soon as they have anyapprehension; and still as they grow up confirmed to them, either bythe open profession or tacit consent of all they have to do with; orat least by those of whose wisdom, knowledge, and piety they have anopinion, who never suffer those propositions to be otherwise mentionedbut as the basis and foundation on which they build their religion andmanners, come, by these means, to have the reputation of unquestionable, self-evident, and innate truths. 23. Principles supposed innate because we do not remember when we beganto hold them. To which we may add, that when men so instructed are grown up, andreflect on their own minds, they cannot find anything more ancient therethan those opinions, which were taught them before their memory began tokeep a register of their actions, or date the time when any new thingappeared to them; and therefore make no scruple to conclude, that thosepropositions of whose knowledge they can find in themselves no original, were certainly the impress of God and nature upon their minds, and nottaught them by any one else. These they entertain and submit to, as manydo to their parents with veneration; not because it is natural: nor dochildren do it where they are not so taught; but because, having beenalways so educated, and having no remembrance of the beginning of thisrespect, they think it is natural. 24. How such principles come to be held. This will appear very likely, and almost unavoidable to come to pass, ifwe consider the nature of mankind and the constitution of human affairs;wherein most men cannot live without employing their time in the dailylabours of their callings; nor be at quiet in their minds without SOMEfoundation or principle to rest their thoughts on. There is scarcely anyone so floating and superficial in his understanding, who hath not somereverenced propositions, which are to him the principles on which hebottoms his reasonings, and by which he judgeth of truth and falsehood, right and wrong; which some, wanting skill and leisure, and others theinclination, and some being taught that they ought not to examine, thereare few to be found who are not exposed by their ignorance, laziness, education, or precipitancy, to TAKE THEM UPON TRUST. 25. Further explained. This is evidently the case of all children and young folk; and custom, a greater power than nature, seldom failing to make them worship fordivine what she hath inured them to bow their minds and submit theirunderstandings to, it is no wonder that grown men, either perplexedin the necessary affairs of life, or hot in the pursuit of pleasures, should not seriously sit down to examine their own tenets; especiallywhen one of their principles is, that principles ought not to bequestioned. And had men leisure, parts, and will, who is there almostthat dare shake the foundations of all his past thoughts and actions, and endure to bring upon himself the shame of having been a long timewholly in mistake and error? Who is there hardy enough to contend withthe reproach which is everywhere prepared for those who dare venture todissent from the received opinions of their country or party? And whereis the man to be found that can patiently prepare himself to bear thename of whimsical, sceptical, or atheist; which he is sure to meet with, who does in the least scruple any of the common opinions? And he will bemuch more afraid to question those principles, when he shall think them, as most men do, the standards set up by God in his mind, to be the ruleand touchstone of all other opinions. And what can hinder him fromthinking them sacred, when he finds them the earliest of all his ownthoughts, and the most reverenced by others? 26. A worship of idols. It is easy to imagine how, by these means, it comes to pass that menworship the idols that have been set up in their minds; grow fond ofthe notions they have been long acquainted with there; and stamp thecharacters of divinity upon absurdities and errors; become zealousvotaries to bulls and monkeys, and contend too, fight, and die indefence of their opinions. _Dum solos credit habendos esse deos, quosipse colit_. For, since the reasoning faculties of the soul, which arealmost constantly, though not always warily nor wisely employed, wouldnot know how to move, for want of a foundation and footing, in most men, who through laziness or avocation do not, or for want of time, or truehelps, or for other causes, cannot penetrate into the principles ofknowledge, and trace truth to its fountain and original, it is naturalfor them, and almost unavoidable, to take up with some borrowedprinciples; which being reputed and presumed to be the evident proofsof other things, are thought not to need any other proof themselves. Whoever shall receive any of these into his mind, and entertain themthere with the reverence usually paid to principles, never venturing toexamine them, but accustoming himself to believe them, because they areto be believed, may take up, from his education and the fashions of hiscountry, any absurdity for innate principles; and by long poring on thesame objects, so dim his sight as to take monsters lodged in his ownbrain for the images of the Deity, and the workmanship of his hands. 27. Principles must be examined. By this progress, how many there are who arrive at principles whichthey believe innate may be easily observed, in the variety of oppositeprinciples held and contended for by all sorts and degrees of men. Andhe that shall deny this to be the method wherein most men proceed to theassurance they have of the truth and evidence of their principles, willperhaps find it a hard matter any other way to account for the contrarytenets, which are firmly believed, confidently asserted, and which greatnumbers are ready at any time to seal with their blood. And, indeed, ifit be the privilege of innate principles to be received upon their ownauthority, without examination, I know not what may not be believed, orhow any one's principles can be questioned. If they may and ought to beexamined and tried, I desire to know how first and innate principlescan be tried; or at least it is reasonable to demand the MARKS andCHARACTERS whereby the genuine innate principles may be distinguishedfrom others: that so, amidst the great variety of pretenders, I may bekept from mistakes in so material a point as this. When this is done, Ishall be ready to embrace such welcome and useful propositions; and tillthen I may with modesty doubt; since I fear universal consent, which isthe only one produced, will scarcely prove a sufficient mark to directmy choice, and assure me of any innate principles. From what has been said, I think it past doubt, that there are nopractical principles wherein all men agree; and therefore none innate. CHAPTER III. OTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING INNATE PRINCIPLES, BOTH SPECULATIVE ANDPRACTICAL. 1. Principles not innate, unless their Ideas be innate Had those who would persuade us that there are innate principles nottaken them together in gross, but considered separately the parts out ofwhich those propositions are made, they would not, perhaps, have been soforward to believe they were innate. Since, if the IDEAS which made upthose truths were not, it was impossible that the PROPOSITIONS made upof them should be innate, or our knowledge of them be born with us. For, if the ideas be not innate, there was a time when the mind was withoutthose principles; and then they will not be innate, but be derived fromsome other original. For, where the ideas themselves are not, there canbe no knowledge, no assent, no mental or verbal propositions about them. 2. Ideas, especially those belonging to Principles, not born withchildren If we will attentively consider new-born children, we shall have littlereason to think that they bring many ideas into the world with them. For, bating perhaps some faint ideas of hunger, and thirst, and warmth, and some pains, which they may have felt in the womb, there is not theleast appearance of any settled ideas at all in them; especially ofIDEAS ANSWERING THE TERMS WHICH MAKE UP THOSE UNIVERSAL PROPOSITIONSTHAT ARE ESTEEMED INNATE PRINCIPLES. One may perceive how, by degrees, afterwards, ideas come into their minds; and that they get no more, norother, than what experience, and the observation of things that come intheir way, furnish them with; which might be enough to satisfy us thatthey are not original characters stamped on the mind. 3. Impossibility and Identity not innate ideas "It is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be, " is certainly(if there be any such) an innate PRINCIPLE. But can any one think, orwill any one say, that "impossibility" and "identity" are two innateIDEAS? Are they such as all mankind have, and bring into the world withthem? And are they those which are the first in children, and antecedentto all acquired ones? If they are innate, they must needs be so. Hath achild an idea of impossibility and identity, before it has of white orblack, sweet or bitter? And is it from the knowledge of this principlethat it concludes, that wormwood rubbed on the nipple hath not the sametaste that it used to receive from thence? Is it the actual knowledge ofIMPOSSIBILE EST IDEM ESSE, ET NON ESSE, that makes a child distinguishbetween its mother and a stranger; or that makes it fond of the one andflee the other? Or does the mind regulate itself and its assent byideas that it never yet had? Or the understanding draw conclusionsfrom principles which it never yet knew or understood? The namesIMPOSSIBILITY and IDENTITY stand for two ideas, so far from beinginnate, or born with us, that I think it requires great care andattention to form them right in our understandings. They are so far frombeing brought into the world with us, so remote from the thoughts ofinfancy and childhood, that I believe, upon examination it will be foundthat many grown men want them. 4. Identity, an Idea not innate. If IDENTITY (to instance that alone) be a native impression, andconsequently so clear and obvious to us that we must needs know it evenfrom our cradles, I would gladly be resolved by any one of seven, orseventy years old, whether a man, being a creature consisting of souland body, be the same man when his body is changed? Whether Euphorbusand Pythagoras, having had the same soul, were the same men, though theylived several ages asunder? Nay, whether the cock too, which had thesame soul, were not the same, with both of them? Whereby, perhaps, itwill appear that our idea of SAMENESS is not so settled and clear as todeserve to be thought innate in us. For if those innate ideas are notclear and distinct, so as to be universally known and naturally agreedon, they cannot be subjects of universal and undoubted truths, but willbe the unavoidable occasion of perpetual uncertainty. For, I supposeevery one's idea of identity will not be the same that Pythagoras andthousands of his followers have. And which then shall be true? Whichinnate? Or are there two different ideas of identity, both innate? 5. What makes the same man? Nor let any one think that the questions I have here proposed about theidentity of man are bare empty speculations; which, if they were, wouldbe enough to show, that there was in the understandings of men no innateidea of identity. He that shall with a little attention reflect on theresurrection, and consider that divine justice will bring to judgment, at the last day, the very same persons, to be happy or miserable in theother, who did well or ill in this life, will find it perhaps not easyto resolve with himself, what makes the same man, or wherein identityconsists; and will not be forward to think he, and every one, evenchildren themselves, have naturally a clear idea of it. 6. Whole and Part not innate ideas. Let us examine that principle of mathematics, viz. THAT THE WHOLEIS BIGGER THAN A PART. This, I take it, is reckoned amongst innateprinciples. I am sure it has as good a title as any to be thought so;which yet nobody can think it to be, when he considers the ideas itcomprehends in it, WHOLE and PART, are perfectly relative; but thepositive ideas to which they properly and immediately belong areextension and number, of which alone whole and part are relations. Sothat if whole and part are innate ideas, extension and number must be sotoo; it being impossible to have an idea of a relation, without havingany at all of the thing to which it belongs, and in which it is founded. Now, whether the minds of men have naturally imprinted on them the ideasof extension and number, I leave to be considered by those who are thepatrons of innate principles. 7. Idea of Worship not innate. That GOD IS TO BE WORSHIPPED, is, without doubt, as great a truth asany that can enter into the mind of man, and deserves the first placeamongst all practical principles. But yet it can by no means be thoughtinnate, unless the ideas of GOD and WORSHIP are innate. That the ideathe term worship stands for is not in the understanding of children, anda character stamped on the mind in its first original, I think will beeasily granted, by any one that considers how few there be amongst grownmen who have a clear and distinct notion of it. And, I suppose, therecannot be anything more ridiculous than to say, that children have thispractical principle innate, "That God is to be worshipped, " and yet thatthey know not what that worship of God is, which is their duty. But topass by this. 8. Idea of God not innate. If any idea can be imagined innate, the idea of GOD may, of all others, for many reasons, be thought so; since it is hard to conceive how thereshould be innate moral principles, without an innate idea of a Deity. Without a notion of a law-maker, it is impossible to have a notion of alaw, and an obligation to observe it. Besides the atheists taken noticeof amongst the ancients, and left branded upon the records of history, hath not navigation discovered, in these later ages, whole nations, at the bay of Soldania, in Brazil, and in the Caribbee islands, &c. , amongst whom there was to be found no notion of a God, no religion?Nicholaus del Techo, in Literis ex Paraquaria, de Caiguarum Conversione, has these words: Reperi eam gentem nullum nomen habere quod Deum, ethominis animam significet; nulla sacra habet, nulla idola. And perhaps, if we should with attention mind the lives and discoursesof people not so far off, we should have too much reason to fear, that many, in more civilized countries, have no very strong and clearimpressions of a Deity upon their minds, and that the complaints ofatheism made from the pulpit are not without reason. And though onlysome profligate wretches own it too barefacedly now; yet perhaps weshould hear more than we do of it from others, did not the fear ofthe magistrate's sword, or their neighbour's censure, tie up people'stongues; which, were the apprehensions of punishment or shame takenaway, would as openly proclaim their atheism as their lives do. 9. The name of God not universal or obscure in meaning. But had all mankind everywhere a notion of a God, (whereof yet historytells us the contrary, ) it would not from thence follow, that the ideaof him was innate. For, though no nation were to be found without aname, and some few dark notions of him, yet that would not prove them tobe natural impressions on the mind; no more than the names of fire, or the sun, heat, or number, do prove the ideas they stand for to beinnate; because the names of those things, and the ideas of them, are souniversally received and known amongst mankind. Nor, on the contrary, isthe want of such a name, or the absence of such a notion out of men'sminds, any argument against the being of a God; any more than it wouldbe a proof that there was no loadstone in the world, because a greatpart of mankind had neither a notion of any such thing nor a name forit; or be any show of argument to prove that there are no distinct andvarious species of angels, or intelligent beings above us, because wehave no ideas of such distinct species, or names for them. For, menbeing furnished with words, by the common language of their owncountries, can scarce avoid having some kind of ideas of those thingswhose names those they converse with have occasion frequently to mentionto them. And if they carry with it the notion of excellency, greatness, or something extraordinary; if apprehension and concernment accompanyit; if the fear of absolute and irresistible power set it on upon themind, --the idea is likely to sink the deeper, and spread the further;especially if it be such an idea as is agreeable to the common light ofreason, and naturally deducible from every part of our knowledge, asthat of a God is. For the visible marks of extraordinary wisdom andpower appear so plainly in all the works of the creation, that arational creature, who will but seriously reflect on them, cannot missthe discovery of a Deity. And the influence that the discovery of such aBeing must necessarily have on the minds of all that have but onceheard of it is so great, and carries such a weight of thought andcommunication with it, that it seems stranger to me that a whole nationof men should be anywhere found so brutish as to want the notion of aGod, than that they should be without any notion of numbers, or fire. 10. Ideas of God and idea of Fire. The name of God being once mentioned in any part of the world, toexpress a superior, powerful, wise, invisible Being, the suitableness ofsuch a notion to the principles of common reason, and the interest menwill always have to mention it often, must necessarily spread it far andwide; and continue it down to all generations: though yet the generalreception of this name, and some imperfect and unsteady notions conveyedthereby to the unthinking part of mankind, prove not the idea to beinnate; but only that they who made the discovery had made a right useof their reason, thought maturely of the causes of things, and tracedthem to their original; from whom other less considering people havingonce received so important a notion, it could not easily be lost again. 11. Idea of God not innate. This is all could be inferred from the notion of a God, were it tobe found universally in all the tribes of mankind, and generallyacknowledged, by men grown to maturity in all countries. For thegenerality of the acknowledging of a God, as I imagine, is extended nofurther than that; which, if it be sufficient to prove the idea of Godinnate, will as well prove the idea of fire innate; since I think it maybe truly said, that there is not a person in the world who has a notionof a God, who has not also the idea of fire. I doubt not but if a colonyof young children should be placed in an island where no fire was, theywould certainly neither have any notion of such a thing, nor name forit, how generally soever it were received and known in all the worldbesides; and perhaps too their apprehensions would be as far removedfrom any name, or notion, of a God, till some one amongst them hademployed his thoughts to inquire into the constitution and causes ofthings, which would easily lead him to the notion of a God; which havingonce taught to others, reason, and the natural propensity of their ownthoughts, would afterwards propagate, and continue amongst them. 12. Suitable to God's goodness, that all Men should have an idea of Him, therefore naturally imprinted by Him, answered. Indeed it is urged, that it is suitable to the goodness of God, toimprint upon the minds of men characters and notions of himself, and notto leave them in the dark and doubt in so grand a concernment; and also, by that means, to secure to himself the homage and veneration due fromso intelligent a creature as man; and therefore he has done it. This argument, if it be of any force, will prove much more than thosewho use it in this case expect from it. For, if we may conclude that Godhath done for men all that men shall judge is best for them, because itis suitable to his goodness so to do, it will prove, not only that Godhas imprinted on the minds of men an idea of himself, but that he hathplainly stamped there, in fair characters, all that men ought to know orbelieve of him; all that they ought to do in obedience to his will; andthat he hath given them a will and affections conformable to it. This, no doubt, every one will think better for men, than that they should, inthe dark, grope after knowledge, as St. Paul tells us all nations didafter God (Acts xvii. 27); than that their wills should clash with theirunderstandings, and their appetites cross their duty. The Romanists sayit is best for men, and so suitable to the goodness of God, that thereshould be an infallible judge of controversies on earth; and thereforethere is one. And I, by the same reason, say it is better for men thatevery man himself should be infallible. I leave them to consider, whether, by the force of this argument, they shall think that every manIS so. I think it a very good argument to say, --the infinitely wise Godhath made it so; and therefore it is best. But it seems to me a littletoo much confidence of our own wisdom to say, --'I think it best; andtherefore God hath made it so. ' And in the matter in hand, it will bein vain to argue from such a topic, that God hath done so, when certainexperience shows us that he hath not. But the goodness of God hath notbeen wanting to men, without such original impressions of knowledgeor ideas stamped on the mind; since he hath furnished man with thosefaculties which will serve for the sufficient discovery of all thingsrequisite to the end of such a being; and I doubt not but to show, thata man, by the right use of his natural abilities, may, without anyinnate principles, attain a knowledge of a God, and other things thatconcern him. God having endued man with those faculties of knowledgewhich he hath, was no more obliged by his goodness to plant those innatenotions in his mind, than that, having given him reason, hands, andmaterials, he should build him bridges or houses, --which some people inthe world, however of good parts, do either totally want, or are butill provided of, as well as others are wholly without ideas of God andprinciples of morality, or at least have but very ill ones; the reasonin both cases being, that they never employed their parts, faculties, and powers industriously that way, but contented themselves with theopinions, fashions, and things of their country, as they found them, without looking any further. Had you or I been born at the Bay ofSoldania, possibly our thoughts and notions had not exceeded thosebrutish ones of the Hottentots that inhabit there. And had the Virginiaking Apochancana been educated in England, he had been perhaps asknowing a divine, and as good a mathematician as any in it; thedifference between him and a more improved Englishman lying barely inthis, that the exercise of his faculties was bounded within the ways, modes, and notions of his own country, and never directed to any otheror further inquiries. And if he had not any idea of a God, it was onlybecause he pursued not those thoughts that would have led him to it. 13. Ideas of God various in different Men. I grant that if there were any ideas to be found imprinted on the mindsof men, we have reason to expect it should be the notion of his Maker, as a mark God set on his own workmanship, to mind man of his dependenceand duty; and that herein should appear the first instances of humanknowledge. But how late is it before any such notion is discoverable inchildren? And when we find it there, how much more does it resemble theopinion and notion of the teacher, than represent the true God? He thatshall observe in children the progress whereby their minds attain theknowledge they have, will think that the objects they do first and mostfamiliarly converse with are those that make the first impressions ontheir understandings; nor will he find the least footsteps of any other. It is easy to take notice how their thoughts enlarge themselves, only asthey come to be acquainted with a greater variety of sensible objects;to retain the ideas of them in their memories; and to get the skill tocompound and enlarge them, and several ways put them together. How, bythese means, they come to frame in their minds an idea men have of aDeity, I shall hereafter show. 14. Contrary and inconsistent ideas of God under the same name. Can it be thought that the ideas men have of God are the characters andmarks of himself, engraven in their minds by his own finger, when we seethat, in the same country, under one and the same name, men have fardifferent, nay often contrary and inconsistent ideas and conceptions ofhim? Their agreeing in a name, or sound, will scarce prove an innatenotion of him. 15. Gross ideas of God. What true or tolerable notion of a Deity could they have, whoacknowledged and worshipped hundreds? Every deity that they owned aboveone was an infallible evidence of their ignorance of Him, and a proofthat they had no true notion of God, where unity, infinity, andeternity were excluded. To which, if we add their gross conceptionsof corporeity, expressed in their images and representations of theirdeities; the amours, marriages, copulations, lusts, quarrels, and othermean qualities attributed by them to their gods; we shall have littlereason to think that the heathen world, i. E. The greatest part ofmankind, had such ideas of God in their minds as he himself, out of carethat they should not be mistaken about him, was author of. And thisuniversality of consent, so much argued, if it prove any nativeimpressions, it will be only this:--that God imprinted on the minds ofall men speaking the same language, a NAME for himself, but not anyIDEA; since those people who agreed in the name, had, at the same time, far different apprehensions about the thing signified. If they saythat the variety of deities worshipped by the heathen world werebut figurative ways of expressing the several attributes of thatincomprehensible Being, or several parts of his providence, I answer:what they might be in the original I will not here inquire; but thatthey were so in the thoughts of the vulgar I think nobody will affirm. And he that will consult the voyage of the Bishop of Beryte, c. 13, (not to mention other testimonies, ) will find that the theology of theSiamites professedly owns a plurality of gods: or, as the Abbe de Choisymore judiciously remarks in his Journal du Voyage de Siam, 107/177, itconsists properly in acknowledging no God at all. 16. Idea of God notinnate although wise men of all nations come to have it. If it be said, that wise men of all nations came to have trueconceptions of the unity and infinity of the Deity, I grant it. But thenthis, First, excludes universality of consent in anything but the name;for those wise men being very few, perhaps one of a thousand, thisuniversality is very narrow. Secondly, it seems to me plainly to prove, that the truest and bestnotions men have of God were not imprinted, but acquired by thoughtand meditation, and a right use of their faculties: since the wise andconsiderate men of the world, by a right and careful employment of theirthoughts and reason, attained true notions in this as well as otherthings; whilst the lazy and inconsiderate part of men, making far thegreater number, took up their notions by chance, from common traditionand vulgar conceptions, without much beating their heads about them. Andif it be a reason to think the notion of God innate, because all wisemen had it, virtue too must be thought innate; for that also wise menhave always had. 17. Odd, low, and pitiful ideas of God common among men. This was evidently the case of all Gentilism. Nor hath even amongstJews, Christians, and Mahometans, who acknowledged but one God, thisdoctrine, and the care taken in those nations to teach men to have truenotions of a God, prevailed so far as to make men to have the same andthe true ideas of him. How many even amongst us, will be found uponinquiry to fancy him in the shape of a man sitting in heaven; and tohave many other absurd and unfit conceptions of him? Christians aswell as Turks have had whole sects owning and contending earnestly forit, --that the Deity was corporeal, and of human shape: and though wefind few now amongst us who profess themselves Anthropomorphites, (though some I have met with that own it, ) yet I believe he that willmake it his business may find amongst the ignorant and uninstructedChristians many of that opinion. Talk but with country people, almostof any age, or young people almost of any condition, and you shall findthat, though the name of God be frequently in their mouths, yet thenotions they apply this name to are so odd, low, and pitiful, thatnobody can imagine they were taught by a rational man; much less thatthey were characters written by the finger of God himself. Nor do I seehow it derogates more from the goodness of God, that he has given usminds unfurnished with these ideas of himself, than that he hath sent usinto the world with bodies unclothed; and that there is no art or skillborn with us. For, being fitted with faculties to attain these, it iswant of industry and consideration in us, and not of bounty in him, ifwe have them not. It is as certain that there is a God, as that theopposite angles made by the intersection of two straight lines areequal. There was never any rational creature that set himself sincerelyto examine the truth of these propositions that could fail to assent tothem; though yet it be past doubt that there are many men, who, havingnot applied their thoughts that way, are ignorant both of the one andthe other. If any one think fit to call this (which is the utmost ofits extent) UNIVERSAL CONSENT, such an one I easily allow; but such anuniversal consent as this proves not the idea of God, any more than itdoes the idea of such angles, innate. 18. If the Idea of God be not innate, no other can be supposed innate. Since then though the knowledge of a God be the most natural discoveryof human reason, yet the idea of him is not innate, as I think isevident from what has been said; I imagine there will be scarce anyother idea found that can pretend to it. Since if God hath set anyimpression, any character, on the understanding of men, it is mostreasonable to expect it should have been some clear and uniform ideaof Himself; as far as our weak capacities were capable to receive soincomprehensible and infinite an object. But our minds being at firstvoid of that idea which we are most concerned to have, it is a strongpresumption against all other innate characters. I must own, as far asI can observe, I can find none, and would be glad to be informed by anyother. 19. Idea of Substance not innate. I confess there is another idea which would be of general use formankind to have, as it is of general talk as if they had it; and that isthe idea of SUBSTANCE; which we neither have nor can have by sensationor reflection. If nature took care to provide us any ideas, we mightwell expect they should be such as by our own faculties we cannotprocure to ourselves; but we see, on the contrary, that since, by thoseways whereby other ideas are brought into our minds, this is not, wehave no such clear idea at all; and therefore signify nothing by theword SUBSTANCE but only an uncertain supposition of we know not what, i. E. Of something whereof we have no idea, which we take to be thesubstratum, or support, of those ideas we do know. 20. No Propositions can be innate, since no Ideas are innate. Whatever then we talk of innate, either speculative or practical, principles, it may with as much probability be said, that a man hath 100pounds sterling in his pocket, and yet denied that he hath there eitherpenny, shilling, crown, or other coin out of which the sum is to be madeup; as to think that certain PROPOSITIONS are innate when the IDEASabout which they are can by no means be supposed to be so. The generalreception and assent that is given doth not at all prove, that the ideasexpressed in them are innate; for in many cases, however the ideas camethere, the assent to words expressing the agreement or disagreement ofsuch ideas, will necessarily follow. Every one that hath a true idea ofGOD and WORSHIP, will assent to this proposition, 'That God is to beworshipped, ' when expressed in a language he understands; and everyrational man that hath not thought on it to-day, may be ready to assentto this proposition to-morrow; and yet millions of men may be wellsupposed to want one or both those ideas to-day. For, if we will allowsavages, and most country people, to have ideas of God and worship, (which conversation with them will not make one forward to believe, )yet I think few children can be supposed to have those ideas, whichtherefore they must begin to have some time or other; and then they willalso begin to assent to that proposition, and make very little questionof it ever after. But such an assent upon hearing, no more proves theIDEAS to be innate, than it does that one born blind (with cataractswhich will be couched to-morrow) had the innate ideas of the sun, orlight, or saffron, or yellow; because, when his sight is cleared, hewill certainly assent to this proposition, "That the sun is lucid, orthat saffron is yellow. " And therefore, if such an assent upon hearingcannot prove the ideas innate, it can much less the PROPOSITIONS madeup of those ideas. If they have any innate ideas, I would be glad to betold what, and how many, they are. 21. No innate Ideas in the Memory. To which let me add: if there be any innate ideas, any ideas in the mindwhich the mind does not actually think on, they must be lodged in thememory; and from thence must be brought into view by remembrance; i. E. Must be known, when they are remembered, to have been perceptions inthe mind before; unless remembrance can be without remembrance. For, toremember is to perceive anything with memory, or with a consciousnessthat it was perceived or known before. Without this, whatever idea comesinto the mind is new, and not remembered; this consciousness ofits having been in the mind before, being that which distinguishesremembering from all other ways of thinking. Whatever idea was neverPERCEIVED by the mind was never in the mind. Whatever idea is in themind, is, either an actual perception, or else, having been an actualperception, is so in the mind that, by the memory, it can be made anactual perception again. Whenever there is the actual perception of anyidea without memory, the idea appears perfectly new and unknown beforeto the understanding. Whenever the memory brings any idea into actualview, it is with a consciousness that it had been there before, and wasnot wholly a stranger to the mind. Whether this be not so, I appealto every one's observation. And then I desire an instance of an idea, pretended to be innate, which (before any impression of it by wayshereafter to be mentioned) any one could revive and remember, as anidea he had formerly known; without which consciousness of a formerperception there is no remembrance; and whatever idea comes into themind without THAT consciousness is not remembered, or comes not out ofthe memory, nor can be said to be in the mind before that appearance. For what is not either actually in view or in the memory, is in the mindno way at all, and is all one as if it had never been there. Suppose achild had the use of his eyes till he knows and distinguishes colours;but then cataracts shut the windows, and he is forty or fifty yearsperfectly in the dark; and in that time perfectly loses all memory ofthe ideas of colours he once had. This was the case of a blind man Ionce talked with, who lost his sight by the small-pox when he was achild, and had no more notion of colours than one born blind. I askwhether any one can say this man had then any ideas of colours in hismind, any more than one born blind? And I think nobody will say thateither of them had in his mind any ideas of colours at all. Hiscataracts are couched, and then he has the ideas (which he remembersnot) of colours, DE NOVO, by his restored sight, conveyed to his mind, and that without any consciousness of a former acquaintance. And thesenow he can revive and call to mind in the dark. In this case allthese ideas of colours which, when out of view, can be revived with aconsciousness of a former acquaintance, being thus in the memory, aresaid to be in the mind. The use I make of this is, --that whatever idea, being not actually in view, is in the mind, is there only by being inthe memory; and if it be not in the memory, it is not in the mind; andif it be in the memory, it cannot by the memory be brought into actualview without a perception that it comes out of the memory; which isthis, that it had been known before, and is now remembered. If thereforethere be any innate ideas, they must be in the memory, or else nowherein the mind; and if they be in the memory, they can be revived withoutany impression from without; and whenever they are brought into the mindthey are remembered, i. E. They bring with them a perception of theirnot being wholly new to it. This being a constant and distinguishingdifference between what is, and what is not in the memory, or in themind;--that what is not in the memory, whenever it appears there, appears perfectly new and unknown before; and what is in the memory, orin the mind, whenever it is suggested by the memory, appears not to benew, but the mind finds it in itself, and knows it was there before. By this it may be tried whether there be any innate ideas in the mindbefore impression from sensation or reflection. I would fain meet withthe man who, when he came to the use of reason, or at any other time, remembered any of them; and to whom, after he was born, they were nevernew. If any one will say, there are ideas in the mind that are NOT inthe memory, I desire him to explain himself, and make what he saysintelligible. 22. Principles not innate, because of little use or little certainty. Besides what I have already said, there is another reason why I doubtthat neither these nor any other principles are innate. I that am fullypersuaded that the infinitely wise God made all things in perfectwisdom, cannot satisfy myself why he should be supposed to print uponthe minds of men some universal principles; whereof those that arepretended innate, and concern SPECULATION, are of no great use; andthose that concern PRACTICE, not self-evident; and neither of themdistinguishable from some other truths not allowed to be innate. For, towhat purpose should characters be graven on the mind by the fingerof God, which are not clearer there than those which are afterwardsintroduced, or cannot be distinguished from them? If any one thinksthere are such innate ideas and propositions, which by their clearnessand usefulness are distinguishable from all that is adventitious in themind and acquired, it will not be a hard matter for him to tell us WHICHTHEY ARE; and then every one will be a fit judge whether they be soor no. Since if there be such innate ideas and impressions, plainlydifferent from all other perceptions and knowledge, every one will findit true in himself. Of the evidence of these supposed innate maxims, Ihave spoken already: of their usefulness I shall have occasion to speakmore hereafter. 23. Difference of Men's Discoveries depends upon the differentApplication of their Faculties. To conclude: some ideas forwardly offer themselves to all men'sunderstanding; and some sorts of truths result from any ideas, as soonas the mind puts them into propositions: other truths require a train ofideas placed in order, a due comparing of them, and deductions made withattention, before they can be discovered and assented to. Some of thefirst sort, because of their general and easy reception, have beenmistaken for innate: but the truth is, ideas and notions are no moreborn with us than arts and sciences; though some of them indeed offerthemselves to our faculties more readily than others; and therefore aremore generally received: though that too be according as the organs ofour bodies and powers of our minds happen to be employed; God havingfitted men with faculties and means to discover, receive, and retaintruths, according as they are employed. The great difference that is tobe found in the notions of mankind is, from the different use they puttheir faculties to. Whilst some (and those the most) taking things upontrust, misemploy their power of assent, by lazily enslaving their mindsto the dictates and dominion of others, in doctrines which it is theirduty carefully to examine, and not blindly, with an implicit faith, toswallow; others, employing their thoughts only about some few things, grow acquainted sufficiently with them, attain great degrees ofknowledge in them, and are ignorant of all other, having never let theirthoughts loose in the search of other inquiries. Thus, that the threeangles of a triangle are quite equal to two right ones is a truth ascertain as anything can be, and I think more evident than many of thosepropositions that go for principles; and yet there are millions, howeverexpert in other things, who know not this at all, because they never settheir thoughts on work about such angles. And he that certainly knowsthis proposition may yet be utterly ignorant of the truth of otherpropositions, in mathematics itself, which are as clear and evident asthis; because, in his search of those mathematical truths, he stoppedhis thoughts short and went not so far. The same may happen concerningthe notions we have of the being of a Deity. For, though there be notruth which a man may more evidently make out to himself than theexistence of a God, yet he that shall content himself with things ashe finds them in this world, as they minister to his pleasures andpassions, and not make inquiry a little further into their causes, ends, and admirable contrivances, and pursue the thoughts thereof withdiligence and attention, may live long without any notion of such aBeing. And if any person hath by talk put such a notion into his head, he may perhaps believe it; but if he hath never examined it, hisknowledge of it will be no perfecter than his, who having been told, that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right ones, takesit upon trust, without examining the demonstration; and may yield hisassent as a probable opinion, but hath no knowledge of the truth of it;which yet his faculties, if carefully employed, were able to make clearand evident to him. But this only, by the by, to show how much OURKNOWLEDGE DEPENDS UPON THE RIGHT USE OF THOSE POWERS NATURE HATHBESTOWED UPON US, and how little upon SUCH INNATE PRINCIPLES AS ARE INVAIN SUPPOSED TO BE IN ALL MANKIND FOR THEIR DIRECTION; which all mencould not but know if they were there, or else they would be there to nopurpose. And which since all men do not know, nor can distinguish fromother adventitious truths, we may well conclude there are no such. 24. Men must think and know for themselves. What censure doubting thus of innate principles may deserve from men, who will be apt to call it pulling up the old foundations of knowledgeand certainty, I cannot tell;--I persuade myself at least that theway I have pursued, being conformable to truth, lays those foundationssurer. This I am certain, I have not made it my business either to quitor follow any authority in the ensuing Discourse. Truth has been myonly aim; and wherever that has appeared to lead, my thoughts haveimpartially followed, without minding whether the footsteps of anyother lay that way or not. Not that I want a due respect to other men'sopinions; but, after all, the greatest reverence is due to truth: andI hope it will not be thought arrogance to say, that perhaps we shouldmake greater progress in the discovery of rational and contemplativeknowledge, if we sought it in the fountain, IN THE CONSIDERATION OFTHINGS THEMSELVES; and made use rather of our own thoughts than othermen's to find it. For I think we may as rationally hope to see withother men's eyes, as to know by other men's understandings. So much aswe ourselves consider and comprehend of truth and reason, so much wepossess of real and true knowledge. The floating of other men's opinionsin our brains, makes us not one jot the more knowing, though they happento be true. What in them was science, is in us but opiniatrety; whilstwe give up our assent only to reverend names, and do not, as theydid, employ our own reason to understand those truths which gave themreputation. Aristotle was certainly a knowing man, but nobody everthought him so because he blindly embraced, and confidently vented theopinions of another. And if the taking up of another's principles, without examining them, made not him a philosopher, I suppose it willhardly make anybody else so. In the sciences, every one has so much ashe really knows and comprehends. What he believes only, and takes upontrust, are but shreds; which, however well in the whole piece, makeno considerable addition to his stock who gathers them. Such borrowedwealth, like fairy money, though it were gold in the hand from which hereceived it, will be but leaves and dust when it comes to use. 25. Whence the Opinion of Innate Principles. When men have found some general propositions that could not be doubtedof as soon as understood, it was, I know, a short and easy way toconclude them innate. This being once received, it eased the lazy fromthe pains of search, and stopped the inquiry of the doubtful concerningall that was once styled innate. And it was of no small advantageto those who affected to be masters and teachers, to make this theprinciple of principles, --THAT PRINCIPLES MUST NOT BE QUESTIONED. For, having once established this tenet, --that there are innate principles, it put their followers upon a necessity of receiving SOME doctrines assuch; which was to take them off from the use of their own reason andjudgment, and put them on believing and taking them upon trust withoutfurther examination: in which posture of blind credulity, they might bemore easily governed by, and made useful to some sort of men, who hadthe skill and office to principle and guide them. Nor is it a smallpower it gives one man over another, to have the authority to be thedictator of principles, and teacher of unquestionable truths; and tomake a man swallow that for an innate principle which may serve to hispurpose who teacheth them. Whereas had they examined the ways wherebymen came to the knowledge of many universal truths, they would havefound them to result in the minds of men from the being of thingsthemselves, when duly considered; and that they were discovered by theapplication of those faculties that were fitted by nature to receive andjudge of them, when duly employed about them. 26. Conclusion. To show HOW the understanding proceeds herein is the design of thefollowing Discourse; which I shall proceed to when I have firstpremised, that hitherto, --to clear my way to those foundations which Iconceive are the only true ones, whereon to establish those notions wecan have of our own knowledge, --it hath been necessary for me to give anaccount of the reasons I had to doubt of innate principles. And sincethe arguments which are against them do, some of them, rise from commonreceived opinions, I have been forced to take several things forgranted; which is hardly avoidable to any one, whose task is to show thefalsehood or improbability of any tenet;--it happening in controversialdiscourses as it does in assaulting of towns; where, if the ground bebut firm whereon the batteries are erected, there is no further inquiryof whom it is borrowed, nor whom it belongs to, so it affords but a fitrise for the present purpose. But in the future part of this Discourse, designing to raise an edifice uniform and consistent with itself, as faras my own experience and observation will assist me, I hope to erectit on such a basis that I shall not need to shore it up with props andbuttresses, leaning on borrowed or begged foundations: or at least, ifmine prove a castle in the air, I will endeavour it shall be all ofa piece and hang together. Wherein I warn the reader not to expectundeniable cogent demonstrations, unless I may be allowed the privilege, not seldom assumed by others, to take my principles for granted; andthen, I doubt not, but I can demonstrate too. All that I shall say forthe principles I proceed on is, that I can only appeal to men's ownunprejudiced experience and observation whether they be true or not; andthis is enough for a man who professes no more than to lay down candidlyand freely his own conjectures, concerning a subject lying somewhatin the dark, without any other design than an unbiassed inquiry aftertruth. BOOK II OF IDEAS CHAPTER I. OF IDEAS IN GENERAL, AND THEIR ORIGINAL. 1. Idea is the Object of Thinking. Every man being conscious to himself that he thinks; and that which hismind is applied about whilst thinking being the IDEAS that are there, itis past doubt that men have in their minds several ideas, --such as arethose expressed by the words whiteness, hardness, sweetness, thinking, motion, man, elephant, army, drunkenness, and others: it is in the firstplace then to be inquired, HOW HE COMES BY THEM? I know it is a received doctrine, that men have native ideas, andoriginal characters, stamped upon their minds in their very first being. This opinion I have at large examined already; and, I suppose what Ihave said in the foregoing Book will be much more easily admitted, whenI have shown whence the understanding may get all the ideas it has; andby what ways and degrees they may come into the mind;--for which Ishall appeal to every one's own observation and experience. 2. All Ideas come from Sensation or Reflection. Let us then suppose the mind to be, as we say, white paper, void of allcharacters, without any ideas:--How comes it to be furnished? Whencecomes it by that vast store which the busy and boundless fancy of manhas painted on it with an almost endless variety? Whence has it all theMATERIALS of reason and knowledge? To this I answer, in one word, fromEXPERIENCE. In that all our knowledge is founded; and from that itultimately derives itself. Our observation employed either, aboutexternal sensible objects, or about the internal operations of our mindsperceived and reflected on by ourselves, is that which supplies ourunderstandings with all the MATERIALS of thinking. These two are thefountains of knowledge, from whence all the ideas we have, or cannaturally have, do spring. 3. The Objects of Sensation one Source of Ideas First, our Senses, conversant about particular sensible objects, doconvey into the mind several distinct perceptions of things, accordingto those various ways wherein those objects do affect them. And thus wecome by those IDEAS we have of yellow, white, heat, cold, soft, hard, bitter, sweet, and all those which we call sensible qualities; whichwhen I say the senses convey into the mind, I mean, they from externalobjects convey into the mind what produces there those perceptions. Thisgreat source of most of the ideas we have, depending wholly upon oursenses, and derived by them to the understanding, I call SENSATION. 4. The Operations of our Minds, the other Source of them. Secondly, the other fountain from which experience furnisheth theunderstanding with ideas is, --the perception of the operations of ourown mind within us, as it is employed about the ideas it has got;--whichoperations, when the soul comes to reflect on and consider, do furnishthe understanding with another set of ideas, which could not be had fromthings without. And such are perception, thinking, doubting, believing, reasoning, knowing, willing, and all the different actings of our ownminds;--which we being conscious of, and observing in ourselves, do fromthese receive into our understandings as distinct ideas as we do frombodies affecting our senses. This source of ideas every man has whollyin himself; and though it be not sense, as having nothing to do withexternal objects, yet it is very like it, and might properly enough becalled INTERNAL SENSE. But as I call the other Sensation, so I call thisREFLECTION, the ideas it affords being such only as the mind gets byreflecting on its own operations within itself. By reflection then, inthe following part of this discourse, I would be understood to mean, that notice which the mind takes of its own operations, and the mannerof them, by reason whereof there come to be ideas of these operations inthe understanding. These two, I say, viz. External material things, asthe objects of SENSATION, and the operations of our own minds within, asthe objects of REFLECTION, are to me the only originals from whence allour ideas take their beginnings. The term OPERATIONS here I use in alarge sense, as comprehending not barely the actions of the mind aboutits ideas, but some sort of passions arising sometimes from them, suchas is the satisfaction or uneasiness arising from any thought. 5. All our Ideas are of the one or of the other of these. The understanding seems to me not to have the least glimmering of anyideas which it doth not receive from one of these two. EXTERNAL OBJECTSfurnish the mind with the ideas of sensible qualities, which are allthose different perceptions they produce in us; and THE MIND furnishesthe understanding with ideas of its own operations. These, when we have taken a full survey of them, and their severalmodes, and the compositions made out of them we shall find to containall our whole stock of ideas; and that we have nothing in our mindswhich did not come in one of these two ways. Let any one examine his ownthoughts, and thoroughly search into his understanding; and then let himtell me, whether all the original ideas he has there, are any otherthan of the objects of his senses, or of the operations of his mind, considered as objects of his reflection. And how great a mass ofknowledge soever he imagines to be lodged there, he will, upon taking astrict view, see that he has not any idea in his mind but what oneof these two have imprinted;--though perhaps, with infinite varietycompounded and enlarged by the understanding, as we shall see hereafter. 6. Observable in Children. He that attentively considers the state of a child, at his first cominginto the world, will have little reason to think him stored with plentyof ideas, that are to be the matter of his future knowledge. It is BYDEGREES he comes to be furnished with them. And though the ideas ofobvious and familiar qualities imprint themselves before the memorybegins to keep a register of time or order, yet it is often so latebefore some unusual qualities come in the way, that there are few menthat cannot recollect the beginning of their acquaintance with them. Andif it were worth while, no doubt a child might be so ordered as to havebut a very few, even of the ordinary ideas, till he were grown up to aman. But all that are born into the world, being surrounded with bodiesthat perpetually and diversely affect them, variety of ideas, whethercare be taken of it or not, are imprinted on the minds of children. Light and colours are busy at hand everywhere, when the eye is but open;sounds and some tangible qualities fail not to solicit their propersenses, and force an entrance to the mind;--but yet, I think, it will begranted easily, that if a child were kept in a place where he never sawany other but black and white till he were a man, he would have no moreideas of scarlet or green, than he that from his childhood never tastedan oyster, or a pine-apple, has of those particular relishes. 7. Men are differently furnished with these, according to the differentObjects they converse with. Men then come to be furnished with fewer or more simple ideas fromwithout, according as the objects they converse with afford greater orless variety; and from the operations of their minds within, accordingas they more or less reflect on them. For, though he that contemplatesthe operations of his mind, cannot but have plain and clear ideas ofthem; yet, unless he turn his thoughts that way, and considers themATTENTIVELY, he will no more have clear and distinct ideas of all theoperations of his mind, and all that may be observed therein, than hewill have all the particular ideas of any landscape, or of the parts andmotions of a clock, who will not turn his eyes to it, and with attentionheed all the parts of it. The picture, or clock may be so placed, thatthey may come in his way every day; but yet he will have but a confusedidea of all the parts they are made up of, till he applies himself withattention, to consider them each in particular. 8. Ideas of Reflection later, because they need Attention. And hence we see the reason why it is pretty late before most childrenget ideas of the operations of their own minds; and some have not anyvery clear or perfect ideas of the greatest part of them all theirlives. Because, though they pass there continually, yet, like floatingvisions, they make not deep impressions enough to leave in their mindclear, distinct, lasting ideas, till the understanding turns inward uponitself, reflects on its own operations, and makes them the objectsof its own contemplation. Children when they come first into it, aresurrounded with a world of new things which, by a constant solicitationof their senses, draw the mind constantly to them; forward to takenotice of new, and apt to be delighted with the variety of changingobjects. Thus the first years are usually employed and diverted inlooking abroad. Men's business in them is to acquaint themselves withwhat is to be found without; and so growing up in a constant attentionto outward sensations, seldom make any considerable reflection on whatpasses within them, till they come to be of riper years; and some scarceever at all. 9. The Soul begins to have Ideas when it begins to perceive. To ask, at what TIME a man has first any ideas, is to ask, when hebegins to perceive;--HAVING IDEAS, and PERCEPTION, being the same thing. I know it is an opinion, that the soul always thinks, and that it hasthe actual perception of ideas in itself constantly, as long as itexists; and that actual thinking is as inseparable from the soul asactual extension is from the body; which if true, to inquire after thebeginning of a man's ideas is the same as to inquire after the beginningof his soul. For, by this account, soul and its ideas, as body and itsextension, will begin to exist both at the same time. 10. The Soul thinks not always; for this wants Proofs. But whether the soul be supposed to exist antecedent to, or coevalwith, or some time after the first rudiments of organization, or thebeginnings of life in the body, I leave to be disputed by those who havebetter thought of that matter. I confess myself to have one of thosedull souls, that doth not perceive itself always to contemplate ideas;nor can conceive it any more necessary for the soul always to think, than for the body always to move: the perception of ideas being (as Iconceive) to the soul, what motion is to the body; not its essence, butone of its operations. And therefore, though thinking be supposed neverso much the proper action of the soul, yet it is not necessary tosuppose that it should be always thinking, always in action. That, perhaps, is the privilege of the infinite Author and Preserver of allthings, who "never slumbers nor sleeps"; but is not competent to anyfinite being, at least not to the soul of man. We know certainly, byexperience, that we SOMETIMES think; and thence draw this infallibleconsequence, --that there is something in us that has a power to think. But whether that substance PERPETUALLY thinks or no, we can be nofurther assured than experience informs us. For, to say that actualthinking is essential to the soul, and inseparable from it, is to begwhat is in question, and not to prove it by reason;--which is necessaryto be done, if it be not a self-evident proposition But whether this, "That the soul always thinks, " be a self-evident proposition, thateverybody assents to at first hearing, I appeal to mankind. It isdoubted whether I thought at all last night or no. The question beingabout a matter of fact, it is begging it to bring, as a proof for it, an hypothesis, which is the very thing in dispute: by which way one mayprove anything, and it is but supposing that all watches, whilst thebalance beats, think, and it is sufficiently proved, and past doubt, that my watch thought all last night. But he that would not deceivehimself, ought to build his hypothesis on matter of fact, and make itout by sensible experience, and not presume on matter of fact, becauseof his hypothesis, that is, because he supposes it to be so; which wayof proving amounts to this, that I must necessarily think all lastnight, because another supposes I always think, though I myself cannotperceive that I always do so. But men in love with their opinions may not only suppose what is inquestion, but allege wrong matter of fact. How else could any onemake it an inference of mine, that a thing is not, because we are notsensible of it in our sleep? I do not say there is no SOUL in a man, because he is not sensible of it in his sleep; but I do say, he cannotTHINK at any time, waking or sleeping, without being sensible of it. Ourbeing sensible of it is not necessary to anything but to our thoughts;and to them it is; and to them it always will be necessary, till we canthink without being conscious of it. 11. It is not always conscious of it. I grant that the soul, in a waking man, is never without thought, because it is the condition of being awake. But whether sleeping withoutdreaming be not an affection of the whole man, mind as well as body, maybe worth a waking man's consideration; it being hard to conceive thatanything should think and not be conscious of it. If the soul doth thinkin a sleeping man without being conscious of it, I ask whether, duringsuch thinking, it has any pleasure or pain, or be capable of happinessor misery? I am sure the man is not; no more than the bed or earth helies on. For to be happy or miserable without being conscious of it, seems to me utterly inconsistent and impossible. Or if it be possiblethat the SOUL can, whilst the body is sleeping, have its thinking, enjoyments, and concerns, its pleasures or pain, apart, which the MAN isnot conscious of nor partakes in, --it is certain that Socrates asleepand Socrates awake is not the same person; but his soul when he sleeps, and Socrates the man, consisting of body and soul, when he is waking, are two persons: since waking Socrates has no knowledge of, orconcernment for that happiness or misery of his soul, which it enjoysalone by itself whilst he sleeps, without perceiving anything of it; nomore than he has for the happiness or misery of a man in the Indies, whom he knows not. For, if we take wholly away all consciousness ofour actions and sensations, especially of pleasure and pain, and theconcernment that accompanies it, it will be hard to know wherein toplace personal identity. 12. If a sleeping Man thinks without knowing it, the sleeping andwaking Man are two Persons. The soul, during sound sleep, thinks, say these men. Whilst it thinksand perceives, it is capable certainly of those of delight or trouble, as well as any other perceptions; and IT must necessarily be CONSCIOUSof its own perceptions. But it has all this apart: the sleeping MAN, itis plain, is conscious of nothing of all this. Let us suppose, then, thesoul of Castor, while he is sleeping, retired from his body; which isno impossible supposition for the men I have here to do with, who soliberally allow life, without a thinking soul, to all other animals. These men cannot then judge it impossible, or a contradiction, that thebody should live without the soul; nor that the soul should subsistand think, or have perception, even perception of happiness or misery, without the body. Let us then, I say, suppose the soul of Castorseparated during his sleep from his body, to think apart. Let ussuppose, too, that it chooses for its scene of thinking the body ofanother man, v. G. Pollux, who is sleeping without a soul. For, ifCastor's soul can think, whilst Castor is asleep, what Castor is neverconscious of, it is no matter what PLACE it chooses to think in. We havehere, then, the bodies of two men with only one soul between them, whichwe will suppose to sleep and wake by turns; and the soul still thinkingin the waking man, whereof the sleeping man is never conscious, hasnever the least perception. I ask, then, whether Castor and Pollux, thuswith only one soul between them, which thinks and perceives in one whatthe other is never conscious of, nor is concerned for, are not two asdistinct PERSONS as Castor and Hercules, or as Socrates and Plato were?And whether one of them might not be very happy, and the other verymiserable? Just by the same reason, they make the soul and the man twopersons, who make the soul think apart what the man is not conscious of. For, I suppose nobody will make identity of persons to consist in thesoul's being united to the very same numerical particles of matter. For if that be necessary to identity, it will be impossible, in thatconstant flux of the particles of our bodies, that any man should be thesame person two days, or two moments, together. 13. Impossible to convince those that sleep without dreaming, that theythink. Thus, methinks, every drowsy nod shakes their doctrine, who teach thatthe soul is always thinking. Those, at least, who do at any time SLEEPWITHOUT DREAMING, can never be convinced that their thoughts aresometimes for four hours busy without their knowing of it; and ifthey are taken in the very act, waked in the middle of that sleepingcontemplation, can give no manner of account of it. 14. That men dream without remembering it, in vain urged. It will perhaps be said, --That the soul thinks even in the soundestsleep, but the MEMORY retains it not. That the soul in a sleeping manshould be this moment busy a thinking, and the next moment in a wakingman not remember nor be able to recollect one jot of all those thoughts, is very hard to be conceived, and would need some better proof than bareassertion to make it be believed. For who can without any more ado, butbeing barely told so, imagine that the greatest part of men do, duringall their lives, for several hours every day, think of something, whichif they were asked, even in the middle of these thoughts, they couldremember nothing at all of? Most men, I think, pass a great part oftheir sleep without dreaming. I once knew a man that was bred a scholar, and had no bad memory, who told me he had never dreamed in his life, till he had that fever he was then newly recovered of, which was aboutthe five or six and twentieth year of his age. I suppose the worldaffords more such instances: at least every one's acquaintance willfurnish him with examples enough of such as pass most of their nightswithout dreaming. 15. Upon this Hypothesis, the Thoughts of a sleeping Man ought to bemost rational. To think often, and never to retain it so much as one moment, is a veryuseless sort of thinking; and the soul, in such a state of thinking, does very little, if at all, excel that of a looking-glass, whichconstantly receives variety of images, or ideas, but retains none;they disappear and vanish, and there remain no footsteps of them; thelooking-glass is never the better for such ideas, nor the soul for, such thoughts. Perhaps it will be said, that in a waking MAN thematerials of the body are employed, and made use of, in thinking; andthat the memory of thoughts is retained by the impressions that are madeon the brain, and the traces there left after such thinking; but thatin the thinking of the SOUL, which is not perceived in a sleeping man, there the soul thinks apart, and making no use of the organs of thebody, leaves no impressions on it, and consequently no memory of suchthoughts. Not to mention again the absurdity of two distinct persons, which follows from this supposition, I answer, further, --That whateverideas the mind can receive and contemplate without the help of the body, it is reasonable to conclude it can retain without the help of the bodytoo; or else the soul, or any separate spirit, will have but littleadvantage by thinking. If it has no memory of its own thoughts; if itcannot lay them up for its own use, and be able to recall them uponoccasion; if it cannot reflect upon what is past, and make use of itsformer experiences, reasonings, and contemplations, to what, purposedoes it think? They who make the soul a thinking thing, at this rate, will not make it a much more noble being than those do whom theycondemn, for allowing it to be nothing but the subtilist parts ofmatter. Characters drawn on dust, that the first breath of windeffaces; or impressions made on a heap of atoms, or animal spirits, arealtogether as useful, and render the subject as noble, as the thoughtsof a soul that perish in thinking; that, once out of sight, are gone forever, and leave no memory of themselves behind them. Nature never makesexcellent things for mean or no uses: and it is hardly to be conceivedthat our infinitely wise Creator should make so admirable a faculty asthe power of thinking, that faculty which comes nearest the excellencyof his own incomprehensible being, to be so idly and uselessly employed, at least a fourth part of its time here, as to think constantly, withoutremembering any of those thoughts, without doing any good to itself orothers, or being any way useful to any other part of the creation. If wewill examine it, we shall not find, I suppose, the motion of dull andsenseless matter, any where in the universe, made so little use of andso wholly thrown away. 16. On this Hypothesis, the Soul must have Ideas not derived fromSensation or Reflection, of which there is no Appearance. It is true, we have sometimes instances of perception whilst we areasleep, and retain the memory of those thoughts: but how extravagant andincoherent for the most part they are; how little conformable to theperfection and order of a rational being, those who are acquaintedwith dreams need not be told. This I would willingly be satisfiedin, --whether the soul, when it thinks thus apart, and as it wereseparate from the body, acts less rationally than when conjointly withit, or no. If its separate thoughts be less rational, then these menmust say, that the soul owes the perfection of rational thinking to thebody: if it does not, it is a wonder that our dreams should be, for themost part, so frivolous and irrational; and that the soul should retainnone of its more rational soliloquies and meditations. 17. If I think when I know it not, nobody else can know it. Those who so confidently tell us that the soul always actually thinks, Iwould they would also tell us, what those ideas are that are in the soulof a child, before or just at the union with the body, before it hathreceived any by sensation. The dreams of sleeping men are, as I take it, all made up of the waking man's ideas; though for the most part oddlyput together. It is strange, if the soul has ideas of its own thatit derived not from sensation or reflection, (as it must have, if itthought before it received any impressions from the body, ) that itshould never, in its private thinking, (so private, that the man himselfperceives it not, ) retain any of them the very moment it wakes out ofthem, and then make the man glad with new discoveries. Who can find itreason that the soul should, in its retirement during sleep, have somany hours' thoughts, and yet never light on any of those ideas itborrowed not from sensation or reflection; or at least preserve thememory of none but such, which, being occasioned from the body, mustneeds be less natural to a spirit? It is strange the soul should neveronce in a man's whole life recall over any of its pure native thoughts, and those ideas it had before it borrowed anything from the body; neverbring into the waking man's view any other ideas but what have a tang ofthe cask, and manifestly derive their original from that union. If italways thinks, and so had ideas before it was united, or before itreceived any from the body, it is not to be supposed but that duringsleep it recollects its native ideas; and during that retirement fromcommunicating with the body, whilst it thinks by itself, the ideas itis busied about should be, sometimes at least, those more natural andcongenial ones which it had in itself, underived from the body, or itsown operations about them: which, since the waking man never remembers, we must from this hypothesis conclude either that the soul rememberssomething that the man does not; or else that memory belongs only tosuch ideas as are derived from the body, or the mind's operations aboutthem. 18. How knows any one that the Soul always thinks? For if it be not aself-evident Proposition, it needs Proof. I would be glad also to learn from these men who so confidentlypronounce that the human soul, or, which is all one, that a man alwaysthinks, how they come to know it; nay, how they come to know that theythemselves think, when they themselves do not perceive it. This, I amafraid, is to be sure without proofs, and to know without perceiving. Itis, I suspect, a confused notion, taken up to serve an hypothesis; andnone of those clear truths, that either their own evidence forces us toadmit, or common experience makes it impudence to deny. For the mostthat can be said of it is, that it is possible the soul may alwaysthink, but not always retain it in memory. And I say, it is as possiblethat the soul may not always think; and much more probable that itshould sometimes not think, than that it should often think, and thata long while together, and not be conscious to itself, the next momentafter, that it had thought. 19. That a Man should be busy in Thinking, and yet not retain it thenext moment, very improbable. To suppose the soul to think, and the man not to perceive it, is, as hasbeen said, to make two persons in one man. And if one considers wellthese men's way of speaking, one should be led into a suspicion thatthey do so. For those who tell us that the SOUL always thinks, do never, that I remember, say that a MAN always thinks. Can the soul think, andnot the man? Or a man think, and not be conscious of it? This, perhaps, would be suspected of jargon in others. If they say the man thinksalways, but is not always conscious of it, they may as well say his bodyis extended without having parts. For it is altogether as intelligibleto say that a body is extended without parts, as that anything thinkswithout being conscious of it, or perceiving that it does so. Theywho talk thus may, with as much reason, if it be necessary to theirhypothesis, say that a man is always hungry, but that he does not alwaysfeel it; whereas hunger consists in that very sensation, as thinkingconsists in being conscious that one thinks. If they say that a manis always conscious to himself of thinking, I ask, How they know it?Consciousness is the perception of what passes in a man's own mind. Cananother man perceive that I am conscious of anything, when I perceive itnot myself? No man's knowledge here can go beyond his experience. Wake aman out of a sound sleep, and ask him what he was that moment thinkingof. If he himself be conscious of nothing he then thought on, he must bea notable diviner of thoughts that can assure him that he was thinking. May he not, with more reason, assure him he was not asleep? This issomething beyond philosophy; and it cannot be less than revelation, thatdiscovers to another thoughts in my mind, when I can find none theremyself. And they must needs have a penetrating sight who can certainlysee that I think, when I cannot perceive it myself, and when I declarethat I do not; and yet can see that dogs or elephants do not think, whenthey give all the demonstration of it imaginable, except only tellingus that they do so. This some may suspect to be a step beyond theRosicrucians; it seeming easier to make one's self invisible to others, than to make another's thoughts visible to me, which are not visible tohimself. But it is but defining the soul to be "a substance thatalways thinks, " and the business is done. If such definition be of anyauthority, I know not what it can serve for but to make many men suspectthat they have no souls at all; since they find a good part of theirlives pass away without thinking. For no definitions that I know, nosuppositions of any sect, are of force enough to destroy constantexperience; and perhaps it is the affectation of knowing beyond what weperceive, that makes so much useless dispute and noise in the world. 20. No ideas but from Sensation and Reflection, evident, if we observeChildren. I see no reason, therefore, to believe that the soul thinks beforethe senses have furnished it with ideas to think on; and as those areincreased and retained, so it comes, by exercise, to improve its facultyof thinking in the several parts of it; as well as, afterwards, bycompounding those ideas, and reflecting on its own operations, itincreases its stock, as well as facility in remembering, imagining, reasoning, and other modes of thinking. 21. State of a child on the mother's womb. He that will suffer himself to be informed by observation andexperience, and not make his own hypothesis the rule of nature, willfind few signs of a soul accustomed to much thinking in a new-bornchild, and much fewer of any reasoning at all. And yet it is hard toimagine that the rational soul should think so much, and not reason atall, And he that will consider that infants newly come into the worldspend the greatest part of their time in sleep, and are seldom awakebut when either hunger calls for the teat, or some pain (the mostimportunate of all sensations), or some other violent impression on thebody, forces the mind to perceive and attend to it;--he, I say, whoconsiders this, will perhaps find reason to imagine that a FOETUS in themother's womb differs not much from the state of a vegetable, but passesthe greatest part of its time without perception or thought; doing verylittle but sleep in a place where it needs not seek for food, and issurrounded with liquor, always equally soft, and near of the sametemper; where the eyes have no light, and the ears so shut up are notvery susceptible of sounds; and where there is little or no variety, orchange of objects, to move the senses. 22. The mind thinks in proportion to the matter it gets from experienceto think about. Follow a child from its birth, and observe the alterations that timemakes, and you shall find, as the mind by the senses comes more and moreto be furnished with ideas, it comes to be more and more awake; thinksmore, the more it has matter to think on. After some time it begins toknow the objects which, being most familiar with it, have made lastingimpressions. Thus it comes by degrees to know the persons it dailyconverses with, and distinguishes them from strangers; which areinstances and effects of its coming to retain and distinguish the ideasthe senses convey to it. And so we may observe how the mind, BY DEGREES, improves in these; and ADVANCES to the exercise of those other facultiesof enlarging, compounding, and abstracting its ideas, and of reasoningabout them, and reflecting upon all these; of which I shall haveoccasion to speak more hereafter. 23. A man begins to have ideas when he first has sensation. Whatsensation is. If it shall be demanded then, WHEN a man BEGINS to have any ideas, Ithink the true answer is, --WHEN HE FIRST HAS ANY SENSATION. For, sincethere appear not to be any ideas in the mind before the senses haveconveyed any in, I conceive that ideas in the understanding are coevalwith SENSATION; WHICH IS SUCH AN IMPRESSION OR MOTION MADE IN SOME PARTOF THE BODY, AS MAKES IT BE TAKEN NOTICE OF IN THE UNDERSTANDING. 24. The Original of all our Knowledge. The impressions then that are made on our sense by outward objectsthat are extrinsical to the mind; and its own operations about theseimpressions, reflected on by itself, as proper objects to be contemplatedby it, are, I conceive, the original of all knowledge. Thus the firstcapacity of human intellect is, --that the mind is fitted to receive theimpressions made on it; either through the senses by outward objects, orby its own operations when it reflects on them. This is the first step aman makes towards the discovery of anything, and the groundwork whereonto build all those notions which ever he shall have naturally in thisworld. All those sublime thoughts which tower above the clouds, andreach as high as heaven itself, take their rise and footing here: in allthat great extent wherein the mind wanders, in those remote speculationsit may seem to be elevated with, it stirs not one jot beyond those ideaswhich SENSE or REFLECTION have offered for its contemplation. 25. In the Reception of simple Ideas, the Understanding is for the mostpart passive. In this part the understanding is merely passive; and whether or no itwill have these beginnings, and as it were materials of knowledge, isnot in its own power. For the objects of our senses do, many of them, obtrude their particular ideas upon our minds whether we will or not;and the operations of our minds will not let us be without, at least, some obscure notions of them. No man can be wholly ignorant of what hedoes when he thinks. These simple ideas, when offered to the mind, the understanding can no more refuse to have, nor alter when they areimprinted, nor blot them out and make new ones itself, than a mirror canrefuse, alter, or obliterate the images or ideas which the objectsset before it do therein produce. As the bodies that surround usdo diversely affect our organs, the mind is forced to receive theimpressions; and cannot avoid the perception of those ideas that areannexed to them. CHAPTER II. OF SIMPLE IDEAS. 1. Uncompounded Appearances. The better to understand the nature, manner, and extent of ourknowledge, one thing is carefully to be observed concerning the ideas wehave; and that is, that some of them, are SIMPLE and some COMPLEX. Though the qualities that affect our senses are, in the thingsthemselves, so united and blended, that there is no separation, nodistance between them; yet it is plain, the ideas they produce in themind enter by the senses simple; and unmixed. For, though the sight andtouch often take in from the same object, at the same time, differentideas;--as a man sees at once motion and colour; the hand feels softnessand warmth in the same piece of wax: yet the simple ideas thus unitedin the same subject, are as perfectly distinct as those that come in bydifferent senses. The coldness and hardness which a man feels in a pieceof ice being as distinct ideas in the mind as the smell and whitenessof a lily; or as the taste of sugar, and smell of a rose. And there isnothing can be plainer to a man than the clear and distinct perceptionhe has of those simple ideas; which, being each in itself uncompounded, contains in it nothing but ONE UNIFORM APPEARANCE, OR CONCEPTION IN THEMIND, and is not distinguishable into different ideas. 2. The Mind can neither make nor destroy them. These simple ideas, the materials of all our knowledge, are suggestedand furnished to the mind only by those two ways above mentioned, viz. Sensation and reflection. When the understanding is once stored withthese simple ideas, it has the power to repeat, compare, and unite them, even to an almost infinite variety, and so can make at pleasure newcomplex ideas. But it is not in the power of the most exalted wit, orenlarged understanding, by any quickness or variety of thought, toINVENT or FRAME one new simple idea in the mind, not taken in by theways before mentioned: nor can any force of the understanding DESTROYthose that are there. The dominion of man, in this little world of hisown understanding being much what the same as it is in the great worldof visible things; wherein his power, however managed by art and skill, reaches no farther than to compound and divide the materials that aremade to his hand; but can do nothing towards the making the leastparticle of new matter, or destroying one atom of what is already inbeing. The same inability will every one find in himself, who shall goabout to fashion in his understanding one simple idea, not receivedin by his senses from external objects, or by reflection from theoperations of his own mind about them. I would have any one try to fancyany taste which had never affected his palate; or frame the idea of ascent he had never smelt: and when he can do this, I will also concludethat a blind man hath ideas of colours, and a deaf man true distinctnotions of sounds. 3. Only the qualities that affect the senses are imaginable. This is the reason why--though we cannot believe it impossible to Godto make a creature with other organs, and more ways to convey into theunderstanding the notice of corporeal things than those five, as theyare usually counted, which he has given to man--yet I think it is notpossible for any MAN to imagine any other qualities in bodies, howsoeverconstituted, whereby they can be taken notice of, besides sounds, tastes, smells, visible and tangible qualities. And had mankind beenmade but with four senses, the qualities then which are the objectsof the fifth sense had been as far from our notice, imagination, andconception, as now any belonging to a sixth, seventh, or eighth sensecan possibly be;--which, whether yet some other creatures, in some otherparts of this vast and stupendous universe, may not have, will be agreat presumption to deny. He that will not set himself proudly at thetop of all things, but will consider the immensity of this fabric, andthe great variety that is to be found in this little and inconsiderablepart of it which he has to do with, may be apt to think that, in othermansions of it, there may be other and different intelligent beings, ofwhose faculties he has as little knowledge or apprehension as a wormshut up in one drawer of a cabinet hath of the senses or understandingof a man; such variety and excellency being suitable to the wisdom andpower of the Maker. I have here followed the common opinion of man'shaving but five senses; though, perhaps, there may be justly countedmore;--but either supposition serves equally to my present purpose. CHAPTER III. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSE. 1. Division of simple ideas. The better to conceive the ideas we receive from sensation, it may notbe amiss for us to consider them, in reference to the different wayswhereby they make their approaches to our minds, and make themselvesperceivable by us. FIRST, then, There are some which come into our minds BY ONE SENSE ONLY. SECONDLY, There are others that convey themselves into the mind BY MORESENSES THAN ONE. THIRDLY, Others that are had from REFLECTION ONLY. FOURTHLY, There are some that make themselves way, and are suggested tothe mind BY ALL THE WAYS OF SENSATION AND REFLECTION. We shall consider them apart under these several heads. Ideas of one Sense. There are some ideas which have admittance only through one sense, whichis peculiarly adapted to receive them. Thus light and colours, as white, red, yellow, blue; with their several degrees or shades and mixtures, as green, scarlet, purple, sea-green, and the rest, come in only by theeyes. All kinds of noises, sounds, and tones, only by the ears. Theseveral tastes and smells, by the nose and palate. And if these organs, or the nerves which are the conduits to convey them from without totheir audience in the brain, --the mind's presence-room (as I mayso call it)--are any of them so disordered as not to perform theirfunctions, they have no postern to be admitted by; no other way to bringthemselves into view, and be perceived by the understanding. The most considerable of those belonging to the touch, are heat andcold, and solidity: all the rest, consisting almost wholly in thesensible configuration, as smooth and rough; or else, more or less firmadhesion of the parts, as hard and soft, tough and brittle, are obviousenough. 2. Few simple Ideas have Names. I think it will be needless to enumerate all the particular simple ideasbelonging to each sense. Nor indeed is it possible if we would; therebeing a great many more of them belonging to most of the senses than wehave names for. The variety of smells, which are as many almost, if notmore, than species of bodies in the world, do most of them want names. Sweet and stinking commonly serve our turn for these ideas, which ineffect is little more than to call them pleasing or displeasing; thoughthe smell of a rose and violet, both sweet, are certainly very distinctideas. Nor are the different tastes, that by our palates we receiveideas of, much better provided with names. Sweet, bitter, sour, harsh, and salt are almost all the epithets we have to denominate thatnumberless variety of relishes, which are to be found distinct, not onlyin almost every sort of creatures, but in the different parts of thesame plant, fruit, or animal. The same may be said of colours andsounds. I shall, therefore, in the account of simple ideas I am heregiving, content myself to set down only such as are most material to ourpresent purpose, or are in themselves less apt to be taken notice ofthough they are very frequently the ingredients of our complex ideas;amongst which, I think, I may well account solidity, which therefore Ishall treat of in the next chapter. CHAPTER IV. IDEA OF SOLIDITY. 1. We receive this Idea from Touch. The idea of SOLIDITY we receive by our touch: and it arises from theresistance which we find in body to the entrance of any other body intothe place it possesses, till it has left it. There is no idea which wereceive more constantly from sensation than solidity. Whether we move orrest, in what posture soever we are, we always feel something under usthat supports us, and hinders our further sinking downwards; and thebodies which we daily handle make us perceive that, whilst they remainbetween them, they do, by an insurmountable force, hinder the approachof the parts of our hands that press them. THAT WHICH THUS HINDERS THEAPPROACH OF TWO BODIES, WHEN THEY ARE MOVED ONE TOWARDS ANOTHER, I CALLSOLIDITY. I will not dispute whether this acceptation of the word solidbe nearer to its original signification than that which mathematiciansuse it in. It suffices that I think the common notion of solidity willallow, if not justify, this use of it; but if any one think it better tocall it IMPENETRABILITY, he has my consent. Only I have thought the termsolidity the more proper to express this idea, not only because of itsvulgar use in that sense, but also because it carries something more ofpositive in it than impenetrability; which is negative, and is perhapsmore a consequence of solidity, than solidity itself. This, of allother, seems the idea most intimately connected with, and essential tobody; so as nowhere else to be found or imagined, but only in matter. And though our senses take no notice of it, but in masses of matter, ofa bulk sufficient to cause a sensation in us: yet the mind, having oncegot this idea from such grosser sensible bodies, traces it further, andconsiders it, as well as figure, in the minutest particle of matterthat can exist; and finds it inseparably inherent in body, wherever orhowever modified. 2. Solidity fills Space. This is the idea which belongs to body, whereby we conceive it to fillspace. The idea of which filling of space is, --that where we imagine anyspace taken up by a solid substance, we conceive it so to possess it, that it excludes all other solid substances; and will for ever hinderany other two bodies, that move towards one another in a straight line, from coming to touch one another, unless it removes from between themin a line not parallel to that which they move in. This idea of it, the bodies which we ordinarily handle sufficiently furnish us with. 3. Distinct from Space. This resistance, whereby it keeps other bodies out of the space which itpossesses, is so great, that no force, how great soever, can surmountit. All the bodies in the world, pressing a drop of water on all sides, will never be able to overcome the resistance which it will make, softas it is, to their approaching one another, till it be removed out oftheir way: whereby our idea of solidity is distinguished both from purespace, which is capable neither of resistance nor motion; and fromthe ordinary idea of hardness. For a man may conceive two bodies ata distance, so as they may approach one another, without touchingor displacing any solid thing, till their superficies come to meet;whereby, I think, we have the clear idea of space without solidity. For(not to go so far as annihilation of any particular body) I ask, whethera man cannot have the idea of the motion of one single body alone, without any other succeeding immediately into its place? I think it isevident he can: the idea of motion in one body no more including theidea of motion in another, than the idea of a square figure in one bodyincludes the idea of a square figure in another. I do not ask, whetherbodies do so EXIST, that the motion of one body cannot really be withoutthe motion of another. To determine this either way, is to beg thequestion for or against a VACUUM. But my question is, --whether onecannot have the IDEA of one body moved, whilst others are at rest? And Ithink this no one will deny. If so, then the place it deserted gives usthe idea of pure space without solidity; whereinto any other body mayenter, without either resistance or protrusion of anything. When thesucker in a pump is drawn, the space it filled in the tube is certainlythe same whether any other body follows the motion of the sucker or not:nor does it imply a contradiction that, upon the motion of one body, another that is only contiguous to it should not follow it. Thenecessity of such a motion is built only on the supposition that theworld is full; but not on the distinct IDEAS of space and solidity, which are as different as resistance and not resistance, protrusion andnot protrusion. And that men have ideas of space without a body, theirvery disputes about a vacuum plainly demonstrate, as is shown in anotherplace. 4. From Hardness. Solidity is hereby also differenced from hardness, in that solidityconsists in repletion, and so an utter exclusion of other bodies out ofthe space it possesses: but hardness, in a firm cohesion of the parts ofmatter, making up masses of a sensible bulk, so that the whole does noteasily change its figure. And indeed, hard and soft are names that wegive to things only in relation to the constitutions of our own bodies;that being generally called hard by us, which will put us to pain soonerthan change figure by the pressure of any part of our bodies; and that, on the contrary, soft, which changes the situation of its parts upon aneasy and unpainful touch. But this difficulty of changing the situation of the sensible partsamongst themselves, or of the figure of the whole, gives no moresolidity to the hardest body in the world than to the softest; nor is anadamant one jot more solid than water. For, though the two flat sides oftwo pieces of marble will more easily approach each other, between whichthere is nothing but water or air, than if there be a diamond betweenthem; yet it is not that the parts of the diamond are more solid thanthose of water, or resist more; but because the parts of water, beingmore easily separable from each other, they will, by a side motion, bemore easily removed, and give way to the approach of the two pieces ofmarble. But if they could be kept from making place by that side motion, they would eternally hinder the approach of these two pieces of marble, as much as the diamond; and it would be as impossible by any force tosurmount their resistance, as to surmount the resistance of the parts ofa diamond. The softest body in the world will as invincibly resist thecoming together of any other two bodies, if it be not put out of theway, but remain between them, as the hardest that can be found orimagined. He that shall fill a yielding soft body well with air orwater, will quickly find its resistance. And he that thinks that nothingbut bodies that are hard can keep his hands from approaching oneanother, may be pleased to make a trial, with the air inclosed in afootball. The experiment, I have been told, was made at Florence, witha hollow globe of gold filled with water, and exactly closed; whichfurther shows the solidity of so soft a body as water. For the goldenglobe thus filled, being put into a press, which was driven by theextreme force of screws, the water made itself way through the pores ofthat very close metal, and finding no room for a nearer approach of itsparticles within, got to the outside, where it rose like a dew, and sofell in drops, before the sides of the globe could be made to yield tothe violent compression of the engine that squeezed it. 5. On Solidity depend Impulse, Resistance and Protrusion. By this idea of solidity is the extension of body distinguished fromthe extension of space:--the extension of body being nothing but thecohesion or continuity of solid, separable, movable parts; and theextension of space, the continuity of unsolid, inseparable, andimmovable parts. Upon the solidity of bodies also depend their mutualimpulse, resistance, and protrusion. Of pure space then, and solidity, there are several (amongst which I confess myself one) who persuadethemselves they have clear and distinct ideas; and that they can thinkon space, without anything in it that resists or is protruded by body. This is the idea of pure space, which they think they have as clearas any idea they can have of the extension of body: the idea of thedistance between the opposite parts of a concave superficies beingequally as clear without as with the idea of any solid parts between:and on the other side, they persuade themselves that they have, distinctfrom that of pure space, the idea of SOMETHING THAT FILLS SPACE, thatcan be protruded by the impulse of other bodies, or resist their motion. If there be others that have not these two ideas distinct, but confoundthem, and make but one of them, I know not how men, who have the sameidea under different names, or different ideas under the same name, canin that case talk with one another; any more than a man who, not beingblind or deaf, has distinct ideas of the colour of scarlet and the soundof a trumpet, could discourse concerning scarlet colour with the blindman I mentioned in another place, who fancied that the idea of scarletwas like the sound of a trumpet. 6. What Solidity is. If any one asks me, WHAT THIS SOLIDITY IS, I send him to his senses toinform him. Let him put a flint or a football between his hands, andthen endeavour to join them, and he will know. If he thinks this not asufficient explication of solidity, what it is, and wherein it consists;I promise to tell him what it is, and wherein it consists, when he tellsme what thinking is, or wherein it consists; or explains to me whatextension or motion is, which perhaps seems much easier. The simpleideas we have, are such as experience teaches them us; but if, beyondthat, we endeavour by words to make them clearer in the mind, we shallsucceed no better than if we went about to clear up the darkness of ablind man's mind by talking; and to discourse into him the ideas oflight and colours. The reason of this I shall show in another place. CHAPTER V. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF DIVERS SENSES. Ideas received both by seeing and touching. The ideas we get by more than one sense are, of SPACE or EXTENSION, FIGURE, REST, and MOTION. For these make perceivable impressions, bothon the eyes and touch; and we can receive and convey into our minds theideas of the extension, figure, motion, and rest of bodies, both byseeing and feeling. But having occasion to speak more at large of thesein another place, I here only enumerate them. CHAPTER VI. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF REFLECTION. Simple Ideas are the Operations of Mind about its other Ideas. The mind receiving the ideas mentioned in the foregoing chapters fromwithout, when it turns its view inward upon itself, and observes its ownactions about those ideas it has, takes from thence other ideas, whichare as capable to be the objects of its contemplation as any of those itreceived from foreign things. The Idea of Perception, and Idea of Willing, we have from Reflection. The two great and principal actions of the mind, which are mostfrequently considered, and which are so frequent that every one thatpleases may take notice of them in himself, are these two:-- PERCEPTION, or THINKING; and VOLITION, or WILLING. The power of thinking is called the UNDERSTANDING, and the power ofvolition is called the WILL; and these two powers or abilities in themind are denominated faculties. Of some of the MODES of these simple ideas of reflection, such as areREMEMBRANCE, DISCERNING, REASONING, JUDGING, KNOWLEDGE, FAITH, &c. , Ishall have occasion to speak hereafter. CHAPTER VII. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF BOTH SENSATION AND REFLECTION. 1. Ideas of Pleasure and Pain. There be other simple ideas which convey themselves into the mind by allthe ways of sensation and reflection, viz. PLEASURE or DELIGHT, and itsopposite, PAIN, or UNEASINESS; POWER; EXISTENCE; UNITY mix with almostall our other Ideas. 2. Delight or uneasiness, one or other of them, join themselves toalmost all our ideas both of sensation and reflection: and there isscarce any affection of our senses from without, any retired thought ofour mind within, which is not able to produce in us pleasure or pain. Bypleasure and pain, I would be understood to signify, whatsoever delightsor molests us; whether it arises from the thoughts of our minds, oranything operating on our bodies. For, whether we call it; satisfaction, delight, pleasure, happiness, &c. , on the one side, I or uneasiness, trouble, pain, torment, anguish, misery, &c. , the other, they are stillbut different degrees of the same thing, and belong to the ideas ofpleasure and pain, delight or uneasiness; which are the names I shallmost commonly use for those two sorts of ideas. 3. As motives of our actions. The infinite wise Author of our being, having given us the power overseveral parts of our bodies, to move or keep them at rest as we thinkfit; and also, by the motion of them, to move ourselves and othercontiguous bodies, in which consist all the actions of our body: havingalso given a power to our minds, in several instances, to choose, amongst its ideas, which it will think on, and to pursue the inquiry ofthis or that subject with consideration and attention, to excite us tothese actions of thinking and motion that we are capable of, --has beenpleased to join to several thoughts, and several sensations a perceptionof delight. If this were wholly separated from all our outwardsensations, and inward thoughts, we should have no reason to prefer onethought or action to another; negligence to attention, or motion torest. And so we should neither stir our bodies, nor employ our minds, but let our thoughts (if I may so call it) run adrift, without anydirection or design, and suffer the ideas of our minds, like unregardedshadows, to make their appearances there, as it happened, withoutattending to them. In which state man, however furnished with thefaculties of understanding and will, would be a very idle, inactivecreature, and pass his time only in a lazy, lethargic dream. It hastherefore pleased our wise Creator to annex to several objects, and theideas which we receive from them, as also to several of our thoughts, aconcomitant pleasure, and that in several objects, to several degrees, that those faculties which he had endowed us with might not remainwholly idle and unemployed by us. 4. An end and use of pain. Pain has the same efficacy and use to set us on work that pleasure has, we being as ready to employ our faculties to avoid that, as to pursuethis: only this is worth our consideration, that pain is often producedby the same objects and ideas that produce pleasure in us. This theirnear conjunction, which makes us often feel pain in the sensations wherewe expected pleasure, gives us new occasion of admiring the wisdom andgoodness of our Maker, who, designing the preservation of our being, hasannexed pain to the application of many things to our bodies, to warn usof the harm that they will do, and as advices to withdraw from them. Buthe, not designing our preservation barely, but the preservation of everypart and organ in its perfection, hath in many cases annexed pain tothose very ideas which delight us. Thus heat, that is very agreeable tous in one degree, by a little greater increase of it proves no ordinarytorment: and the most pleasant of all sensible objects, light itself, if there be too much of it, if increased beyond a due proportion to oureyes, causes a very painful sensation. Which is wisely and favourably soordered by nature, that when any object does, by the vehemency of itsoperation, disorder the instruments of sensation, whose structurescannot but be very nice and delicate, we might, by the pain, be warnedto withdraw, before the organ be quite put out of order, and so beunfitted for its proper function for the future. The consideration ofthose objects that produce it may well persuade us, that this is the endor use of pain. For, though great light be insufferable to our eyes, yetthe highest degree of darkness does not at all disease them: becausethat, causing no disorderly motion in it, leaves that curious organunarmed in its natural state. But yet excess of cold as well as heatpains us: because it is equally destructive to that temper which isnecessary to the preservation of life, and the exercise of the severalfunctions of the body, and which consists in a moderate degree ofwarmth; or, if you please, a motion of the insensible parts of ourbodies, confined within certain bounds. 5. Another end. Beyond all this, we may find another reason why God hath scattered upand down several degrees of pleasure and pain, in all the things thatenviron and affect us; and blended them together in almost all that ourthoughts and senses have to do with;--that we, finding imperfection, dissatisfaction, and want of complete happiness, in all the enjoymentswhich the creatures can afford us, might be led to seek it in theenjoyment of Him with whom there is fullness of joy, and at whose righthand are pleasures for evermore. 6. Goodness of God in annexing pleasure and pain to our other ideas. Though what I have here said may not, perhaps, make the ideas ofpleasure and pain clearer to us than our own experience does, which isthe only way that we are capable of having them; yet the considerationof the reason why they are annexed to so many other ideas, serving togive us due sentiments of the wisdom and goodness of the SovereignDisposer of all things, may not be unsuitable to the main end of theseinquiries: the knowledge and veneration of him being the chief end ofall our thoughts, and the proper business of all understandings. 7. Ideas of Existence and Unity. EXISTENCE and UNITY are two other ideas that are suggested to theunderstanding by every object without, and every idea within. When ideasare in our minds, we consider them as being actually there, as wellas we consider things to be actually without us;--which is, that theyexist, or have existence. And whatever we can consider as one thing, whether a real being or idea, suggests to the understanding the idea ofunity. 8. Idea of Power. POWER also is another of those simple ideas which we receive fromsensation and reflection. For, observing in ourselves that we do andcan think, and that we can at pleasure move several parts of our bodieswhich were at rest; the effects, also, that natural bodies are able toproduce in one another, occurring every moment to our senses, --we boththese ways get the idea of power. 9. Idea of Succession. Besides these there is another idea, which, though suggested by oursenses, yet is more constantly offered to us by what passes in ourminds; and that is the idea of SUCCESSION. For if we look immediatelyinto ourselves, and reflect on what is observable there, we shall findour ideas always, whilst we are awake, or have any thought, passing intrain, one going and another coming, without intermission. 10. Simple Ideas the materials of all our Knowledge. These, if they are not all, are at least (as I think) the mostconsiderable of those simple ideas which the mind has, out of which ismade all its other knowledge; all which it receives only by the twoforementioned ways of sensation and reflection. Nor let any one think these too narrow bounds for the capacious mind ofman to expatiate in, which takes its flight further than the stars, andcannot be confined by the limits of the world; that extends its thoughtsoften even beyond the utmost expansion of Matter, and makes excursionsinto that incomprehensible Inane. I grant all this, but desire any oneto assign any SIMPLE IDEA which is not received from one of those inletsbefore mentioned, or any COMPLEX IDEA not made out of those simple ones. Nor will it be so strange to think these few simple ideas sufficient toemploy the quickest thought, or largest capacity; and to furnish thematerials of all that various knowledge, and more various fancies andopinions of all mankind, if we consider how many words may be made outof the various composition of twenty-four letters; or if, going one stepfurther, we will but reflect on the variety of combinations that may bemade with barely one of the above-mentioned ideas, viz. Number, whosestock is inexhaustible and truly infinite: and what a large and immensefield doth extension alone afford the mathematicians? CHAPTER VIII. SOME FURTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING OUR SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSATION. 1. Positive Ideas from privative causes. Concerning the simple ideas of Sensation; it is to be considered, --thatwhatsoever is so constituted in nature as to be able, by affecting oursenses, to cause any perception in the mind, doth thereby produce in theunderstanding a simple idea; which, whatever be the external cause ofit, when it comes to be taken notice of by our discerning faculty, it isby the mind looked on and considered there to be a real positive idea inthe understanding, as much as any other whatsoever; though, perhaps, thecause of it be but a privation of the subject. 2. Ideas in the mind distinguished from that in things which gives riseto them. Thus the ideas of heat and cold, light and darkness, white and black, motion and rest, are equally clear and positive ideas in the mind;though, perhaps, some of the causes which produce them are barelyprivations, in those subjects from whence our senses derive those ideas. These the understanding, in its view of them, considers all as distinctpositive ideas, without taking notice of the causes that producethem: which is an inquiry not belonging to the idea, as it is in theunderstanding, but to the nature of the things existing without us. These are two very different things, and carefully to be distinguished;it being one thing to perceive and know the idea of white or black, andquite another to examine what kind of particles they must be, and howranged in the superficies, to make any object appear white or black. 3. We may have the ideas when we are ignorant of their physical causes. A painter or dyer who never inquired into their causes hath the ideasof white and black, and other colours, as clearly, perfectly, anddistinctly in his understanding, and perhaps more distinctly, than thephilosopher who hath busied himself in considering their natures, andthinks he knows how far either of them is, in its cause, positive orprivative; and the idea of black is no less positive in his mind thanthat of white, however the cause of that colour in the external objectmay be only a privation. 4. Why a privative cause in nature may occasion a positive idea. If it were the design of my present undertaking to inquire into thenatural causes and manner of perception, I should offer this as a reasonwhy a privative cause might, in some cases at least, produce a positiveidea; viz. That all sensation being produced in us only by differentdegrees and modes of motion in our animal spirits, variously agitated byexternal objects, the abatement of any former motion must as necessarilyproduce a new sensation as the variation or increase of it; and sointroduce a new idea, which depends only on a different motion of theanimal spirits in that organ. 5. Negative names need not be meaningless. But whether this be so or not I will not here determine, but appealto every one's own experience, whether the shadow of a man, though itconsists of nothing but the absence of light (and the more the absenceof light is, the more discernible is the shadow) does not, when a manlooks on it, cause as clear and positive idea in his mind, as a manhimself, though covered over with clear sunshine? And the picture of ashadow is a positive thing. Indeed, we have negative names, to whichthere be no positive ideas; but they consist wholly in negation of somecertain ideas, as SILENCE, INVISIBLE; but these signify not any ideas inthe mind but their absence. 6. Whether any ideas are due to causes really private. And thus one may truly be said to see darkness. For, supposing a holeperfectly dark, from whence no light is reflected, it is certain one maysee the figure of it, or it may be painted; or whether the ink I writewith makes any other idea, is a question. The privative causes I havehere assigned of positive ideas are according to the common opinion;but, in truth, it will be hard to determine whether there be really anyideas from a privative cause, till it be determined, whether rest be anymore a privation than motion. 7. Ideas in the Mind, Qualities in Bodies. To discover the nature of our IDEAS the better, and to, discourse ofthem intelligibly, it will be convenient to distinguish them AS THEYARE IDEAS OR PERCEPTIONS IN OUR MINDS; and AS THEY ARE MODIFICATIONS OFMATTER IN THE BODIES THAT CAUSE SUCH PERCEPTIONS IN US: that so we maynot think (as perhaps usually is done) that they are exactly the imagesand resemblances of something inherent in the subject; most of those ofsensation being in the mind no more the likeness of something existingwithout us, than the names that stand for them are the likeness of ourideas, which yet upon hearing they are apt to excite in us. 8. Our Ideas and the Qualities of Bodies. Whatsoever the mind perceives IN ITSELF, or is the immediate object ofperception, thought, or understanding, that I call IDEA; and the powerto produce any idea in our mind, I call QUALITY of the subject whereinthat power is. Thus a snowball having the power to produce in us theideas of white, cold, and round, --the power to produce those ideas inus, as they are in the snowball, I call qualities; and as they aresensations or perceptions in our understandings, I call them ideas;which IDEAS, if I speak of sometimes as in the things themselves, Iwould be understood to mean those qualities in the objects which producethem in us. 9. Primary Qualities of Bodies. Concerning these qualities, we, I think, observe these primary ones inbodies that produce simple ideas in us, viz. SOLIDITY, EXTENSION, MOTIONor REST, NUBMER or FIGURE. These, which I call ORIGINAL or PRIMARYqualities of body, are wholly inseperable from it; and such as in allthe alterations and changes it suffers, all the force can be used uponit, it constantly keeps; and such as sense constantly finds in everyparticle of matter which has bulk enough to be perceived; and the mindfinds inseparable from every particle of matter, though less than tomake itself singly be perceived by our senses: v. G. Take a grainof wheat, divide it into two parts; each part has still solidity, extension, figure, and mobility: divide it again, and it retainsstill the same qualities; and so divide it on, till the parts becomeinsensible; they must retain still each of them all those qualities. Fordivision (which is all that a mill, or pestle, or any other body, doesupon another, in reducing it to insensible parts) can never take awayeither solidity, extension, figure, or mobility from any body, but onlymakes two or more distinct separate masses of matter, of that which wasbut one before; all which distinct masses, reckoned as so many distinctbodies, after division, make a certain number. 10. [not in early editions] 11. How Bodies produce Ideas in us. The next thing to be considered is, how bodies operate one upon another;and that is manifestly by impulse, and nothing else. It being impossibleto conceive that body should operate on WHAT IT DOES NOT TOUCH (which isall one as to imagine it can operate where it is not), or when it doestouch, operate any other way than by motion. 12. By motions, external, and in our organism. If then external objects be not united to our minds when they produceideas therein; and yet we perceive these ORIGINAL qualities in such ofthem as singly fall under our senses, it is evident that some motionmust be thence continued by our nerves, or animal spirits, by some partsof our bodies, to the brains or the seat of sensation, there to producein our minds the particular ideas we have of them. And since theextension, figure, number, and motion of bodies of an observablebigness, maybe perceived at a distance by the sight, it is evidentsome singly imperceptible bodies must come from them; to the eyes, andthereby convey to the brain some motion; which produces these ideaswhich we have of them in us. 13. How secondary Qualities produce their ideas. After the same manner that the ideas of these original qualities areproduced in us, we may conceive that the ideas of SECONDARY qualitiesare also produced, viz. By the operation of insensible particles on oursenses. For, it being manifest that there are bodies and good store ofbodies, each whereof are so small, that we cannot by any of our sensesdiscover either their bulk, figure, or motion, --as is evident in theparticles of the air and water, and others extremely smaller than those;perhaps as much smaller than the particles of air and water, as theparticles of air and water are smaller than peas or hail-stones;--letus suppose at present that, the different motions and figures, bulk andnumber, of such particles, affecting the several organs of our senses, produce: in us those different sensations which we have from the coloursand smells of bodies; v. G. That a violet, by the impulse of suchinsensible particles of matter, of peculiar figures and bulks, and indifferent degrees and modifications of their motions, causes the ideasof the blue colour, and sweet scent of that flower to be produced in ourminds. It being no more impossible to conceive that God should annexsuch ideas to such motions, with which they have no similitude, thanthat he should annex the idea of pain to the motion of a piece of steeldividing our flesh, with which that idea hath no resemblance. 14. They depend on the primary Qualities. What I have said concerning colours and smells may be understood alsoof tastes and sounds, and other the like sensible qualities; which, whatever reality we by mistake attribute to them, are in truth nothingin the objects themselves, but powers to produce various sensations inus; and depend on those primary qualities, viz. Bulk, figure, texture, and motion of parts and therefore I call them SECONDARY QUALITIES. 15. Ideas of primary Qualities are Resemblances; of secondary, not. From whence I think it easy to draw this observation, --that the ideas ofprimary qualities of bodies are resemblances of them, and their patternsdo really exist in the bodies themselves, but the ideas produced in usby these secondary qualities have no resemblance of them at all. Thereis nothing like our ideas, existing in the bodies themselves. They are, in the bodies we denominate from them, only a power to produce thosesensations in us: and what is sweet, blue, or warm in idea, is but thecertain bulk, figure, and motion of the insensible parts, in the bodiesthemselves, which we call so. 16. Examples. Flame is denominated hot and light; snow, white and cold; and manna, white and sweet, from the ideas they produce in us. Which qualities arecommonly thought to be the same in those bodies that those ideas arein us, the one the perfect resemblance of the other, as they are ina mirror, and it would by most men be judged very extravagant if oneshould say otherwise. And yet he that will consider that the same firethat, at one distance produces in us the sensation of warmth, does, ata nearer approach, produce in us the far different sensation of pain, ought to bethink himself what reason he has to say--that this idea ofwarmth, which was produced in him by the fire, is ACTUALLY IN THE FIRE;and his idea of pain, which the same fire produced in him the same way, is NOT in the fire. Why are whiteness and coldness in snow, and painnot, when it produces the one and the other idea in us; and can doneither, but by the bulk, figure, number, and motion of its solid parts? 17. The ideas of the Primary alone really exist. The particular bulk, number, figure, and motion of the parts of fire orsnow are really in them, --whether any one's senses perceive them or no:and therefore they may be called REAL qualities, because they reallyexist in those bodies. But light, heat, whiteness, or coldness, are nomore really in them than sickness or pain is in manna. Take away thesensation of them; let not the eyes see light or colours, nor the canhear sounds; let the palate not taste, nor the nose smell, and allcolours, tastes, odours, and sounds, AS THEY ARE SUCH PARTICULAR IDEAS, vanish and cease, and are reduced to their causes, i. E. Bulk, figure, and motion of parts. 18. The secondary exist in things only as modes of the primary. A piece of manna of a sensible bulk is able to produce in us the ideaof a round or square figure; and by being removed from one place toanother, the idea of motion. This idea of motion represents it as itreally is in manna moving: a circle or square are the same, whether inidea or existence, in the mind or in the manna. And this, both motionand as figure, are really in the manna, whether we take notice ofprimary, them or no: this everybody is ready to agree to. Besides, manna, by the bulk, figure, texture, and motion of its parts, has apower to produce the sensations of sickness, and sometimes of acutepains or gripings in us. That these ideas of sickness and pain are NOTin the manna, but effects of its operations on us, and are nowhere whenwe feel them not; this also every one readily agrees to. And yet menare hardly to be brought to think that sweetness and whiteness are notreally in manna; which are but the effects of the operations of manna, by the motion, size, and figure of its particles, on the eyes andpalate: as the pain and sickness caused by manna are confessedly nothingbut the effects of its operations on the stomach and guts, by the size, motion, and figure of its insensible parts, (for by nothing else can abody operate, as has been proved): as if it could not operate on theeyes and palate, and thereby produce in the mind particular distinctideas, which in itself it has not, as well as we allow it can operateon the guts and stomach, and thereby produce distinct ideas, which initself it has not. These ideas, being all effects of the operations ofmanna on several parts of our bodies, by the size, figure, number, andmotion of its parts;--why those produced by the eyes and palate shouldrather be thought to be really in the manna, than those produced bythe stomach and guts; or why the pain and sickness, ideas that are theeffect of manna, should be thought to be nowhere when they are not felt;and yet the sweetness and whiteness, effects of the same manna on otherparts of the body, by ways equally as unknown, should be thought toexist in the manna, when they are not seen or tasted, would need somereason to explain. 19. Examples. Let us consider the red and white colours in porphyry. Hinder light fromstriking on it, and its colours vanish; it no longer produces any suchideas in us: upon the return of light it produces these appearanceson us again. Can any one think any real alterations are made in theporphyry by the presence or absence of light; and that those ideas ofwhiteness and redness are really in porphryry in the light, when it isplain IT HAS NO COLOUR IN THE DARK? It has, indeed, such a configurationof particles, both night and day, as are apt, by the rays of lightrebounding from some parts of that hard stone, to produce in us the ideaof redness, and from others the idea of whiteness; but whiteness orredness are not in it at any time, but such a texture that hath thepower to produce such a sensation in us. 20. Pound an almond, and the clear white colour will be altered into adirty one, and the sweet taste into an oily one. What real alterationcan the beating of the pestle make in an body, but an alteration of thetexture of it? 21. Explains how water felt as cold by one hand may be warm to the other. Ideas being thus distinguished and understood, we may be able to give anaccount how the same water, at the same time, may produce the idea ofcold by one hand and of heat by the other: whereas it is impossible thatthe same water, if those ideas were really in it, should at the sametime be both hot and cold. For, if we imagine WARMTH, as it is in ourhands, to be nothing but a certain sort and degree of motion in theminute particles of our nerves or animal spirits, we may understand howit is possible that the same water may, at the same time, produce thesensations of heat in one hand and cold in the other; which yet FIGUREnever does, that never producing the idea of a square by one hand whichhas produced the idea of a globe by another. But if the sensation ofheat and cold be nothing but the increase or diminution of the motion ofthe minute parts of our bodies, caused by the corpuscles of any otherbody, it is easy to be understood, that if that motion be greater in onehand than in the other; if a body be applied to the two hands, which hasin its minute particles a greater motion than in those of one of thehands, and a less than in those of the other, it will increase themotion of the one hand and lessen it in the other; and so cause thedifferent sensations of heat and cold that depend thereon. 22. An excursion into natural philosophy. I have in what just goes before been engaged in physical inquiries alittle further than perhaps I intended. But, it being necessary to makethe nature of sensation a little understood; and to make the differencebetween the QUALITIES in bodies, and the IDEAS produced by them in themind, to be distinctly conceived, without which it were impossible todiscourse intelligibly of them;--I hope I shall be pardoned this littleexcursion into natural philosophy; it being necessary in our presentinquiry to distinguish the PRIMARY and REAL qualities of bodies, whichare always in them (viz. Solidity, extension, figure, number, andmotion, or rest, and are sometimes perceived by us, viz. When the bodiesthey are in are big enough singly to be discerned), from those SECONDARYand IMPUTED qualities, which are but the powers of several combinationsof those primary ones, when they operate without being distinctlydiscerned;--whereby we may also come to know what ideas are, and whatare not, resemblances of something really existing in the bodies wedenominate from them. 23. Three Sorts of Qualities on Bodies. The qualities, then, that are in bodies, rightly considered are of threesorts:-- FIRST, The bulk, figure, number, situation, and motion or rest of theirsolid parts. Those are in them, whether we perceive them or not; andwhen they are of that size that we can discover them, we have by thesean idea of the thing as it is in itself; as is plain in artificialthings. These I call PRIMARY QUALITIES. SECONDLY, The power that is in any body, by reason of its insensibleprimary qualities, to operate after a peculiar manner on any of oursenses, and thereby produce in US the different ideas of severalcolours, sounds, smells, tastes, &c. These are usually called SENSIBLEQUALITIES. THIRDLY, The power that is in any body, by reason of the particularconstitution of its primary qualities, to make such a change in thebulk, figure, texture, and motion of ANOTHER BODY, as to make it operateon our senses differently from what it did before. Thus the sun has apower to make wax white, and fire to make lead fluid. The first of these, as has been said, I think may be properly calledreal, original, or primary qualities; because they are in the thingsthemselves, whether they are perceived or not: and upon their differentmodifications it is that the secondary qualities depend. The other two are only powers to act differently upon other things:which powers result from the different modifications of those primaryqualities. 24. The first are Resemblances; the second thought to be Resemblances, but are not, the third neither are nor are thought so. But, though the two latter sorts of qualities are powers barely, andnothing but powers, relating to several other bodies, and resulting fromthe different modifications of the original qualities, yet they aregenerally otherwise thought of. For the SECOND sort, viz. The powersto produce several ideas in us, by our senses, are looked upon as realqualities in the things thus affecting us: but the THIRD sort are calledand esteemed barely powers, v. G. The idea of heat or light, which wereceive by our eyes, or touch, from the sun, are commonly thought realqualities existing in the sun, and something more than mere powers init. But when we consider the sun in reference to wax, which it melts orblanches, we look on the whiteness and softness produced in the wax, notas qualities in the sun, but effects produced by powers in it. Whereas, if rightly considered, these qualities of light and warmth, which areperceptions in me when I am warmed or enlightened by the sun, are nootherwise in the sun, than the changes made in the wax, when it isblanched or melted, are in the sun. They are all of them equally POWERSIN THE SUN, DEPENDING ON ITS PRIMARY QUALITIES; whereby it is able, inthe one case, so to alter the bulk, figure, texture, or motion of someof the insensible parts of my eyes or hands, as thereby to produce in methe idea of light or heat; and in the other, it is able so to alter thebulk, figure, texture, or motion of the insensible parts of the wax, asto make them fit to produce in me the distinct ideas of white and fluid. 25. Why the secondary are ordinarily taken for real Qualities and notfor bare Powers. The reason why the one are ordinarily taken for real qualities, and theother only for bare powers, seems to be because the ideas we have ofdistinct colours, sounds, &c. Containing nothing at all in them of bulk, figure, or motion we are not apt to think them the effects of theseprimary qualities; which appear not, to our senses, to operate in theirproduction, and with which they have not any apparent congruity orconceivable connexion. Hence it is that we are so forward as to imagine, that those ideas are the resemblances of something really existingin the objects themselves since sensation discovers nothing of bulk, figure, or motion of parts in their production; nor can reason show howbodies BY THEIR BULK, FIGURE, AND MOTION, should produce in the mind theideas of blue or yellow, &c. But, in the other case in the operations ofbodies changing the qualities one of another, we plainly discover thatthe quality produced hath commonly no resemblance with anything in thething producing it; wherefore we look on it as a bare effect of power. For, through receiving the idea of heat or light from the sun, we areapt to think IT is a perception and resemblance of such a quality in thesun; yet when we see wax, or a fair face, receive change of colour fromthe sun, we cannot imagine THAT to be the reception or resemblance ofanything in the sun, because we find not those different colours inthe sun itself. For, our senses being able to observe a likeness orunlikeness of sensible qualities in two different external objects, weforwardly enough conclude the production of any sensible quality in anysubject to be an effect of bare power, and not the communication of anyquality which was really in the efficient, when we find no such sensiblequality in the thing that produced it. But our senses, not being able todiscover any unlikeness between the idea produced in us, and the qualityof the object producing it, we are apt to imagine that our ideas areresemblances of something in the objects, and not the effects of certainpowers placed in the modification of their primary qualities, with whichprimary qualities the ideas produced in us have no resemblance. 26. Secondary Qualities twofold; first, immediately perceivable;secondly, mediately perceivable. To conclude. Beside those before-mentioned primary qualities in bodies, viz. Bulk, figure, extension, number, and motion of their solid parts;all the rest, whereby we take notice of bodies, and distinguish them onefrom another, are nothing else but several powers in them, depending onthose primary qualities; whereby they are fitted, either by immediatelyoperating on our bodies to produce several different ideas in us; orelse, by operating on other bodies, so to change their primary qualitiesas to render them capable of producing ideas in us different from whatbefore they did. The former of these, I think, may be called secondaryqualities IMMEDIATELY PERCEIVABLE: the latter, secondary qualities, MEDIATELY PERCEIVABLE. CHAPTER IX. OF PERCEPTION. 1. Perception the first simple Idea of Reflection. PERCEPTION, as it is the first faculty of the mind exercised about ourideas; so it is the first and simplest idea we have from reflection, andis by some called thinking in general. Though thinking, in the proprietyof the English tongue, signifies that sort of operation in the mindabout its ideas, wherein the mind is active; where it, with somedegree of voluntary attention, considers anything. For in bare nakedperception, the mind is, for the most part, only passive; and what itperceives, it cannot avoid perceiving. 2. Reflection alone can give us the idea of what perception is. What perception is, every one will know better by reflecting on what hedoes himself, when he sees, hears, feels, &c. , or thinks, than by anydiscourse of mine. Whoever reflects on what passes in his own mindcannot miss it. And if he does not reflect, all the words in the worldcannot make him have any notion of it. 3. Arises in sensation only when the mind notices the organicimpression. This is certain, that whatever alterations are made in the body, if theyreach not the mind; whatever impressions are made on the outward parts, if they are not taken notice of within, there is no perception. Fire mayburn our bodies with no other effect than it does a billet, unless themotion be continued to the brain, and there the sense of heat, or ideaof pain, be produced in the mind; wherein consists actual perception. 4. Impulse on the organ insufficient. How often may a man observe in himself, that whilst his mind is intentlyemployed in the contemplation of some objects, and curiously surveyingsome ideas that are there, it takes no notice of impressions of soundingbodies made upon the organ of hearing, with the same alteration thatuses to be for the producing the idea of sound? A sufficient impulsethere may be on the organ; but it not reaching the observation of themind, there follows no perception: and though the motion that uses toproduce the idea of sound be made in the ear, yet no sound is heard. Want of sensation, in this case, is not through any defect in the organ, or that the man's ears are less affected than at other times when hedoes hear but that which uses to produce the idea, though conveyed in bythe usual organ, not being taken notice of in the understanding, andso imprinting no idea in the mind, there follows no sensation. So thatwherever there is sense of perception, there some idea is actuallyproduced, and present in the understanding. 5. Children, though they may have Ideas in the Womb, have none innate. Therefore I doubt not but children, by the exercise of their sensesabout objects that affect them in the womb receive some few ideas beforethey are born, as the unavoidable effects, either of the bodies thatenviron them, or else of those wants or diseases they suffer; amongstwhich (if one may conjecture concerning things not very capable ofexamination) I think the ideas of hunger and warmth are two: whichprobably are some of the first that children have, and which they scarceever part with again. 6. The effects of Sensation in the womb. But though it be reasonable to imagine that children receive some ideasbefore they come into the world, yet these simple ideas are far fromthose INNATE PRINCIPLES which some contend for, and we, above, haverejected. These here mentioned, being the effects of sensation, are onlyfrom some affections of the body, which happen to them there, and sodepend on something exterior to the mind; no otherwise differing intheir manner of production from other ideas derived from sense, but onlyin the precedency of time. Whereas those innate principles are supposedto be quite of another nature; not coming into the mind by anyaccidental alterations in, or operations on the body; but, as it were, original characters impressed upon it, in the very first moment of itsbeing and constitution. 7. Which Ideas appear first is not evident, nor important. As there are some ideas which we may reasonably suppose may beintroduced into the minds of children in the womb, subservient to thenecessities of their life and being there: so, after they are born, those ideas are the earliest imprinted which happen to be the sensiblequalities which first occur to them; amongst which light is not theleast considerable, nor of the weakest efficacy. And how covetous themind is to be furnished with all such ideas as have no pain accompanyingthem, may be a little guessed by what is observable in childrennew-born; who always turn their eyes to that part from whence the lightcomes, lay them how you please. But the ideas that are most familiar atfirst, being various according to the divers circumstances of children'sfirst entertainment in the world, the order wherein the several ideascome at first into the mind is very various, and uncertain also; neitheris it much material to know it. 8. Sensations often changed by the Judgment. We are further to consider concerning perception, that the ideaswe receive by sensation are often, in grown people, altered by thejudgment, without our taking notice of it. When we set before our eyes around globe of any uniform colour, v. G. Gold, alabaster, or jet, it iscertain that the idea thereby imprinted on our mind is of a flat circle, variously shadowed, with several degrees of light and brightness comingto our eyes. But we having, by use, been accustomed to perceivewhat kind of appearance convex bodies are wont to make in us; whatalterations are made in the reflections of light by the difference ofthe sensible figures of bodies;--the judgment presently, by an habitualcustom, alters the appearances into their causes. So that from thatwhich is truly variety of shadow or colour, collecting the figure, itmakes it pass for a mark of figure, and frames to itself the perceptionof a convex figure and an uniform colour; when the idea we receive fromthence is only a plane variously coloured, as is evident in painting. Towhich purpose I shall here insert a problem of that very ingeniousand studious promoter of real knowledge, the learned and worthy Mr. Molineux, which he was pleased to send me in a letter some months since;and it is this:--"Suppose a man BORN blind, and now adult, and taught byhis TOUCH to distinguish between a cube and a sphere of the same metal, and nighly of the same bigness, so as to tell, when he felt one and theother, which is the cube, which the sphere. Suppose then the cube andsphere placed on a table, and the blind man be made to see: quaere, whether BY HIS SIGHT, BEFORE HE TOUCHED THEM, he could now distinguishand tell which is the globe, which the cube?" To which the acute andjudicious proposer answers, "Not. For, though he has obtained theexperience of how a globe, how a cube affects his touch, yet he has notyet obtained the experience, that what affects his touch so or so, mustaffect his sight so or so; or that a protuberant angle in the cube, thatpressed his hand unequally, shall appear to his eye as it does in thecube. "--I agree with this thinking gentleman, whom I am proud to call myfriend, in his answer to this problem; and am of opinion that the blindman, at first sight, would not be able with certainty to say which wasthe globe, which the cube, whilst he only saw them; though he couldunerringly name them by his touch, and certainly distinguish them by thedifference of their figures felt. This I have set down, and leavewith my reader, as an occasion for him to consider how much he may bebeholden to experience, improvement, and acquired notions, where hethinks he had not the least use of, or help from them. And the rather, because this observing gentleman further adds, that "having, upon theoccasion of my book, proposed this to divers very ingenious men, hehardly ever met with one that at first gave the answer to it which hethinks true, till by hearing his reasons they were convinced. " 9. This judgement apt to be mistaken for direct perception. But this is not, I think, usual in any of our ideas, but those receivedby sight. Because sight, the most comprehensive of all our senses, conveying to our minds the ideas of light and colours, which arepeculiar only to that sense; and also the far different ideas of space, figure, and motion, the several varieties whereof change the appearancesof its proper object, viz. Light and colours; we bring ourselves byuse to judge of the one by the other. This, in many cases by a settledhabit, --in things whereof we have frequent experience is performed soconstantly and so quick, that we take that for the perception of oursensation which is an idea formed by our judgment; so that one, viz. That of sensation, serves only to excite the other, and is scarce takennotice of itself;--as a man who reads or hears with attention andunderstanding, takes little notice of the characters or sounds, but ofthe ideas that are excited in him by them. 10. How, by Habit, ideas of Sensation are unconsciously changed intoideas of Judgment. Nor need we wonder that this is done with so little notice, if weconsider how quick the actions of the mind are performed. For, as itselfis thought to take up no space to have no extension; so its actions seemto require no time but many of them seem to be crowded into an instant. I speak this in comparison to the actions of the body. Any one mayeasily observe this in his own thoughts, who will take the pains toreflect on them. How, as it were in an instant, do our minds, with oneglance, see all the parts of a demonstration, which may very well becalled a long one, if we consider the time it will require to put itinto words, and step by step show it another? Secondly, we shall not beso much surprised that this is done in us with so little notice, if weconsider how the facility which we get of doing things, by a customof doing, makes them often pass in us without our notice. Habits, especially such as are begun very early, come at last to produce actionsin us, which often escape our observation. How frequently do we, in aday, cover our eyes with our eyelids, without perceiving that we are atall in the dark! Men that, by custom, have got the use of a by-word, doalmost in every sentence pronounce sounds which, though taken notice ofby others, they themselves neither hear nor observe. And therefore itis not so strange, that our mind should often change the idea of itssensation into that of its judgment, and make one serve only to excitethe other, without our taking notice of it. 11. Perception puts the difference between Animals and Vegetables. This faculty of perception seems to me to be, that which puts thedistinction betwixt the animal kingdom and the inferior parts of nature. For, however vegetables have, many of them, some degrees of motion, andupon the different application of other bodies to them, do very brisklyalter their figures and motions, and so have obtained the name ofsensitive plants, from a motion which has some resemblance to thatwhich in animals follows upon sensation: yet I suppose it is allbare MECHANISM; and no otherwise produced than the turning of a wildoat-beard, by the insinuation of the particles of moisture, or theshortening of a rope, by the affusion of water. All which is donewithout any sensation in the subject, or the having or receiving anyideas. 12. Perception in all animals. Perception, I believe, is, in some degree, in all sorts of animals;though in some possibly the avenues provided by nature for the receptionof sensations are so few, and the perception they are received with soobscure and dull, that it comes extremely short of the quickness andvariety of sensation which is in other animals; but yet it is sufficientfor, and wisely adapted to, the state and condition of that sort ofanimals who are thus made. So that the wisdom and goodness of the Makerplainly appear in all the parts of this stupendous fabric, and all theseveral degrees and ranks of creatures in it. 13. According to their condition. We may, I think, from the make of an oyster or cockle, reasonablyconclude that it has not so many, nor so quick senses as a man, orseveral other animals; nor if it had, would it, in that state andincapacity of transferring itself from one place to another, be betteredby them. What good would sight and hearing do to a creature that cannotmove itself to or from the objects wherein at a distance it perceivesgood or evil? And would not quickness of sensation be an inconvenienceto an animal that must lie still where chance has once placed it, andthere receive the afflux of colder or warmer, clean or foul water, as ithappens to come to it? 14. Decay of perception in old age. But yet I cannot but think there is some small dull perception, wherebythey are distinguished from perfect insensibility. And that this may beso, we have plain instances, even in mankind itself. Take one in whomdecrepit old age has blotted out the memory of his past knowledge, andclearly wiped out the ideas his mind was formerly stored with, and has, by destroying his sight, hearing, and smell quite, and his taste to agreat degree, stopped up almost all the passages for new ones to enter;or if there be some of the inlets yet half open, the impressions madeare scarcely perceived, or not at all retained. How far such an one(notwithstanding all that is boasted of innate principles) is in hisknowledge and intellectual faculties above the condition of a cockle oran oyster, I leave to be considered. And if a man had passed sixty yearsin such a state, as it is possible he might, as well as three days, Iwonder what difference there would be, in any intellectual perfections, between him and the lowest degree of animals. 15. Perception the Inlet of all materials of Knowledge. Perception then being the FIRST step and degree towards knowledge, andthe inlet of all the materials of it; the fewer senses any man, as wellas any other creature, hath; and the fewer and duller the impressionsare that are made by them; and the duller the faculties are that areemployed about them, --the more remote are they from that knowledge whichis to be found in some men. But this being in great variety of degrees(as may be perceived amongst men) cannot certainly be discovered in theseveral species of animals, much less in their particular individuals. It suffices me only to have remarked here, --that perception is thefirst operation of all our intellectual faculties, and the inlet ofall knowledge in our minds. And I am apt too to imagine, that it isperception, in the lowest degree of it, which puts the boundariesbetween animals and the inferior ranks of creatures. But this I mentiononly as my conjecture by the by; it being indifferent to the matter inhand which way the learned shall determine of it. CHAPTER X. OF RETENTION. 1. Contemplation The next faculty of the mind, whereby it makes a further progresstowards knowledge, is that which I call RETENTION; or the keeping ofthose simple ideas which from sensation or reflection it hath received. This is done two ways. First, by keeping the idea which is brought into it, for some timeactually in view, which is called CONTEMPLATION. 2. Memory. The other way of retention is, the power to revive again in our mindsthose ideas which, after imprinting, have disappeared, or have been asit were laid aside out of sight. And thus we do, when we conceive heator light, yellow or sweet, --the object being removed. This is MEMORY, which is as it were the storehouse of our ideas. For, the narrow mind ofman not being capable of having many ideas under view and considerationat once, it was necessary to have a repository, to lay up those ideaswhich, at another time, it might have use of. But, our IDEAS beingnothing but actual perceptions in the mind, which cease to be anything;when there is no perception of them; this laying up of our ideas in therepository of the memory signifies no more but this, --that the mind hasa power in many cases to revive perceptions which it has once had, withthis additional perception annexed to them, that IT HAS HAD THEM BEFORE. And in this sense it is that our ideas are said to be in our memories, when indeed they are actually nowhere;--but only there is an ability inthe mind when it will to revive them again, and as it were paint themanew on itself, though some with more, some with less difficulty;some more lively, and others more obscurely. And thus it is, by theassistance of this faculty, that we are said to have all those ideas inour understandings which, though we do not actually contemplate yet weCAN bring in sight, and make appear again, and be the objects of ourthoughts, without the help of those sensible qualities which firstimprinted them there. 3. Attention, Repetition, Pleasure and Pain, fix Ideas. Attention and repetition help much to the fixing any ideas in thememory. But those which naturally at first make the deepest and mostlasting impressions, are those which are accompanied with pleasure orpain. The great business of the senses being, to make us take notice ofwhat hurts or advantages the body, it is wisely ordered by nature, ashas been shown, that pain should accompany the reception of severalideas; which, supplying the place of consideration and reasoning inchildren, and acting quicker than consideration in grown men, makesboth the old and young avoid painful objects with that haste which isnecessary for their preservation; and in both settles in the memory acaution for the future. 4. Ideas fade in the Memory. Concerning the several degrees of lasting, wherewith ideas are imprintedon the memory, we may observe, --that some of them have been produced inthe understanding by an object affecting the senses once only, and nomore than once; others, that have more than once offered themselvesto the senses, have yet been little taken notice of: the mind, eitherheedless, as in children, or otherwise employed, as in men intent onlyon one thing; not setting the stamp deep into itself. And in some, wherethey are set on with care and repeated impressions, either through thetemper of the body, or some other fault, the memory is very weak. In allthese cases, ideas in the mind quickly fade, and often vanish quite outof the understanding, leaving no more footsteps or remaining charactersof themselves than shadows do flying over fields of corn, and the mindis as void of them as if they had never been there. 5. Causes of oblivion. Thus many of those ideas which were produced in the minds of children, in the beginning of their sensation, (some of which perhaps, as of somepleasures and pains, were before they were born, and others in theirinfancy, ) if in the future course of their lives they are not repeatedagain, are quite lost, without the least glimpse remaining of them. Thismay be observed in those who by some mischance have lost their sightwhen they were very young; in whom the ideas of colours having been butslightly taken notice of, and ceasing to be repeated, do quite wear out;so that some years after, there is no more notion nor memory of coloursleft in their minds, than in those of people born blind. The memory ofsome men, it is true, is very tenacious, even to a miracle. But yetthere seems to be a constant decay of all our ideas, even of those whichare struck deepest, and in minds the most retentive; so that if they benot sometimes renewed, by repeated exercise of the senses, or reflectionon those kinds of objects which at first occasioned them, the printwears out, and at last there remains nothing to be seen. Thus the ideas, as well as children, of our youth, often die before us: and our mindsrepresent to us those tombs to which we are approaching; where, thoughthe brass and marble remain, yet the inscriptions are effaced by time, and the imagery moulders away. The pictures drawn in our minds are laidin fading colours; and if not sometimes refreshed, vanish and disappear. How much the constitution of our bodies are concerned in this; andwhether the temper of the brain makes this difference, that in someit retains the characters drawn on it like marble, in others likefreestone, and in others little better than sand, I shall here inquire;though it may seem probable that the constitution of the body doessometimes influence the memory, since we oftentimes find a disease quitestrip the mind of all its ideas, and the flames of a fever in a few dayscalcine all those images to dust and confusion, which seemed to be aslasting as if graved in marble. 6. Constantly repeated Ideas can scarce be lost. But concerning the ideas themselves, it is easy to remark, that thosethat are oftenest refreshed (amongst which are those that are conveyedinto the mind by more ways than one) by a frequent return of the objectsor actions that produce them, fix themselves best in the memory, andremain clearest and longest there; and therefore those which are of theoriginal qualities of bodies, viz. Solidity, extension, figure, motion, and rest; and those that almost constantly affect our bodies, as heatand cold; and those which are the affections of all kinds of beings, asexistence, duration, and number, which almost every object that affectsour senses, every thought which employs our minds, bring along withthem;--these, I say, and the like ideas, are seldom quite lost, whilstthe mind retains any ideas at all. 7. In Remembering, the Mind is often active. In this secondary perception, as I may so call it, or viewing again theideas that are lodged in the memory, the mind is oftentimes more thanbarely passive; the appearance of those dormant pictures dependingsometimes on the WILL. The mind very often sets itself on work in searchof some hidden idea, and turns as it were the eye of the soul upon it;though sometimes too they start up in our minds of their own accord, andoffer themselves to the understanding; and very often are roused andtumbled out of their dark cells into open daylight, by turbulent andtempestuous passions; our affections bringing ideas to our memory, whichhad otherwise lain quiet and unregarded. This further is to be observed, concerning ideas lodged in the memory, and upon occasion revived by themind, that they are not only (as the word REVIVE imports) none of themnew ones, but also that the mind takes notice of them as of a formerimpression, and renews its acquaintance with them, as with ideas ithad known before. So that though ideas formerly imprinted are not allconstantly in view, yet in remembrance they are constantly known to besuch as have been formerly imprinted; i. E. In view, and taken notice ofbefore, by the understanding. 8. Two defects in the Memory, Oblivion and Slowness. Memory, in an intellectual creature, is necessary in the next degree toperception. It is of so great moment, that, where it is wanting, allthe rest of our faculties are in a great measure useless. And we in ourthoughts, reasonings, and knowledge, could not proceed beyond presentobjects, were it not for the assistance of our memories; wherein theremay be two defects:-- First, That it loses the idea quite, and so far it produces perfectignorance. For, since we can know nothing further than we have the ideaof it, when that is gone, we are in perfect ignorance. Secondly, That it moves slowly, and retrieves not the ideas that it has, and are laid up in store, quick enough to serve the mind upon occasion. This, if it be to a great degree, is stupidity; and he who, throughthis default in his memory, has not the ideas that are really preservedthere, ready at hand when need and occasion calls for them, were almostas good be without them quite, since they serve him to little purpose. The dull man, who loses the opportunity, whilst he is seeking in hismind for those ideas that should serve his turn, is not much more happyin his knowledge than one that is perfectly ignorant. It is the businesstherefore of the memory to furnish to the mind those dormant ideas whichit has present occasion for; in the having them ready at hand on alloccasions, consists that which we call invention, fancy, and quicknessof parts. 9. A defect which belongs to the memory of Man, as finite. These are defects we may observe in the memory of one man compared withanother. There is another defect which we may conceive to be inthe memory of man in general;--compared with some superior createdintellectual beings, which in this faculty may so far excel man, thatthey may have CONSTANTLY in view the whole scene of all their formeractions, wherein no one of the thoughts they have ever had may slip outof their sight. The omniscience of God, who knows all things, past, present, and to come, and to whom the thoughts of men's hearts alwayslie open, may satisfy us of the possibility of this. For who can doubtbut God may communicate to those glorious spirits, his immediateattendants, any of his perfections; in what proportions he pleases, asfar as created finite beings can be capable? It is reported of thatprodigy of parts, Monsieur Pascal, that till the decay of his health hadimpaired his memory, he forgot nothing of what he had done, read, orthought, in any part of his rational age. This is a privilege so littleknown to most men, that it seems almost incredible to those who, afterthe ordinary way, measure all others by themselves; but yet, whenconsidered, may help us to enlarge our thoughts towards greaterperfections of it, in superior ranks of spirits. For this of MonsieurPascal was still with the narrowness that human minds are confined tohere, --of having great variety of ideas only by succession, not all atonce. Whereas the several degrees of angels may probably have largerviews; and some of them be endowed with capacities able to retaintogether, and constantly set before them, as in one picture, all theirpast knowledge at once. This, we may conceive, would be no smalladvantage to the knowledge of a thinking man, --if all his past thoughtsand reasonings could be ALWAYS present to him. And therefore we maysuppose it one of those ways, wherein the knowledge of separate spiritsmay exceedingly surpass ours. 10. Brutes have Memory. This faculty of laying up and retaining the ideas that are brought intothe mind, several other animals seem to have to a great degree, as wellas man. For, to pass by other instances, birds learning of tunes, andthe endeavours one may observe in them to hit the notes right, put itpast doubt with me, that they have perception, and retain ideas in theirmemories, and use them for patterns. For it seems to me impossible thatthey should endeavour to conform their voices to notes (as it is plainthey do) of which they had no ideas. For, though I should grant soundmay mechanically cause a certain motion of the animal spirits in thebrains of those birds, whilst the tune is actually playing; and thatmotion may be continued on to the muscles of the wings, and so the birdmechanically be driven away by certain noises, because this may tend tothe bird's preservation; yet that can never be supposed a reason why itshould cause mechanically--either whilst the tune is playing, much lessafter it has ceased--such a motion of the organs in the bird's voice asshould conform it to the notes of a foreign sound, which imitation canbe of no use to the bird's preservation. But, which is more, it cannotwith any appearance of reason be supposed (much less proved) that birds, without sense and memory, can approach their notes nearer and nearer bydegrees to a tune played yesterday; which if they have no idea of intheir memory, is now nowhere, nor can be a pattern for them to imitate, or which any repeated essays can bring them nearer to. Since there isno reason why the sound of a pipe should leave traces in their brains, which, not at first, but by their after-endeavours, should produce thelike sounds; and why the sounds they make themselves, should not maketraces which they should follow, as well as those of the pipe, isimpossible to conceive. CHAPTER XI. OF DISCERNING, AND OTHER OPERATIONS OF THE MIND. 1. No Knowledge without Discernment. Another faculty we may take notice of in our minds is that of DISCERNINGand DISTINGUISHING between the several ideas it has. It is not enough tohave a confused perception of something in general. Unless the mind hada distinct perception of different objects and their qualities, it wouldbe capable of very little knowledge, though the bodies that affect uswere as busy about us as they are now, and the; mind were continuallyemployed in thinking. On this faculty of distinguishing one thingfrom another depends the evidence and certainty of several, even verygeneral, propositions, which have passed for innate truths;--becausemen, overlooking the true cause why those propositions find universalassent, impute it wholly to native uniform impressions; whereas it intruth depends upon this clear discerning faculty of the mind, wherebyit PERCEIVES two ideas to be the same, or different. But of this morehereafter. 2. The Difference of Wit and Judgment. How much the imperfection of accurately discriminating ideas one fromanother lies, either in the dulness or faults of the organs of sense;or want of acuteness, exercise, or attention in the understanding; orhastiness and precipitancy, natural to some tempers, I will not hereexamine: it suffices to take notice, that this is one of the operationsthat the mind may reflect on and observe in itself. It is of thatconsequence to its other knowledge, that so far as this faculty is initself dull, or not rightly made use of, for the distinguishing onething from another, --so far our notions are confused, and our reason andjudgment disturbed or misled. If in having our ideas in the memory readyat hand consists quickness of parts; in this, of having them unconfused, and being able nicely to distinguish one thing from another, where thereis but the least difference, consists, in a great measure, the exactnessof judgment, and clearness of reason, which is to be observed in one manabove another. And hence perhaps may be given some reason of thatcommon observation, --that men who have a great deal of wit, and promptmemories, have not always the clearest judgment or deepest reason. ForWIT lying most in the assemblage of ideas, and putting those togetherwith quickness and variety, wherein can be found any resemblance orcongruity, thereby to make up pleasant pictures and agreeable visions inthe fancy; JUDGMENT, on the contrary, lies quite on the other side, inseparating carefully, one from another, ideas wherein can be found theleast difference, thereby to avoid being misled by similitude, and byaffinity to take one thing for another. This is a way of proceedingquite contrary to metaphor and allusion; wherein for the most part liesthat entertainment and pleasantry of wit, which strikes so lively on thefancy, and therefore is so acceptable to all people, because its beautyappears at first sight, and there is required no labour of thought toexamine what truth or reason there is in it. The mind, without lookingany further, rests satisfied with the agreeableness of the picture andthe gaiety of the fancy. And it is a kind of affront to go about toexamine it, by the severe rules of truth and good reason; whereby itappears that it consists in something that is not perfectly conformableto them. 3. Clearness alone hinders Confusion. To the well distinguishing our ideas, it chiefly contributes that theybe CLEAR and DETERMINATE. And when they are so, it will not breed anyconfusion or mistake about them, though the senses should (as sometimesthey do) convey them from the same object differently on differentoccasions, and so seem to err. For, though a man in a fever should fromsugar have a bitter taste, which at another time would produce a sweetone, yet the idea of bitter in that man's mind would be as clear anddistinct from the idea of sweet as if he had tasted only gall. Nor doesit make any more confusion between the two ideas of sweet and bitterthat the same sort of body produces at one time one, and at another timeanother idea by the taste, than it makes a confusion in two ideas ofwhite and sweet, or white and round, that the same piece of sugarproduces them both in the mind at the same time. And the ideas oforange-colour and azure, that are produced in the mind by the sameparcel of the infusion of lignum nephritmim, are no less distinct ideasthan those of the same colours taken from two very different bodies. 4. Comparing. The COMPARING them one with another, in respect of extent, degrees, time, place, or any other circumstances, is another operation of themind about its ideas, and is that upon which depends all that largetribe of ideas comprehended under RELATION; which, of how vast an extentit is, I shall have occasion to consider hereafter. 5. Brutes compare but imperfectly. How far brutes partake in this faculty, is not easy to determine. Iimagine they have it not in any great degree, for, though they probablyhave several ideas distinct enough, yet it seems to me to be theprerogative of human understanding, when it has sufficientlydistinguished any ideas, so as to perceive them to be perfectlydifferent, and so consequently two, to cast about and consider in whatcircumstances they are capable to be compared. And therefore, I think, beasts compare not their ideas further than some sensible circumstancesannexed to the objects themselves. The other power of comparing, whichmay be observed in men, belonging to general ideas, and useful only toabstract reasonings, we may probably conjecture beasts have not. 6. Compounding. The next operation we may observe in the mind about its ideas isCOMPOSITION; whereby it puts together several of those simple ones ithas received from sensation and reflection, and combines them intocomplex ones. Under this of composition may be reckoned also that ofENLARGING, wherein, though the composition does not so much appear asin more complex ones, yet it is nevertheless a putting several ideastogether, though of the same kind. Thus, by adding several unitstogether, we make the idea of a dozen; and putting together the repeatedideas of several perches, we frame that of a furlong. 7. Brutes compound but little. In this also, I suppose, brutes come far short of man. For, though theytake in, and retain together, several combinations of simple ideas, aspossibly the shape, smell, and voice of his master make up the complexidea a dog has of him, or rather are so many distinct marks whereby heknows him; yet I do not think they do of themselves ever compound them, and make complex ideas. And perhaps even where we think they havecomplex ideas, it is only one simple one that directs them in theknowledge of several things, which possibly they distinguish less bytheir sight than we imagine. For I have been credibly informed that abitch will nurse, play with, and be fond of young foxes, as much as, andin place of her puppies, if you can but get them once to suck her solong that her milk may go through them. And those animals which have anumerous brood of young ones at once, appear not to have any knowledgeof their number; for though they are mightily concerned for any of theiryoung that are taken from them whilst they are in sight or hearing, yetif one or two of them be stolen from them in their absence, or withoutnoise, they appear not to miss them, or to have any sense that theirnumber is lessened. 8. Naming. When children have, by repeated sensations, got ideas fixed in theirmemories, they begin by degrees to learn the use of signs. And whenthey have got the skill to apply the organs of speech to the framing ofarticulate sounds, they begin to make use of words, to signify theirideas to others. These verbal signs they sometimes borrow from others, and sometimes make themselves, as one may observe among the new andunusual names children often give to things in the first use oflanguage. 9. Abstraction. The use of words then being to stand as outward mark of our internalideas, and those ideas being taken from particular things, if everyparticular idea that we take up should have a distinct name, namesmust be endless. To prevent this, the mind makes the particular ideasreceived from particular objects to become general; which is done byconsidering them as they are in the mind such appearances, --separatefrom all other existences, and the circumstances of real existence, astime, place, or any other concomitant ideas. This is calledABSTRACTION, whereby ideas taken from particular beings become generalrepresentatives of all of the same kind; and their names general names, applicable to whatever exists conformable to such abstract ideas. Suchprecise, naked appearances in the mind, without considering how, whence, or with what others they came there, the understanding lays up (withnames commonly annexed to them) as the standards to rank real existencesinto sorts, as they agree with these patterns, and to denominate themaccordingly. Thus the same colour being observed to-day in chalk orsnow, which the mind yesterday received from milk, it considers thatappearance alone, makes it a representative of all of that kind; andhaving given it the name WHITENESS, it by that sound signifies the samequality wheresoever to be imagined or met with; and thus universals, whether ideas or terms, are made. 10. Brutes abstract not. If it may be doubted whether beasts compound and enlarge their ideasthat way to any degree; this, I think, I may be positive in, --that thepower of abstracting is not at all in them; and that the having ofgeneral ideas is that which puts a perfect distinction betwixt man andbrutes, and is an excellency which the faculties of brutes do by nomeans attain to. For it is evident we observe no footsteps in them ofmaking use of general signs for universal ideas; from which we havereason to imagine that they have not the faculty of abstracting, ormaking general ideas, since they have no use of words, or any othergeneral signs. 11. Brutes abstract not, yet are nor bare machines. Nor can it be imputed to their want of fit organs to frame articulatesounds, that they have no use or knowledge of general words; sincemany of them, we find, can fashion such sounds, and pronounce wordsdistinctly enough, but never with any such application. And, on theother side, men who, through some defect in the organs, want words, yetfail not to express their universal ideas by signs, which serve theminstead of general words, a faculty which we see beasts come short in. And, therefore, I think, we may suppose, that it is in this that thespecies of brutes are discriminated from man: and it is that properdifference wherein they are wholly separated, and which at last widensto so vast a distance. For if they have any ideas at all, and are notbare machines, (as some would have them, ) we cannot deny them to havesome reason. It seems as evident to me, that they do reason, as thatthey have sense; but it is only in particular ideas, just as theyreceived them from their senses. They are the best of them tied upwithin those narrow bounds, and have not (as I think) the faculty toenlarge them by any kind of abstraction. 12. Idiots and Madmen. How far idiots are concerned in the want or weakness of any, or all ofthe foregoing faculties, an exact observation of their several ways offaultering would no doubt discover. For those who either perceive butdully, or retain the ideas that come into their minds but ill, whocannot readily excite or compound them, will have little matter to thinkon. Those who cannot distinguish, compare, and abstract, would hardly beable to understand and make use of language, or judge or reason toany tolerable degree; but only a little and imperfectly about thingspresent, and very familiar to their senses. And indeed any of theforementioned faculties, if wanting, or out of order, produce suitabledefects in men's understandings and knowledge. 13. Difference between Idiots and Madmen. In fine, the defect in naturals seems to proceed from want of quickness, activity, and motion in the intellectual faculties, whereby they aredeprived of reason; whereas madmen, on the other side, seem to suffer bythe other extreme. For they do not appear to me to have lost the facultyof reasoning, but having joined together some ideas very wrongly, theymistake them for truths; and they err as men do that argue right fromwrong principles. For, by the violence of their imaginations, havingtaken their fancies for realities, they make right deductions from them. Thus you shall find a distracted man fancying himself a king, with aright inference require suitable attendance, respect, and obedience:others who have thought themselves made of glass, have used the cautionnecessary to preserve such brittle bodies. Hence it comes to pass that aman who is very sober, and of a right understanding in all other things, may in one particular be as frantic as any in Bedlam; if either by anysudden very strong impression, or long fixing his fancy upon one sort ofthoughts, incoherent ideas have been cemented together so powerfully, as to remain united. But there are degrees of madness, as of folly; thedisorderly jumbling ideas together is in some more, and some less. Inshort, herein seems to lie the difference between idiots and madmen:that madmen put wrong ideas together, and so make wrong propositions, but argue and reason right from them; but idiots make very few or nopropositions, and reason scarce at all. 14. Method followed in this explication of Faculties. These, I think, are the first faculties and operations of the mind, which it makes use of in understanding; and though they are exercisedabout all its ideas in general, yet the instances I have hitherto givenhave been chiefly in simple ideas. And I have subjoined the explicationof these faculties of the mind to that of simple ideas, before I cometo what I have to say concerning complex ones, for these followingreasons:-- First, Because several of these faculties being exercised at firstprincipally about simple ideas, we might, by following nature in itsordinary method, trace and discover them, in their rise, progress, andgradual improvements. Secondly, Because observing the faculties of the mind, how they operateabout simple ideas, --which are usually, in most men's minds, much moreclear, precise, and distinct than complex ones, --we may the betterexamine and learn how the mind extracts, denominates, compares, andexercises, in its other operations about those which are complex, wherein we are much more liable to mistake. Thirdly, Because thesevery operations of the mind about ideas received from sensations, arethemselves, when reflected on, another set of ideas, derived from thatother source of our knowledge, which I call reflection; and thereforefit to be considered in this place after the simple ideas of sensation. Of compounding, comparing, abstracting, &c. , I have but just spoken, having occasion to treat of them more at large in other places. 15. The true Beginning of Human Knowledge. And thus I have given a short, and, I think, true HISTORY OF THE FIRSTBEGINNINGS OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE;--whence the mind has its first objects;and by what steps it makes its progress to the laying in and storingup those ideas, out of which is to be framed all the knowledge it iscapable of: wherein I must appeal to experience and observation whetherI am in the right: the best way to come to truth being to examinethings as really they are, and not to conclude they are, as we fancy ofourselves, or have been taught by others to imagine. 16. Appeal to Experience. To deal truly, this is the only way that I can discover, whereby theIDEAS OF THINGS are brought into the understanding. If other men haveeither innate ideas or infused principles, they have reason to enjoythem; and if they are sure of it, it is impossible for others to denythem the privilege that they have above their neighbours. I can speakbut of what I find in myself, and is agreeable to those notions, which, if we will examine the whole course of men in their several ages, countries, and educations, seem to depend on those foundations whichI have laid, and to correspond with this method in all the parts anddegrees thereof. 17. Dark Room. I pretend not to teach, but to inquire; and therefore cannot but confesshere again, --that external and internal sensation are the only passagesI can find of knowledge to the understanding. These alone, as far as Ican discover, are the windows by which light is let into this DARK ROOM. For, methinks, the understanding is not much unlike a closet wholly shutfrom light, with only some little openings left, to let in externalvisible resemblances, or ideas of things without: which, would they butstay there, and lie so orderly as to be found upon occasion, it wouldvery much resemble the understanding of a man, in reference to allobjects of sight, and the ideas of them. These are my guesses concerning the means whereby the understandingcomes to have and retain simple ideas, and the modes of them, with someother operations about them. I proceed now to examine some of these simple ideas an their modes alittle more particularly. CHAPTER XII. OF COMPLEX IDEAS. 1. Made by the Mind out of simple Ones. We have hitherto considered those ideas, in the reception whereofthe mind is only passive, which are those simple ones received fromsensation and reflection before mentioned, whereof the mind cannot makeone to itself, nor have any idea which does not wholly consist of them. As simple ideas are observed to exist in several combinations unitedtogether, so the mind has a power to consider several of them unitedtogether as one idea; and that not only as they are united in externalobjects, but as itself has joined them together. Ideas thus made up ofseveral simple ones put together, I call COMPLEX;--such as are beauty, gratitude, a man, an army, the universe; which, though complicated ofvarious simple ideas, or complex ideas made up of simple ones, yet are, when the mind pleases, considered each by itself, as one entire thing, signified by one name. 2. Made voluntarily. In this faculty of repeating and joining together its ideas, the mindhas great power in varying and multiplying the objects of its thoughts, infinitely beyond what sensation or reflection furnished it with: butall this still confined to those simple ideas which it received fromthose two sources, and which are the ultimate materials of all itscompositions. For simple ideas are all from things themselves, and ofthese the mind CAN have no more, nor other than what are suggested toit. It can have no other ideas of sensible qualities than what comefrom without [*dropped word] the senses; nor any ideas of other kind ofoperations of a thinking substance, than what it finds in itself. Butwhen it has once got these simple ideas, it is not confined barely toobservation, and what offers itself from without; it can, by its ownpower, put together those ideas it has, and make new complex ones, whichit never received so united. 3. Complex ideas are either of Modes, Substances, or Relations. COMPLEX IDEAS, however compounded and decompounded, though their numberbe infinite, and the variety endless, wherewith they fill and entertainthe thoughts of men; yet I think they may be all reduced under thesethree heads:--1. MODES. 2. SUBSTANCES. 3. RELATIONS. 4. Ideas of Modes. First, MODES I call such complex ideas which, however compounded, contain not in them the supposition of subsisting by themselves, but areconsidered as dependences on, or affections of substances;--such as arethe ideas signified by the words triangle, gratitude, murder, &c. Andif in this I use the word mode in somewhat a different sense fromits ordinary signification, I beg pardon; it being unavoidable indiscourses, differing from the ordinary received notions, either to makenew words, or to use old words in somewhat a new signification; thelater whereof, in our present case, is perhaps the more tolerable of thetwo. 5. Simple and mixed Modes of Ideas. Of these MODES, there are two sorts which deserve distinctconsideration:-- First, there are some which are only variations, or differentcombinations of the same simple idea, without the mixture of anyother;--as a dozen, or score; which are nothing but the ideas of so manydistinct units added together, and these I call SIMPLE MODES as beingcontained within the bounds of one simple idea. Secondly, there are others compounded of simple ideas of several kinds, put together to make one complex one;--v. G. Beauty, consisting ofa certain composition of colour and figure, causing delight to thebeholder; theft, which being the concealed change of the possessionof anything, without the consent of the proprietor, contains, as isvisible, a combination of several ideas of several kinds: and these Icall MIXED MODES. 6. Ideas of Substances, single or collective. Secondly, the ideas of SUBSTANCES are such combinations of simple ideasas are taken to represent distinct PARTICULAR things subsisting bythemselves; in which the supposed or confused idea of substance, such asit is, is always the first and chief. Thus if to substance be joined thesimple idea of a certain dull whitish colour, with certain degrees ofweight, hardness, ductility, and fusibility, we have the idea of lead;and a combination of the ideas of a certain sort of figure, with thepowers of motion, thought and reasoning, joined to substance, make theordinary idea of a man. Now of substances also, there are two sorts ofideas:--one of SINGLE substances, as they exist separately, as of a manor a sheep; the other of several of those put together, as an army ofmen, or flock of sheep--which COLLECTIVE ideas of several substancesthus put together are as much each of them one single idea as that of aman or an unit. 7. Ideas of Relation. Thirdly, the last sort of complex ideas is that we call RELATION, whichconsists in the consideration and comparing one idea with another. Of these several kinds we shall treat in their order. 8. The abstrusest Ideas we can have are all from two Sources. If we trace the progress of our minds, and with attention observe howit repeats, adds together, and unites its simple ideas received fromsensation or reflection, it will lead us further than at first perhapswe should have imagined. And, I believe, we shall find, if we warilyobserve the originals of our notions, that EVEN THE MOST ABSTRUSE IDEAS, how remote soever they may seem from sense, or from any operations ofour own minds, are yet only such as the understanding frames to itself, by repeating and joining together ideas that it had either from objectsof sense, or from its own operations about them: so that those evenlarge and abstract ideas are derived from sensation or reflection, beingno other than what the mind, by the ordinary use of its own faculties, employed about ideas received from objects of sense, or from theoperations it observes in itself about them, may, and does, attain unto. This I shall endeavour to show in the ideas we have of space, time, andinfinity, and some few others that seem the most remote, from thoseoriginals. CHAPTER XIII. COMPLEX IDEAS OF SIMPLE MODES:--AND FIRST, OF THE SIMPLE MODES OF IDEAOF SPACE. 1. Simple modes of simple ideas. Though in the foregoing part I have often mentioned simple ideas, whichare truly the materials of all our knowledge; yet having treated ofthem there, rather in the way that they come into the mind, than asdistinguished from others more compounded, it will not be perhaps amissto take a view of some of them again under this consideration, andexamine those different modifications of the SAME idea; which the mindeither finds in things existing, or is able to make within itselfwithout the help of any extrinsical object, or any foreign suggestion. Those modifications of any ONE simple idea (which, as has been said, Icall SIMPLE MODES) are as perfectly different and distinct ideas in themind as those of the greatest distance or contrariety. For the idea oftwo is as distinct from that of one, as blueness from heat, or either ofthem from any number: and yet it is made up only of that simple ideaof an unit repeated; and repetitions of this kind joined together makethose distinct simple modes, of a dozen, a gross, a million. SimpleModes of Idea of Space. 2. Idea of Space. I shall begin with the simple idea of SPACE. I have showed above, chap. 4, that we get the idea of space, both by our sight and touch; which, Ithink, is so evident, that it would be as needless to go to prove thatmen perceive, by their sight, a distance between bodies of differentcolours, or between the parts of the same body, as that they see coloursthemselves: nor is it less obvious, that they can do so in the dark byfeeling and touch. 3. Space and Extension. This space, considered barely in length between any two beings, without considering anything else between them, is called DISTANCE: ifconsidered in length, breadth, and thickness, I think it may be calledCAPACITY. When considered between the extremities of matter, which fillsthe capacity of space with something solid, tangible, and moveable, itis properly called EXTENSION. And so extension is an idea belonging tobody only; but space may, as is evident, be considered without it. Atlest I think it most intelligible, and the best way to avoid confusion, if we use the word extension for an affection of matter or the distanceof the extremities of particular solid bodies; and space in the moregeneral signification, for distance, with or without solid matterpossessing it. 4. Immensity. Each different distance is a different modification of space; and eachidea of any different distance, or space, is a SIMPLE MODE of this idea. Men having, by accustoming themselves to stated lengths of space, whichthey use for measuring other distances--as a foot, a yard or a fathom, aleague, or diameter of the earth--made those ideas familiar to theirthoughts, can, in their minds, repeat them as often as they will, without mixing or joining to them the idea of body, or anything else;and frame to themselves the ideas of long, square, or cubic feet, yardsor fathoms, here amongst the bodies of the universe, or else beyond theutmost bounds of all bodies; and, by adding these still one to another, enlarge their ideas of space as much as they please. The power ofrepeating or doubling any idea we have of any distance, and adding it tothe former as often as we will, without being ever able to come to anystop or stint, let us enlarge it as much as we will, is that which givesus the idea of IMMENSITY. 5. Figure. There is another modification of this idea, which is nothing butthe relation which the parts of the termination of extension, orcircumscribed space, have amongst themselves. This the touch discoversin sensible bodies, whose extremities come within our reach; and theeye takes both from bodies and colours, whose boundaries are withinits view: where, observing how the extremities terminate, --either instraight lines which meet at discernible angles, or in crooked lineswherein no angles can be perceived; by considering these as they relateto one another, in all parts of the extremities of any body or space, it has that idea we call FIGURE, which affords to the mind infinitevariety. For, besides the vast number of different figures that doreally exist in the coherent masses of matter, the stock that the mindhas in its power, by varying the idea of space, and thereby making stillnew compositions, by repeating its own ideas, and joining them as itpleases, is perfectly inexhaustible. And so it can multiply figures ININFINITUM. 6. Endless variety of figures. For the mind having a power to repeat the idea of any length directlystretched out, and join it to another in the same direction, which is todouble the length of that straight line; or else join another with whatinclination it thinks fit, and so make what sort of angle it pleases:and being able also to shorten any line it imagines, by taking from itone half, one fourth, or what part it pleases, without being able tocome to an end of any such divisions, it can make an angle of anybigness. So also the lines that are its sides, of what length itpleases, which joining again to other lines, of different lengths, and at different angles, till it has wholly enclosed any space, it isevident that it can multiply figures, both in their shape and capacity, IN INFINITUM; all which are but so many different simple modes of space. The same that it can do with straight lines, it can also do withcrooked, or crooked and straight together; and the same it can do inlines, it can also in superficies; by which we may be led into fartherthoughts of the endless variety of figures that the mind has a power tomake, and thereby to multiply the simple modes of space. 7. Place. Another idea coming under this head, and belonging to this tribe, isthat we call PLACE. As in simple space, we consider the relation ofdistance between any two bodies or points; so in our idea of place, weconsider the relation of distance betwixt anything, and any two or morepoints, which are considered as keeping the same distance one withanother, and so considered as at rest. For when we find anything at thesame distance now which it was yesterday, from any two or more points, which have not since changed their distance one with another, and withwhich we then compared it, we say it hath kept the same place: but if ithath sensibly altered its distance with either of those points, we sayit hath changed its place: though, vulgarly speaking, in the commonnotion of place, we do not always exactly observe the distance fromthese precise points, but from larger portions of sensible objects, towhich we consider the thing placed to bear relation, and its distancefrom which we have some reason to observe. 8. Place relative to particular bodies. Thus, a company of chess-men, standing on the same squares of thechess-board where we left them, we say they are all in the SAME place, or unmoved, though perhaps the chessboard hath been in the mean timecarried out of one room into another; because we compared them only tothe parts of the chess-board, which keep the same distance one withanother. The chess-board, we also say, is in the same place it was, ifit remain in the same part of the cabin, though perhaps the ship whichit is in sails all the while. And the ship is said to be in the sameplace, supposing it kept the same distance with the parts of theneighbouring land; though perhaps the earth hath turned round, and soboth chess-men, and board, and ship, have every one changed place, inrespect of remoter bodies, which have kept the same distance one withanother. But yet the distance from certain parts of the board being thatwhich determines the place of the chess-men; and the distance from thefixed parts of the cabin (with which we made the comparison) being thatwhich determined the place of the chess-board; and the fixed parts ofthe earth that by which we determined the place of the ship, --thesethings may be said to be in the same place in those respects: thoughtheir distance from some other things, which in this matter we did notconsider, being varied, they have undoubtedly changed place in thatrespect; and we ourselves shall think so, when we have occasion tocompare them with those other. 9. Place relative to a present purpose. But this modification of distance we call place, being made by men fortheir common use, that by it they might be able to design the particularposition of things, where they had occasion for such designation; menconsider and determine of this place by reference to those adjacentthings which best served to their present purpose, without consideringother things which, to another purpose, would better determine the placeof the same thing. Thus in the chess-board, the use of the designationof the place of each chess-man being determined only within thatchequered piece of wood, it would cross that purpose to measure it byanything else; but when these very chess-men are put up in a bag, if anyone should ask where the black king is, it would be proper to determinethe place by the part of the room it was in, and not by the chessboard;there being another use of designing the place it is now in, than whenin play it was on the chessboard, and so must be determined by otherbodies. So if any one should ask, in what place are the verses whichreport the story of Nisus and Euryalus, it would be very improper todetermine this place, by saying, they were in such a part of the earth, or in Bodley's library: but the right designation of the place would beby the parts of Virgil's works; and the proper answer would be, thatthese verses were about the middle of the ninth book of his AEneids, and that they have been always constantly in the same place ever sinceVirgil was printed: which is true, though the book itself hath moved athousand times, the use of the idea of place here being, to know in whatpart of the book that story is, that so, upon occasion, we may knowwhere to find it, and have recourse to it for use. 10. Place of the universe. That our idea of place is nothing else but such a relative positionof anything as I have before mentioned, I think is plain, and will beeasily admitted, when we consider that we can have no idea of the placeof the universe, though we can of all the parts of it; because beyondthat we have not the idea of any fixed, distinct, particular beings, inreference to which we can imagine it to have any relation of distance;but all beyond it is one uniform space or expansion, wherein the mindfinds no variety, no marks. For to say that the world is somewhere, means no more than that it does exist; this, though a phrase borrowedfrom place, signifying only its existence, not location: and when onecan find out, and frame in his mind, clearly and distinctly the placeof the universe, he will be able to tell us whether it moves or standsstill in the undistinguishable inane of infinite space: though it betrue that the word place has sometimes a more confused sense, and standsfor that space which anybody takes up; and so the universe is in aplace. The idea, therefore, of place we have by the same means thatwe get the idea of space, (whereof this is but a particular limitedconsideration, ) viz. By our sight and touch; by either of which wereceive into our minds the ideas of extension or distance. 11. Extension and Body not the same. There are some that would persuade us, that body and extension are thesame thing, who either change the signification of words, which I wouldnot suspect them of, --they having so severely condemned the philosophyof others, because it hath been too much placed in the uncertainmeaning, or deceitful obscurity of doubtful or insignificant terms. If, therefore, they mean by body and extension the same that other peopledo, viz. By BODY something that is solid and extended, whose parts areseparable and movable different ways; and by EXTENSION, only the spacethat lies between the extremities of those solid coherent parts, andwhich is possessed by them, --they confound very different ideas one withanother; for I appeal to every man's own thoughts, whether the idea ofspace be not as distinct from that of solidity, as it is from the ideaof scarlet colour? It is true, solidity cannot exist without extension, neither can scarlet colour exist without extension, but this hindersnot, but that they are distinct ideas. Many ideas require others, asnecessary to their existence or conception, which yet are very distinctideas. Motion can neither be, nor be conceived, without space; and yetmotion is not space, nor space motion; space can exist without it, andthey are very distinct ideas; and so, I think, are those of space andsolidity. Solidity is so inseparable an idea from body, that upon thatdepends its filling of space, its contact, impulse, and communicationof motion upon impulse. And if it be a reason to prove that spirit isdifferent from body, because thinking includes not the idea of extensionin it; the same reason will be as valid, I suppose, to prove that spaceis not body, because it includes not the idea of solidity in it; SPACEand SOLIDITY being as distinct ideas as THINKING and EXTENSION, and aswholly separable in the mind one from another. Body then and extension, it is evident, are two distinct ideas. For, 12. Extension not solidity. First, Extension includes no solidity, nor resistance to the motion ofbody, as body does. 13. The parts of space inseparable, both really and mentally. Secondly, The parts of pure space are inseparable one from the other;so that the continuity cannot be separated, both neither really normentally. For I demand of any one to remove any part of it from another, with which it is continued, even so much as in thought. To divideand separate actually is, as I think, by removing the parts one fromanother, to make two superficies, where before there was a continuity:and to divide mentally is, to make in the mind two superficies, wherebefore there was a continuity, and consider them as removed one fromthe other; which can only be done in things considered by the mind ascapable of being separated; and by separation, of acquiring new distinctsuperficies, which they then have not, but are capable of. But neitherof these ways of separation, whether real or mental, is, as I think, compatible to pure space. It is true, a man may consider so much of such a space as is answerableor commensurate to a foot, without considering the rest, which is, indeed, a partial consideration, but not so much as mental separation ordivision; since a man can no more mentally divide, without consideringtwo superficies separate one from the other, than he can actuallydivide, without making two superficies disjoined one from the other: buta partial consideration is not separating. A man may consider light inthe sun without its heat, or mobility in body without its extension, without thinking of their separation. One is only a partialconsideration, terminating in one alone; and the other is aconsideration of both, as existing separately. 14. The parts of space immovable. Thirdly, The parts of pure space are immovable, which follows from theirinseparability; motion being nothing but change of distance betweenany two things; but this cannot be between parts that are inseparable, which, therefore, must needs be at perpetual rest one amongst another. Thus the determined idea of simple space distinguishes it plainly andsufficiently from body; since its parts are inseparable, immovable, and without resistance to the motion of body. 15. The Definition of Extension explains it not. If any one ask me WHAT this space I speak of IS, I will tell him whenhe tells me what his extension is. For to say, as is usually done, thatextension is to have partes extra partes, is to say only, that extensionis extension. For what am I the better informed in the nature ofextension, when I am told that extension is to have parts that areextended, exterior to parts that are extended, i. E. Extension consistsof extended parts? As if one, asking what a fibre was, I should answerhim, --that it was a thing made up of several fibres. Would he therebybe enabled to understand what a fibre was better than he did before? Orrather, would he not have reason to think that my design was to makesport with him, rather than seriously to instruct him? 16. Division of Beings into Bodies and Spirits proves not Space and Bodythe same. Those who contend that space and body are the same, bring thisdilemma:--either this space is something or nothing; if nothing bebetween two bodies, they must necessarily touch; if it be allowed to besomething, they ask, Whether it be body or spirit? To which I answer byanother question, Who told them that there was, or could be, nothing;but SOLID BEINGS, WHICH COULD NOT THINK, and THINKING BEINGS THAT WERENOT EXTENDED?--which is all they mean by the terms BODY and SPIRIT. 17. Substance, which we know not, no Proof against Space without Body. If it be demanded (as usually it is) whether this space, void of body, be SUBSTANCE or ACCIDENT, I shall readily answer I know not; nor shallbe ashamed to own my ignorance, till they that ask show me a cleardistinct idea of substance. 18. Different meanings of substance. I endeavour as much as I can to deliver myself from those fallacieswhich we are apt to put upon ourselves, by taking words for things. Ithelps not our ignorance to feign a knowledge where we have none, bymaking a noise with sounds, without clear and distinct significations. Names made at pleasure, neither alter the nature of things, nor makeus understand them, but as they are signs of and stand for determinedideas. And I desire those who lay so much stress on the sound of thesetwo syllables, SUBSTANCE, to consider whether applying it, as they do, to the infinite, incomprehensible God, to finite spirits, and to body, it be in the same sense; and whether it stands for the same idea, wheneach of those three so different beings are called substances. If so, whether it will thence follow--that God, spirits, and body, agreeing inthe same common nature of substance, differ not any otherwise than in abare different MODIFICATION of that substance; as a tree and a pebble, being in the same sense body, and agreeing in the common nature of body, differ only in a bare modification of that common matter, which will bea very harsh doctrine. If they say, that they apply it to God, finitespirit, and matter, in three different significations and that it standsfor one idea when God is said to be a substance; for another when thesoul is called substance; and for a third when body is called so;--ifthe name substance stands for three several distinct ideas, they woulddo well to make known those distinct ideas, or at least to give threedistinct names to them, to prevent in so important a notion theconfusion and errors that will naturally follow from the promiscuoususe of so doubtful a term; which is so far from being suspected to havethree distinct, that in ordinary use it has scarce one clear distinctsignification. And if they can thus make three distinct ideas ofsubstance, what hinders why another may not make a fourth? 19. Substance and accidents of little use in Philosophy. They who first ran into the notion of ACCIDENTS, as a sort of realbeings that needed something to inhere in, were forced to find out theword SUBSTANCE to support them. Had the poor Indian philosopher (whoimagined that the earth also wanted something to bear it up) but thoughtof this word substance, he needed not to have been at the trouble tofind an elephant to support it, and a tortoise to support his elephant:the word substance would have done it effectually. And he thatinquired might have taken it for as good an answer from an Indianphilosopher, --that substance, without knowing what it is, is that whichsupports the earth, as take it for a sufficient answer and good doctrinefrom our European philosophers, --that substance, without knowing what itis, is that which supports accidents. So that of substance, we have noidea of what it is, but only a confused obscure one of what it does. 20. Sticking on and under-propping. Whatever a learned man may do here, an intelligent American, whoinquired into the nature of things, would scarce take it for asatisfactory account, if, desiring to learn our architecture, he shouldbe told that a pillar is a thing supported by a basis, and a basissomething that supported a pillar. Would he not think himself mocked, instead of taught, with such an account as this? And a stranger to themwould be very liberally instructed in the nature of books, and thethings they contained, if he should be told that all learned booksconsisted of paper and letters, and that letters were things inheringin paper, and paper a thing that held forth letters: a notable way ofhaving clear ideas of letters and paper. But were the Latin words, inhaerentia and substantio, put into the plain English ones that answerthem, and were called STICKING ON and UNDER-PROPPING, they would betterdiscover to us the very great clearness there is in the doctrine ofsubstance and accidents, and show of what use they are in deciding ofquestions in philosophy. 21. A Vacuum beyond the utmost Bounds of Body. But to return to our idea of space. If body be not supposed infinite, (which I think no one will affirm, ) I would ask, whether, if God placeda man at the extremity of corporeal beings, he could not stretch hishand beyond his body? If he could, then he would put his arm where therewas before space without body; and if there he spread his fingers, therewould still be space between them without body. If he could not stretchout his hand, it must be because of some external hindrance; (for wesuppose him alive, with such a power of moving the parts of his bodythat he hath now, which is not in itself impossible, if God so pleasedto have it; or at least it is not impossible for God so to move him:)and then I ask, --whether that which hinders his hand from movingoutwards be substance or accident, something or nothing? And when theyhave resolved that, they will be able to resolve themselves, --what thatis, which is or may be between two bodies at a distance, that is notbody, and has no solidity. In the mean time, the argument is at least asgood, that, where nothing hinders, (as beyond the utmost bounds of allbodies, ) a body put in motion may move on, as where there is nothingbetween, there two bodies must necessarily touch. For pure space betweenis sufficient to take away the necessity of mutual contact; but barespace in the way is not sufficient to stop motion. The truth is, thesemen must either own that they think body infinite, though they are lothto speak it out, or else affirm that space is not body. For I would fainmeet with that thinking man that can in his thoughts set any bounds tospace, more than he can to duration; or by thinking hope to arrive atthe end of either. And therefore, if his idea of eternity be infinite, so is his idea of immensity; they are both finite or infinite alike. 22. The Power of Annihilation proves a Vacuum. Farther, those who assert the impossibility of space existing withoutmatter, must not only make body infinite, but must also deny a power inGod to annihilate any part of matter. No one, I suppose, will deny thatGod can put an end to all motion that is in matter, and fix all thebodies of the universe in a perfect quiet and rest, and continue them solong as he pleases. Whoever then will allow that God can, during such ageneral rest, ANNIHILATE either this book or the body of him that readsit, must necessarily admit the possibility of a vacuum. For, it isevident that the space that was filled by the parts of the annihilatedbody will still remain, and be a space without body. For thecircumambient bodies being in perfect rest, are a wall of adamant, andin that state make it a perfect impossibility for any other body to getinto that space. And indeed the necessary motion of one particle ofmatter into the place from whence another particle of matter is removed, is but a consequence from the supposition of plenitude; which willtherefore need some better proof than a supposed matter of fact, whichexperiment can never make out;--our own clear and distinct ideas plainlysatisfying that there is no necessary connexion between space andsolidity, since we can conceive the one without the other. And those whodispute for or against a vacuum, do thereby confess they have distinctIDEAS of vacuum and plenum, i. E. That they have an idea of extensionvoid of solidity, though they deny its EXISTENCE; or else they disputeabout nothing at all. For they who so much alter the significationof words, as to call extension body, and consequently make the wholeessence of body to be nothing but pure extension without solidity, musttalk absurdly whenever they speak of vacuum; since it is impossible forextension to be without extension. For vacuum, whether we affirm or denyits existence, signifies space without body; whose very existence no onecan deny to be possible, who will not make matter infinite, and takefrom God a power to annihilate any particle of it. 23. Motion proves a Vacuum. But not to go so far as beyond the utmost bounds of body in theuniverse, nor appeal to God's omnipotency to find a vacuum, the motionof bodies that are in our view and neighbourhood seems to me plainlyto evince it. For I desire any one so to divide a solid body, of anydimension he pleases, as to make it possible for the solid parts to moveup and down freely every way within the bounds of that superficies, ifthere be not left in it a void space as big as the least part into whichhe has divided the said solid body. And if, where the least particle ofthe body divided is as big as a mustard-seed, a void space equal to thebulk of a mustard-seed be requisite to make room for the free motionof the parts of the divided body within the bounds of its superficies, where the particles of matter are 100, 000, 000 less than a mustard-seed, there must also be a space void of solid matter as big as 100, 000, 000part of a mustard-seed; for if it hold in the one it will hold in theother, and so on IN INFINITUM. And let this void space be as little asit will, it destroys the hypothesis of plenitude. For if there can be aspace void of body equal to the smallest separate particle of matter nowexisting in nature, it is still space without body; and makes as great adifference between space and body as if it were mega chasma, a distanceas wide as any in nature. And therefore, if we suppose not the voidspace necessary to motion equal to the least parcel of the divided solidmatter, but to 1/10 or 1/1000 of it, the same consequence will alwaysfollow of space without matter. 24. The Ideas of Space and Body distinct. But the question being here, --Whether the idea of space or extension bethe same with the idea of body? it is not necessary to prove the realexistence of a VACUUM, but the idea of it; which it is plain men havewhen they inquire and dispute whether there be a VACUUM or no. For ifthey had not the idea of space without body, they could not make aquestion about its existence: and if their idea of body did not includein it something more than the bare idea of space, they could have nodoubt about the plenitude of the world; and it would be as absurd todemand, whether there were space without body, as whether there werespace without space, or body without body, since these were butdifferent names of the same idea. 25. Extension being inseparable from Body, proves it not the same. It is true, the idea of extension joins itself so inseparably with allvisible, and most tangible qualities, that it suffers us to SEE no one, or FEEL very few external objects, without taking in impressions ofextension too. This readiness of extension to make itself be takennotice of so constantly with other ideas, has been the occasion, Iguess, that some have made the whole essence of body to consist inextension; which is not much to be wondered at, since some have hadtheir minds, by their eyes and touch, (the busiest of all our senses, )so filled with the idea of extension, and, as it were, wholly possessedwith it, that they allowed no existence to anything that had notextension. I shall not now argue with those men, who take the measureand possibility of all being only from their narrow and grossimaginations: but having here to do only with those who conclude theessence of body to be extension, because they say they cannot imagineany sensible quality of any body without extension, --I shall desirethem to consider, that, had they reflected on their ideas of tastes andsmells as much as on those of sight and touch; nay, had they examinedtheir ideas of hunger and thirst, and several other pains, they wouldhave found that THEY included in them no idea of extension at all, whichis but an affection of body, as well as the rest, discoverable by oursenses, which are scarce acute enough to look into the pure essences ofthings. 26. Essences of Things. If those ideas which are constantly joined to all others, must thereforebe concluded to be the essence of those things which have constantlythose ideas joined to them, and are inseparable from them; then unity iswithout doubt the essence of everything. For there is not any object ofsensation or reflection which does not carry with it the idea ofone: but the weakness of this kind of argument we have already shownsufficiently. 27. Ideas of Space and Solidity distinct. To conclude: whatever men shall think concerning the existence of aVACUUM, this is plain to me--that we have as clear an idea of spacedistinct from solidity, as we have of solidity distinct from motion, ormotion from space. We have not any two more distinct ideas; and we canas easily conceive space without solidity, as we can conceive body orspace without motion, though it be never so certain that neither bodynor motion can exist without space. But whether any one will take spaceto be only a RELATION resulting from the existence of other beings at adistance; or whether they will think the words of the most knowing KingSolomon, 'The heaven, and the heaven of heavens, cannot contain thee;'or those more emphatical ones of the inspired philosopher St. Paul, 'In him we live, move, and have our being, ' are to be understood in aliteral sense, I leave every one to consider: only our idea of space is, I think, such as I have mentioned, and distinct from that of body. For, whether we consider, in matter itself, the distance of its coherentsolid parts, and call it, in respect of those solid parts, extension; orwhether, considering it as lying between the extremities of any body inits several dimensions, we call it length, breadth, and thickness; orelse, considering it as lying between any two bodies or positive beings, without any consideration whether there be any matter or not between, wecall it distance;--however named or considered, it is always the sameuniform simple idea of space, taken from objects about which our senseshave been conversant; whereof, having settled ideas in our minds, we canrevive, repeat, and add them one to another as often as we will, andconsider the space or distance so imagined, either as filled with solidparts, so that another body cannot come there without displacing andthrusting out the body that was there before; or else as void ofsolidity, so that a body of equal dimensions to that empty or pure spacemay be placed in it, without the removing or expulsion of anything thatwas, there. 28. Men differ little in clear, simple ideas. The knowing precisely what our words stand for, would, I imagine, inthis as well as a great many other cases, quickly end the dispute. ForI am apt to think that men, when they come to examine them, find theirsimple ideas all generally to agree, though in discourse with oneanother they perhaps confound one another with different names. Iimagine that men who abstract their thoughts, and do well examine theideas of their own minds, cannot much differ in thinking; however theymay perplex themselves with words, according to the way of speaking ofthe several schools or sects they have been bred up in: though amongstunthinking men, who examine not scrupulously and carefully their ownideas, and strip them not from the marks men use for them, but confoundthem with words, there must be endless dispute, wrangling, and jargon;especially if they be learned, bookish men, devoted to some sect, andaccustomed to the language of it, and have learned to talk after others. But if it should happen that any two thinking men should really havedifferent ideas, I do not see how they could discourse or argue onewith another. Here I must not be mistaken, to think that every floatingimagination in men's brains is presently of that sort of ideas I speakof. It is not easy for the mind to put off those confused notionsand prejudices it has imbibed from custom, inadvertency, and commonconversation. It requires pains and assiduity to examine its ideas, tillit resolves them into those clear and distinct simple ones, out of whichthey are compounded; and to see which, amongst its simple ones, have orhave not a NECESSARY connexion and dependence one upon another. Till aman doth this in the primary and original notions of things, he buildsupon floating and uncertain principles, and will often find himself at aloss. CHAPTER XIV. IDEA OF DURATION AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. 1. Duration is fleeting Extension. There is another sort of distance, or length, the idea whereof weget not from the permanent parts of space, but from the fleeting andperpetually perishing parts of succession. This we call DURATION; thesimple modes whereof are any different lengths of it whereof we havedistinct ideas, as HOURS, DAYS, YEARS, &c. , TIME and ETERNITY. 2. Its Idea from Reflection on the Train of our Ideas. The answer of a great man, to one who asked what time was: Si non rogasintelligo, (which amounts to this; The more I set myself to think of it, the less I understand it, ) might perhaps persuade one that time, whichreveals all other things, is itself not to be discovered. Duration, time, and eternity, are, not without reason, thought to have somethingvery abstruse in their nature. But however remote these may seem fromour comprehension, yet if we trace them right to their originals, Idoubt not but one of those sources of all our knowledge, viz. Sensationand reflection, will be able to furnish us with these ideas, as clearand distinct as many others which are thought much less obscure; and weshall find that the idea of eternity itself is derived from the samecommon original with the rest of our ideas. 3. Nature and origin of the idea of Duration. To understand TIME and ETERNITY aright, we ought with attention toconsider what idea it is we have of DURATION, and how we came by it. Itis evident to any one who will but observe what passes in his own mind, that there is a train of ideas which constantly succeed one anotherin his understanding, as long as he is awake. Reflection on theseappearances of several ideas one after another in our minds, is thatwhich furnishes us with the idea of SUCCESSION: and the distance betweenany parts of that succession, or between the appearance of any two ideasin our minds, is that we call DURATION. For whilst we are thinking, orwhilst we receive successively several ideas in our minds, we know thatwe do exist; and so we call the existence, or the continuation of theexistence of ourselves, or anything else, commensurate to the successionof any ideas in our minds, the duration of ourselves, or any such otherthing co-existent with our thinking. 4. Proof that its idea is got from reflection on the train of our ideas. That we have our notion of succession and duration from this original, viz. From reflection on the train of ideas, which we find to appear oneafter another in our own minds, seems plain to me, in that we have noperception of duration but by considering the train of ideas that taketheir turns in our understandings. When that succession of ideas ceases, our perception of duration ceases with it; which every one clearlyexperiments in himself, whilst he sleeps soundly, whether an hour or aday, a month or a year; of which duration of things, while he sleeps orthinks not, he has no perception at all, but it is quite lost to him;and the moment wherein he leaves off to think, till the moment he beginsto think again, seems to him to have no distance. And so I doubt not itwould be to a waking man, if it were possible for him to keep ONLY ONEidea in his mind, without variation and the succession of others. And wesee, that one who fixes his thoughts very intently on one thing, so asto take but little notice of the succession of ideas that pass in hismind whilst he is taken up with that earnest contemplation, lets slipout of his account a good part of that duration, and thinks that timeshorter than it is. But if sleep commonly unites the distant parts ofduration, it is because during that time we have no succession of ideasin our minds. For if a man, during his sleep, dreams, and variety ofideas make themselves perceptible in his mind one after another, he haththen, during such dreaming, a sense of duration, and of the length ofit. By which it is to me very clear, that men derive their ideas ofduration from their reflections on the train of the ideas they observeto succeed one another in their own understandings; without whichobservation they can have no notion of duration, whatever may happen inthe world. 5. The Idea of Duration applicable to Things whilst we sleep. Indeed a man having, from reflecting on the succession and number ofhis own thoughts, got the notion or idea of duration, he can apply thatnotion to things which exist while he does not think; as he that has gotthe idea of extension from bodies by his sight or touch, can apply it todistances, where no body is seen or felt. And therefore, though a manhas no perception of the length of duration which passed whilst he sleptor thought not; yet, having observed the revolution of days and nights, and found the length of their duration to be in appearance regularand constant, he can, upon the supposition that that revolution hasproceeded after the same manner whilst he was asleep or thought not, asit used to do at other times, he can, I say, imagine and make allowancefor the length of duration whilst he slept. But if Adam and Eve, (whenthey were alone in the world, ) instead of their ordinary night's sleep, had passed the whole twenty-four hours in one continued sleep, theduration of that twenty-four hours had been irrecoverably lost to them, and been for ever left out of their account of time. 6. The Idea of Succession not from Motion. Thus by reflecting on the appearing of various ideas one after anotherin our understandings, we get the notion of succession; which, if anyone should think we did rather get from our observation of motion byour senses, he will perhaps be of my mind when he considers, that evenmotion produces in his mind an idea of succession no otherwise than asit produces there a continued train of distinguishable ideas. For a manlooking upon a body really moving, perceives yet no motion at all unlessthat motion produces a constant train of successive ideas: v. G. A manbecalmed at sea, out of sight of land, in a fair day, may look on thesun, or sea, or ship, a whole hour together, and perceive no motion atall in either; though it be certain that two, and perhaps all of them, have moved during that time a great way. But as soon as he perceiveseither of them to have changed distance with some other body, as soon asthis motion produces any new idea in him, then he perceives that therehas been motion. But wherever a man is, with all things at rest abouthim, without perceiving any motion at all, --if during this hour of quiethe has been thinking, he will perceive the various ideas of his ownthoughts in his own mind, appearing one after another, and therebyobserve and find succession where he could observe no motion. 7. Very slow motions unperceived. And this, I think, is the reason why motions very slow, though they areconstant, are not perceived by us; because in their remove from onesensible part towards another, their change of distance is so slow, thatit causes no new ideas in us, but a good while one after another. Andso not causing a constant train of new ideas to follow one anotherimmediately in our minds, we have no perception of motion; whichconsisting in a constant succession, we cannot perceive that successionwithout a constant succession of varying ideas arising from it. 8. Very swift motions unperceived. On the contrary, things that move so swift as not to affect the sensesdistinctly with several distinguishable distances of their motion, andso cause not any train of ideas in the mind, are not also perceived. For anything that moves round about in a circle, in less times than ourideas are wont to succeed one another in our minds, is not perceived tomove; but seems to be a perfect entire circle of the matter or colour, and not a part of a circle in motion. 9. The Train of Ideas has a certain Degree of Quickness. Hence I leave it to others to judge, whether it be not probable thatour ideas do, whilst we are awake, succeed one another in our mindsat certain distances; not much unlike the images in the inside of alantern, turned round by the heat of a candle. This appearance of theirsin train, though perhaps it may be sometimes faster and sometimesslower, yet, I guess, varies not very much in a waking man: there seemto be certain bounds to the quickness and slowness of the succession ofthose ideas one to another in our minds, beyond which they can neitherdelay nor hasten. 10. Real succession in swift motions without sense of succession. The reason I have for this odd conjecture is, from observing that, inthe impressions made upon any of our senses, we can but to a certaindegree perceive any succession; which, if exceeding quick, the sense ofsuccession is lost, even in cases where it is evident that there is areal succession. Let a cannon-bullet pass through a room, and in its waytake with it any limb, or fleshy parts of a man, it is as clear as anydemonstration can be, that it must strike successively the two sides ofthe room: it is also evident, that it must touch one part of the fleshfirst, and another after, and so in succession: and yet, I believe, nobody who ever felt the pain of such a shot, or heard the blow againstthe two distant walls, could perceive any succession either in the painor sound of so swift a stroke. Such a part of duration as this, whereinwe perceive no succession, is that which we call an INSTANT, and isthat which takes up the time of only one idea in our minds, without thesuccession of another; wherein, therefore, we perceive no succession atall. 11. In slow motions. This also happens where the motion is so slow as not to supply aconstant train of fresh ideas to the senses, as fast as the mind iscapable of receiving new ones into it; and so other ideas of our ownthoughts, having room to come into our minds between those offered toour senses by the moving body, there the sense of motion is lost; andthe body, though it really moves, yet, not changing perceivable distancewith some other bodies as fast as the ideas of our own minds donaturally follow one another in train, the thing seems to stand still;as is evident in the hands of clocks, and shadows of sun-dials, andother constant but slow motions, where, though, after certain intervals, we perceive, by the change of distance, that it hath moved, yet themotion itself we perceive not. 12. This Train, the Measure of other Successions. So that to me it seems, that the constant and regular succession ofIDEAS in a waking man, is, as it were, the measure and standard of allother successions. Whereof if any one either exceeds the pace of ourideas, as where two sounds or pains, &c. , take up in their successionthe duration of but one idea; or else where any motion or succession isso slow, as that it keeps not pace with the ideas in our minds, or thequickness in which they take their turns, as when any one or more ideasin their ordinary course come into our mind, between those which areoffered to the sight by the different perceptible distances of a body inmotion, or between sounds or smells following one another, --there alsothe sense of a constant continued succession is lost, and we perceive itnot, but with certain gaps of rest between. 13. The Mind cannot fix long on one invariable Idea. If it be so, that the ideas of our minds, whilst we have any there, do constantly change and shift in a continual succession, it would beimpossible, may any one say, for a man to think long of any one thing. By which, if it be meant that a man may have one self-same single idea along time alone in his mind, without any variation at all, I think, inmatter of fact, it is not possible. For which (not knowing how the ideasof our minds are framed, of what materials they are made, whence theyhave their light, and how they come to make their appearances) I cangive no other reason but experience: and I would have any one try, whether he can keep one unvaried single idea in his mind, without anyother, for any considerable time together. 14. Proof. For trial, let him take any figure, any degree of light or whiteness, orwhat other he pleases, and he will, I suppose, find it difficult to keepall other ideas out of his mind; but that some, either of another kind, or various considerations of that idea, (each of which considerations isa new idea, ) will constantly succeed one another in his thoughts, lethim be as wary as he can. 15. The extent of our power over the succession of our ideas. All that is in a man's power in this case, I think, is only to mind andobserve what the ideas are that take their turns in his understanding;or else to direct the sort, and call in such as he hath a desire or useof: but hinder the constant succession of fresh ones, I think he cannot, though he may commonly choose whether he will heedfully observe andconsider them. 16. Ideas, however made, include no sense of motion. Whether these several ideas in a man's mind be made by certain motions, I will not here dispute; but this I am sure, that they include no ideaof motion in their appearance; and if a man had not the idea of motionotherwise, I think he would have none at all, which is enough to mypresent purpose; and sufficiently shows that the notice we take of theideas of our own minds, appearing there one after another, is that whichgives us the idea of succession and duration, without which we shouldhave no such ideas at all. It is not then MOTION, but the constant trainof IDEAS in our minds whilst we are waking, that furnishes us with theidea of duration; whereof motion no otherwise gives us any perceptionthan as it causes in our minds a constant succession of ideas, as I havebefore showed: and we have as clear an idea of succession and duration, by the train of other ideas succeeding one another in our minds, without the idea of any motion, as by the train of ideas caused by theuninterrupted sensible change of distance between two bodies, whichwe have from motion; and therefore we should as well have the idea ofduration were there no sense of motion at all. 17. Time is Duration set out by Measures. Having thus got the idea of duration, the next thing natural for themind to do, is to get some measure of this common duration, whereby itmight judge of its different lengths, and consider the distinct orderwherein several things exist; without which a great part of ourknowledge would be confused, and a great part of history be renderedvery useless. This consideration of duration, as set out by certainperiods and marked by certain measures or epochs, is that, I think, which most properly we call TIME. 18. A good Measure of Time must divide its whole Duration into equalPeriods. In the measuring of extension, there is nothing more required but theapplication of the standard or measure we make use of to the thing ofwhose extension we would be informed. But in the measuring of durationthis cannot be done, because no two different parts of succession canbe put together to measure one another. And nothing being a measure ofduration but duration, as nothing is of extension but extension, wecannot keep by us any standing, unvarying measure of duration, whichconsists in a constant fleeting succession, as we can of certain lengthsof extension, as inches, feet, yards, &c. , marked out in permanentparcels of matter. Nothing then could serve well for a convenientmeasure of time, but what has divided the whole length of its durationinto apparently equal portions, by constantly repeated periods. What portions of duration are not distinguished, or considered asdistinguished and measured, by such periods, come not so properly underthe notion of time; as appears by such phrases as these, viz. 'Beforeall time, ' and 'When time shall be no more. ' 19. The Revolutions of the Sun and Moon, the properest Measures of Timefor mankind. The diurnal and annual revolutions of the sun, as having been, from thebeginning of nature, constant, regular, and universally observable byall mankind, and supposed equal to one another, have been with reasonmade use of for the measure of duration. But the distinction of daysand years having depended on the motion of the sun, it has brought thismistake with it, that it has been thought that motion and duration werethe measure one of another. For men, in the measuring of the lengthof time, having been accustomed to the ideas of minutes, hours, days, months, years, &c. , which they found themselves upon any mention oftime or duration presently to think on, all which portions of time weremeasured out by the motion of those heavenly bodies, they were apt toconfound time and motion; or at least to think that they had a necessaryconnexion one with another. Whereas any constant periodical appearance, or alteration of ideas, in seemingly equidistant spaces of duration, ifconstant and universally observable, would have as well distinguishedthe intervals of time, as those that have been made use of. For, supposing the sun, which some have taken to be a fire, had been lightedup at the same distance of time that it now every day comes about to thesame meridian, and then gone out again about twelve hours after, andthat in the space of an annual revolution it had sensibly increased inbrightness and heat, and so decreased again, --would not such regularappearances serve to measure out the distances of duration to all thatcould observe it, as well without as with motion? For if the appearanceswere constant, universally observable, in equidistant periods, theywould serve mankind for measure of time as well were the motion away. 20. But not by their Motion, but periodical Appearances. For the freezing of water, or the blowing of a plant, returning atequidistant periods in all parts of the earth, would as well serve mento reckon their years by, as the motions of the sun: and in effect wesee, that some people in America counted their years by the coming ofcertain birds amongst them at their certain seasons, and leaving them atothers. For a fit of an ague; the sense of hunger or thirst; a smell ora taste; or any other idea returning constantly at equidistant periods, and making itself universally be taken notice of, would not fail tomeasure out the course of succession, and distinguish the distances oftime. Thus we see that men born blind count time well enough by years, whose revolutions yet they cannot distinguish by motions that theyperceive not. And I ask whether a blind man, who distinguished his yearseither by the heat of summer, or cold of winter; by the smell of anyflower of the spring, or taste of any fruit of the autumn, would nothave a better measure of time than the Romans had before the reformationof their calendar by Julius Caesar, or many other people, whose years, notwithstanding the motion of the sun, which they pretended to make useof, are very irregular? And it adds no small difficulty to chronology, that the exact lengths of the years that several nations counted by, arehard to be known, they differing very much one from another, and I thinkI may say all of them from the precise motion of the sun. And if the sunmoved from the creation to the flood constantly in the equator, and soequally dispersed its light and heat to all the habitable parts of theearth, in days all of the same length without its annual variations tothe tropics, as a late ingenious author supposes, I do not think it veryeasy to imagine, that (notwithstanding the motion of the sun) men shouldin the antediluvian world, from the beginning, count by years, ormeasure their time by periods that had no sensible mark very obvious todistinguish them by. 21. No two Parts of Duration can be certainly known to be equal. But perhaps it will be said, --without a regular motion, such as of thesun, or some other, how could it ever be known that such periodswere equal? To which I answer, --the equality of any other returningappearances might be known by the same way that that of days was known, or presumed to be so at first; which was only by judging of them by thetrain of ideas which had passed in men's minds in the intervals; bywhich train of ideas discovering inequality in the natural days, butnone in the artificial days, the artificial days, or nuchthaemera, wereguessed to be equal, which was sufficient to make them serve for ameasure; though exacter search has since discovered inequality in thediurnal revolutions of the sun, and we know not whether the annual alsobe not unequal. These yet, by their presumed and apparent equality, serve as well to reckon time by (though not to measure the parts ofduration exactly) as if they could be proved to be exactly equal. Wemust, therefore, carefully distinguish betwixt duration itself, and themeasures we make use of to judge of its length. Duration, in itself, isto be considered as going on in one constant, equal, uniform course: butnone of the measures of it which we make use of can be KNOWN to do so, nor can we be assured that their assigned parts or periods are equal induration one to another; for two successive lengths of duration, howevermeasured, can never be demonstrated to be equal. The motion of the sun, which the world used so long and so confidently for an exact measure ofduration, has, as I said, been found in its several parts unequal. Andthough men have, of late, made use of a pendulum, as a more steady andregular motion than that of the sun, or, (to speak more truly, ) of theearth;--yet if any one should be asked how he certainly knows that thetwo successive swings of a pendulum are equal, it would be very hard tosatisfy him that they are infallibly so; since we cannot be sure thatthe cause of that motion, which is unknown to us, shall always operateequally; and we are sure that the medium in which the pendulum moves isnot constantly the same: either of which varying, may alter the equalityof such periods, and thereby destroy the certainty and exactness of themeasure by motion, as well as any other periods of other appearances;the notion of duration still remaining clear, though our measures ofit cannot (any of them) be demonstrated to be exact. Since then no twoportions of succession can be brought together, it is impossible evercertainly to know their equality. All that we can do for a measureof time is, to take such as have continual successive appearances atseemingly equidistant periods; of which seeming equality we have noother measure, but such as the train of our own ideas have lodged in ourmemories, with the concurrence of other PROBABLE reasons, to persuade usof their equality. 22. Time not the Measure of Motion One thing seems strange to me, --that whilst all men manifestly measuredtime by the motion of the great and visible bodies of the world, timeyet should be defined to be the 'measure of motion': whereas it isobvious to every one who reflects ever so little on it, that to measuremotion, space is as necessary to be considered as time; and thosewho look a little farther will find also the bulk of the thing movednecessary to be taken into the computation, by any one who will estimateor measure motion so as to judge right of it. Nor indeed does motion anyotherwise conduce to the measuring of duration, than as it constantlybrings about the return of certain sensible ideas, in seemingequidistant periods. For if the motion of the sun were as unequal asof a ship driven by unsteady winds, sometimes very slow, and at othersirregularly very swift; or if, being constantly equally swift, it yetwas not circular, and produced not the same appearances, --it would notat all help us to measure time, any more than the seeming unequal motionof a comet does. 23. Minutes, hours, days, and years are, then, no more Minutes, Hours, Days, and Years not necessary Measures of Duration. Necessary to time orduration, than inches, feet, yards, and miles, marked out in any matter, are to extension. For, though we in this part of the universe, by theconstant use of them, as of periods set out by the revolutions of thesun, or as known parts of such periods, have fixed the ideas of suchlengths of duration in our minds, which we apply to all parts of timewhose lengths we would consider; yet there may be other parts of theuniverse, where they no more use these measures of ours, than in Japanthey do our inches, feet, or miles; but yet something analogous to themthere must be. For without some regular periodical returns, we could notmeasure ourselves, or signify to others, the length of any duration;though at the same time the world were as full of motion as it is now, but no part of it disposed into regular and apparently equidistantrevolutions. But the different measures that may be made use of for theaccount of time, do not at all alter the notion of duration, which isthe thing to be measured; no more than the different standards of a footand a cubit alter the notion of extension to those who make use of thosedifferent measures. 24. Our Measure of Time applicable to Duration before Time. The mind having once got such a measure of time as the annual revolutionof the sun, can apply that measure to duration wherein that measureitself did not exist, and with which, in the reality of its being, ithad nothing to do. For should one say, that Abraham was born in the twothousand seven hundred and twelfth year of the Julian period, it isaltogether as intelligible as reckoning from the beginning of the world, though there were so far back no motion of the sun, nor any motion atall. For, though the Julian period be supposed to begin several hundredyears before there were really either days, nights, or years, markedout by any revolutions of the sun, --yet we reckon as right, and therebymeasure durations as well, as if really at that time the sun hadexisted, and kept the same ordinary motion it doth now. The ideaof duration equal to an annual revolution of the sun, is as easilyAPPLICABLE in our thoughts to duration, where no sun or motion was, asthe idea of a foot or yard, taken from bodies here, can be applied inour thoughts to duration, where no sun or motion was, as the idea of afoot or yard, taken from bodies here, can be applied in our thoughts todistances beyond the confines of the world, where are no bodies at all. 25. As we can measure space in our thoughts where there is no body. For supposing it were 5639 miles, or millions of miles, from this placeto the remotest body of the universe, (for, being finite, it must be ata certain distance, ) as we suppose it to be 5639 years from this time tothe first existence of any body in the beginning of the world;--we can, in our thoughts, apply this measure of a year to duration before thecreation, or beyond the duration of bodies or motion, as we can thismeasure of a mile to space beyond the utmost bodies; and by the onemeasure duration, where there was no motion, as well as by the othermeasure space in our thoughts, where there is no body. 26. The assumption that the world is neither boundless nor eternal. If it be objected to me here, that, in this way of explaining of time, I have begged what I should not, viz. That the world is neither eternalnor infinite; I answer, That to my present purpose it is not needful, inthis place, to make use of arguments to evince the world to be finiteboth in duration and extension. But it being at least as conceivable asthe contrary, I have certainly the liberty to suppose it, as well as anyone hath to suppose the contrary; and I doubt not, but that every onethat will go about it, may easily conceive in his mind the beginning ofmotion, though not of all duration, and so may come to a step and nonultra in his consideration of motion. So also, in his thoughts, he mayset limits to body, and the extension belonging to it; but not to space, where no body is, the utmost bounds of space and duration being beyondthe reach of thought, as well as the utmost bounds of number are beyondthe largest comprehension of the mind; and all for the same reason, aswe shall see in another place. 27. Eternity. By the same means, therefore, and from the same original that we come tohave the idea of time, we have also that idea which we call Eternity;viz. Having got the idea of succession and duration, by reflectingon the train of our own ideas, caused in us either by the naturalappearances of those ideas coming constantly of themselves into ourwaking thoughts, or else caused by external objects successivelyaffecting our senses; and having from the revolutions of the sun got theideas of certain lengths of duration, --we can in our thoughts add suchlengths of duration to one another, as often as we please, and applythem, so added, to durations past or to come. And this we can continueto do on, without bounds or limits, and proceed in infinitum, and applythus the length of the annual motion of the sun to duration, supposedbefore the sun's or any other motion had its being, which is no moredifficult or absurd, than to apply the notion I have of the moving of ashadow one hour to-day upon the sun-dial to the duration of somethinglast night, v. G. The burning of a candle, which is now absolutelyseparate from all actual motion; and it is as impossible for theduration of that flame for an hour last night to co-exist with anymotion that now is, or for ever shall be, as for any part of duration, that was before the beginning of the world, to co exist with the motionof the sun now. But yet this hinders not but that, having the IDEA ofthe length of the motion of the shadow on a dial between the marks oftwo hours, I can as distinctly measure in my thoughts the duration ofthat candle-light last night, as I can the duration of anything thatdoes now exist: and it is no more than to think, that, had the sun shonethen on the dial, and moved after the same rate it doth now, the shadowon the dial would have passed from one hour-line to another whilst thatflame of the candle lasted. 28. Our measures of Duration dependent on our ideas. The notion of an hour, day, or year, being only the idea I have of thelength of certain periodical regular motions, neither of which motionsdo ever all at once exist, but only in the ideas I have of them in mymemory derived from my senses or reflection; I can with the same ease, and for the same reason, apply it in my thoughts to duration antecedentto all manner of motion, as well as to anything that is but a minute ora day antecedent to the motion that at this very moment the sun is in. All things past are equally and perfectly at rest; and to this wayof consideration of them are all one, whether they were before thebeginning of the world, or but yesterday: the measuring of any durationby some motion depending not at all on the REAL co-existence of thatthing to that motion, or any other periods of revolution, but the havinga clear IDEA of the length of some periodical known motion, or otherinterval of duration, in my mind, and applying that to the duration ofthe thing I would measure. 29. The Duration of anything need not be co-existent with the motion wemeasure it by. Hence we see that some men imagine the duration of of the world, fromits first existence to this present year 1689, to have been 5639 years, or equal to 5639 annual revolutions of the sun, and others a great dealmore; as the Egyptians of old, who in the time of Alexander counted23, 000 years from the reign of the sun; and the Chinese now, who accountthe world 3, 269, 000 years old, or more; which longer duration of theworld, according to their computation, though I should not believe to betrue, yet I can equally imagine it with them, and as truly understand, and say one is longer than the other, as I understand, that Methusalem'slife was longer than Enoch's. And if the common reckoning of 5639 shouldbe true, (as it may be as well as any other assigned, ) it hinders not atall my imagining what others mean, when they make the world one thousandyears older, since every one may with the same facility imagine (I donot say believe) the world to be 50, 000 years old, as 5639; and may aswell conceive the duration of 50, 000 years as 5639. Whereby it appearsthat, to the measuring the duration of anything by time, it is notrequisite that that thing should be co-existent to the motion we measureby, or any other periodical revolution; but it suffices to thispurpose, that we have the idea of the length of ANY regular periodicalappearances, which we can in our minds apply to duration, with which themotion or appearance never co-existed. 30. Infinity in Duration. For, as in the history of the creation delivered by Moses, I can imaginethat light existed three days before the sun was, or had any motion, barely by thinking that the duration of light before the sun was createdwas so long as (IF the sun had moved then as it doth now) would havebeen equal to three of his diurnal revolutions; so by the same way I canhave an idea of the chaos, or angels, being created before there waseither light or any continued motion, a minute, an hour, a day, a year, or one thousand years. For, if I can but consider duration equal to oneminute, before either the being or motion of any body, I can add oneminute more till I come to sixty; and by the same way of adding minutes, hours, or years (i. E. Such or such parts of the sun's revolutions, orany other period whereof I have the idea) proceed IN INFINITUM, andsuppose a duration exceeding as many such periods as I can reckon, letme add whilst I will, which I think is the notion we have of eternity;of whose infinity we have no other notion than we have of the infinityof number, to which we can add for ever without end. 31. Origin of our Ideas of Duration, and of the measures of it. And thus I think it is plain, that from those two fountains of allknowledge before mentioned, viz. Reflection and sensation, we got theideas of duration, and the measures of it. For, First, by observing what passes in our minds, how our ideas therein train constantly some vanish and others begin to appear, we come bythe idea of SUCCESSION. Secondly, by observing a distance in the partsof this succession, we get the idea of DURATION. Thirdly, by sensation observing certain appearances, at certain regularand seeming equidistant periods, we get the ideas of certain LENGTHS orMEASURES OF DURATION, as minutes, hours, days, years, &c. Fourthly, by being able to repeat those measures of time, or ideas ofstated length of duration, in our minds, as often as we will, we cancome to imagine DURATION, --WHERE NOTHING DOES REALLY ENDURE OR EXIST;and thus we imagine to-morrow, next year, or seven years hence. Fifthly, by being able to repeat ideas of any length of time, as of aminute, a year, or an age, as often as we will in our own thoughts, and adding them one to another, without ever coming to the end of suchaddition, any nearer than we can to the end of number, to which we canalways add; we come by the idea of ETERNITY, as the future eternalduration of our souls, as well as the eternity of that infinite Beingwhich must necessarily have always existed. Sixthly, by considering any part of infinite duration, as set outby periodical measures, we come by the idea of what we call TIME ingeneral. CHAPTER XV. IDEAS OF DURATION AND EXPANSION, CONSIDERED TOGETHER. 1. Both capable of greater and less. Though we have in the precedent chapters dwelt pretty long on theconsiderations of space and duration, yet, they being ideas of generalconcernment, that have something very abstruse and peculiar in theirnature, the comparing them one with another may perhaps be of usefor their illustration; and we may have the more clear and distinctconception of them by taking a view of them together. Distance or space, in its simple abstract conception, to avoid confusion, I call EXPANSION, to distinguish it from extension, which by some is used to express thisdistance only as it is in the solid parts of matter, and so includes, orat least intimates, the idea of body: whereas the idea of pure distanceincludes no such thing. I prefer also the word expansion to space, because space is often applied to distance of fleeting successive parts, which never exist together, as well as to those which are permanent. Inboth these (viz. Expansion and duration) the mind has this common ideaof continued lengths, capable of greater or less quantities. For a manhas as clear an idea of the difference of the length of an hour and aday, as of an inch and a foot. 2. Expansion not bounded by Matter. The mind, having got the idea of the length of any part of expansion, let it be a span, or a pace, or what length you will, CAN, as has beensaid, repeat that idea, and so, adding it to the former, enlarge itsidea of length, and make it equal to two spans, or two paces; and so, asoften as it will, till it equals the distance of any parts of the earthone from another, and increase thus till it amounts to the distance ofthe sun or remotest star. By such a progression as this, setting outfrom the place where it is, or any other place, it can proceed and passbeyond all those lengths, and find nothing to stop its going on, eitherin or without body. It is true, we can easily in our thoughts come tothe end of SOLID extension; the extremity and bounds of all body we haveno difficulty to arrive at: but when the mind is there, it finds nothingto hinder its progress into this endless expansion; of that it canneither find nor conceive any end. Nor let any one say, that beyond thebounds of body, there is nothing at all; unless he will confine Godwithin the limits of matter. Solomon, whose understanding was filledand enlarged with wisdom, seems to have other thoughts when he says, 'Heaven, and the heaven of heavens, cannot contain thee. ' And he, I think, very much magnifies to himself the capacity of his ownunderstanding, who persuades himself that he can extend his thoughtsfurther than God exists, or imagine any expansion where He is not. 3. Nor Duration by Motion. Just so is it in duration. The mind having got the idea of any length ofduration, CAN double, multiply, and enlarge it, not only beyond its own, but beyond the existence of all corporeal beings, and all the measuresof time, taken from the great bodies of all the world and theirmotions. But yet every one easily admits, that, though we make durationboundless, as certainly it is, we cannot yet extend it beyond all being. God, every one easily allows, fills eternity; and it is hard to find areason why any one should doubt that he likewise fills immensity. His infinite being is certainly as boundless one way as another; andmethinks it ascribes a little too much to matter to say, where there isno body, there is nothing. 4. Why Men more easily admit infinite Duration than infinite Expansion. Hence I think we may learn the reason why every one familiarly andwithout the least hesitation speaks of and supposes Eternity, and sticksnot to ascribe INFINITY to DURATION; but it is with more doubting andreserve that many admit or suppose the INFINITY OF SPACE. The reasonwhereof seems to me to be this, --That duration and extension being usedas names of affections belonging to other beings, we easily conceivein God infinite duration, and we cannot avoid doing so: but, notattributing to him extension, but only to matter, which is finite, weare apter to doubt of the existence of expansion without matter; ofwhich alone we commonly suppose it an attribute. And, therefore, whenmen pursue their thoughts of space, they are apt to stop at the confinesof body: as if space were there at an end too, and reached no further. Or if their ideas, upon consideration, carry them further, yet they termwhat is beyond the limits of the universe, imaginary space: as if ITwere nothing, because there is no body existing in it. Whereas duration, antecedent to all body, and to the motions which it is measured by, theynever term imaginary: because it is never supposed void of some otherreal existence. And if the names of things may at all direct ourthoughts towards the original of men's ideas, (as I am apt to think theymay very much, ) one may have occasion to think by the name DURATION, that the continuation of existence, with a kind of resistance to anydestructive force, and the continuation of solidity (which is apt to beconfounded with, and if we will look into the minute anatomical parts ofmatter, is little different from, hardness) were thought to have someanalogy, and gave occasion to words so near of kin as durare and durumesse. And that durare is applied to the idea of hardness, as well asthat of existence, we see in Horace, Epod. Xvi. Ferro duravit secula. But, be that as it will, this is certain, that whoever pursues his ownthoughts, will find them sometimes launch out beyond the extent of body, into the infinity of space or expansion; the idea whereof is distinctand separate from body and all other things: which may, (to those whoplease, ) be a subject of further meditation. 5. Time to Duration is as Place to Expansion. Time in general is to duration as place to expansion. They are so muchof those boundless oceans of eternity and immensity as is set out anddistinguished from the rest, as it were by landmarks; and so are madeuse of to denote the position of FINITE real beings, in respect one toanother, in those uniform infinite oceans of duration and space. These, rightly considered, are only ideas of determinate distances from certainknown points, fixed in distinguishable sensible things, and supposedto keep the same distance one from another. From such points fixed insensible beings we reckon, and from them we measure our portions ofthose infinite quantities; which, so considered, are that which we callTIME and PLACE. For duration and space being in themselves uniform andboundless, the order and position of things, without such known settledpoints, would be lost in them; and all things would lie jumbled in anincurable confusion. 6. Time and Place are taken for so much of either as are set out by theExistence and Motion of Bodies. Time and place, taken thus for determinate distinguishable portions ofthose infinite abysses of space and duration, set out or supposed to bedistinguished from the rest, by marks and known boundaries, have each ofthem a twofold acceptation. FIRST, Time in general is commonly taken for so much of infiniteduration as is measured by, and co-existent with, the existence andmotions of the great bodies of the universe, as far as we know anythingof them: and in this sense time begins and ends with the frame of thissensible world, as in these phrases before mentioned, 'Before all time, 'or, 'When time shall be no more. ' Place likewise is taken sometimes forthat portion of infinite space which is possessed by and comprehendedwithin the material world; and is thereby distinguished from the rest ofexpansion; though this may be more properly called extension than place. Within these two are confined, and by the observable parts of themare measured and determined, the particular time or duration, and theparticular extension and place, of all corporeal beings. 7. Sometimes for so much of either as we design by Measures taken fromthe Bulk or Motion of Bodies. SECONDLY, sometimes the word time is used in a larger sense, and isapplied to parts of that infinite duration, not that were reallydistinguished and measured out by this real existence, and periodicalmotions of bodies, that were appointed from the beginning to be forsigns and for seasons and for days and years, and are accordingly ourmeasures of time; but such other portions too of that infinite uniformduration, which we upon any occasion do suppose equal to certain lengthsof measured time; and so consider them as bounded and determined. For, if we should suppose the creation, or fall of the angels, was at thebeginning of the Julian period, we should speak properly enough, andshould be understood if we said, it is a longer time since the creationof angels than the creation of the world, by 7640 years: whereby wewould mark out so much of that undistinguished duration as we supposeequal to, and would have admitted, 7640 annual revolutions of the sun, moving at the rate it now does. And thus likewise we sometimes speak ofplace, distance, or bulk, in the great INANE, beyond the confines of theworld, when we consider so much of that space as is equal to, or capableto receive, a body of any assigned dimensions, as a cubic foot; or dosuppose a point in it, at such a certain distance from any part of theuniverse. 8. They belong to all finite beings. WHERE and WHEN are questions belonging to all finite existences, and areby us always reckoned from some known parts of this sensible world, andfrom some certain epochs marked out to us by the motions observable init. Without some such fixed parts or periods, the order of things wouldbe lost, to our finite understandings, in the boundless invariableoceans of duration and expansion, which comprehend in them all finitebeings, and in their full extent belong only to the Deity. And thereforewe are not to wonder that we comprehend them not, and do so often findour thoughts at a loss, when we would consider them, either abstractlyin themselves, or as any way attributed to the first incomprehensibleBeing. But when applied to any particular finite beings, the extensionof any body is so much of that infinite space as the bulk of the bodytakes up. And place is the position of any body, when considered at acertain distance from some other. As the idea of the particular durationof anything is, an idea of that portion of infinite duration whichpasses during the existence of that thing; so the time when the thingexisted is, the idea of that space of duration which passed between someknown and fixed period of duration, and the being of that thing. Oneshows the distance of the extremities of the bulk or existence of thesame thing, as that it is a foot square, or lasted two years; the othershows the distance of it in place, or existence from other fixed pointsof space or duration, as that it was in the middle of Lincoln's InnFields, or the first degree of Taurus, and in the year of our Lord 1671, or the 1000th year of the Julian period. All which distances we measureby preconceived ideas of certain lengths of space and duration, --asinches, feet, miles, and degrees, and in the other, minutes, days, andyears, &c. 9. All the Parts of Extension are Extension, and all the Parts ofDuration are Duration. There is one thing more wherein space and duration have a greatconformity, and that is, though they are justly reckoned amongst ourSIMPLE IDEAS, yet none of the distinct ideas we have of either iswithout all manner of composition: it is the very nature of both of themto consist of parts: but their parts being all of the same kind, andwithout the mixture of any other idea, hinder them not from having aplace amongst simple ideas. Could the mind, as in number, come to sosmall a part of extension or duration as excluded divisibility, THATwould be, as it were, the indivisible unit or idea; by repetition ofwhich, it would make its more enlarged ideas of extension and duration. But, since the mind is not able to frame an idea of ANY space withoutparts, instead thereof it makes use of the common measures, which, byfamiliar use in each country, have imprinted themselves on the memory(as inches and feet; or cubits and parasangs; and so seconds, minutes, hours, days, and years in duration);--the mind makes use, I say, ofsuch ideas as these, as simple ones: and these are the component partsof larger ideas, which the mind upon occasion makes by the addition ofsuch known lengths which it is acquainted with. On the other side, theordinary smallest measure we have of either is looked on as an unit innumber, when the mind by division would reduce them into less fractions. Though on both sides, both in addition and division, either of space orduration, when the idea under consideration becomes very big or verysmall, its precise bulk becomes very obscure and confused; and it is theNUMBER of its repeated additions or divisions that alone remains clearand distinct; as will easily appear to any one who will let his thoughtsloose in the vast expansion of space, or divisibility of matter. Everypart of duration is duration too; and every part of extension isextension, both of them capable of addition or division in infinitum. But THE LEAST PORTIONS OF EITHER OF THEM, WHEREOF WE HAVE CLEAR ANDDISTINCT IDEAS, may perhaps be fittest to be considered by us, as thesimple ideas of that kind out of which our complex modes of space, extension, and duration are made up, and into which they can again bedistinctly resolved. Such a small part in duration may be called aMOMENT, and is the time of one idea in our minds, in the train of theirordinary succession there. The other, wanting a proper name, I know notwhether I may be allowed to call a SENSIBLE POINT, meaning thereby theleast particle of matter or space we can discern, which is ordinarilyabout a minute, and to the sharpest eyes seldom less than thirty secondsof a circle, whereof the eye is the centre. 10. Their Parts inseparable. Expansion and duration have this further agreement, that, though theyare both considered by us as having parts, yet their parts are notseparable one from another, no not even in thought: though the partsof bodies from whence we take our MEASURE of the one; and the parts ofmotion, or rather the succession of ideas in our minds, from whence wetake the MEASURE of the other, may be interrupted and separated; as theone is often by rest, and the other is by sleep, which we call rest too. 11. Duration is as a Line, Expansion as a Solid. But there is this manifest difference between them, --That the ideasof length which we have of expansion are turned every way, and so makefigure, and breadth, and thickness; but duration is but as it were thelength of one straight line, extended in infinitum, not capable ofmultiplicity, variation, or figure; but is one common measure of allexistence whatsoever, wherein all things, whilst they exist, equallypartake. For this present moment is common to all things that are now inbeing, and equally comprehends that part of their existence, as much asif they were all but one single being; and we may truly say, they allexist in the SAME moment of time. Whether angels and spirits have anyanalogy to this, in respect to expansion, is beyond my comprehension:and perhaps for us, who have understandings and comprehensions suitedto our own preservation, and the ends of our own being, but not to thereality and extent of all other beings, it is near as hard to conceiveany existence, or to have an idea of any real being, with a perfectnegation of all manner of expansion, as it is to have the idea of anyreal existence with a perfect negation of all manner of duration. Andtherefore, what spirits have to do with space, or how they communicatein it, we know not. All that we know is, that bodies do each singlypossess its proper portion of it, according to the extent of solidparts; and thereby exclude all other bodies from having any share inthat particular portion of space, whilst it remains there. 12. Duration has never two Parts together, Expansion altogether. DURATION, and TIME which is a part of it, is the idea we have ofPERISHING distance, of which no two parts exist together, but followeach other in succession; an EXPANSION is the idea of LASTING distance, all whose parts exist together and are not capable of succession. Andtherefore, though we cannot conceive any duration without succession, nor can put it together in our thoughts that any being does NOW existto-morrow, or possess at once more than the present moment of duration;yet we can conceive the eternal duration of the Almighty far differentfrom that of man, or any other finite being. Because man comprehends notin his knowledge or power all past and future things: his thoughts arebut of yesterday, and he knows not what to-morrow will bring forth. Whatis once past he can never recal; and what is yet to come he cannot makepresent. What I say of man, I say of all finite beings; who, though theymay far exceed man in knowledge and power, yet are no more than themeanest creature, in comparison with God himself. Finite or anymagnitude holds not any proportion to infinite. God's infinite duration, being accompanied with infinite knowledge and infinite power, he seesall things, past and to come; and they are no more distant from hisknowledge, no further removed from his sight, than the present: they alllie under the same view: and there is nothing which he cannot make existeach moment he pleases. For the existence of all things, depending uponhis good pleasure, all things exist every moment that he thinks fit tohave them exist. To conclude: expansion and duration do mutually embraceand comprehend each other; every part of space being in every part ofduration, and every part of duration in every part of expansion. Such acombination of two distinct ideas is, I suppose, scarce to be found inall that great variety we do or can conceive, and may afford matter tofurther speculation. CHAPTER XVI. IDEA OF NUMBER. 1. Number the simplest and most universal Idea. Amongst all the ideas we have, as there is none suggested to the mind bymore ways, so there is none more simple, than that of UNITY, or one: ithas no shadow of variety or composition in it: every object our sensesare employed about; every idea in our understandings; every thought ofour minds, brings this idea along with it. And therefore it is the mostintimate to our thoughts, as well as it is, in its agreement to allother things, the most universal idea we have. For number applies itselfto men, angels, actions, thoughts; everything that either doth exist orcan be imagined. 2. Its Modes made by Addition. By repeating this idea in our minds, and adding the repetitionstogether, we come by the COMPLEX ideas of the MODES of it. Thus, byadding one to one, we have the complex idea of a couple; by puttingtwelve units together we have the complex idea of a dozen; and so of ascore or a million, or any other number. 3. Each Mode distinct. The SIMPLE MODES of NUMBER are of all other the most distinct; every theleast variation, which is an unit, making each combination as clearlydifferent from that which approacheth nearest to it, as the most remote;two being as distinct from one, as two hundred; and the idea of two asdistinct from the idea of three, as the magnitude of the whole earth isfrom that of a mite. This is not so in other simple modes, in which itis not so easy, nor perhaps possible for us to distinguish betwixttwo approaching ideas, which yet are really different. For who willundertake to find a difference between the white of this paper and thatof the next degree to it: or can form distinct ideas of every the leastexcess in extension? 4. Therefore Demonstrations in Numbers the most precise. The clearness and distinctness of each mode of number from allothers, even those that approach nearest, makes me apt to think thatdemonstrations in numbers, if they are not more evident and exactthan in extension, yet they are more general in their use, and moredeterminate in their application. Because the ideas of numbers are moreprecise and distinguishable than in extension; where every equality andexcess are not so easy to be observed or measured; because our thoughtscannot in space arrive at any determined smallness beyond which itcannot go, as an unit; and therefore the quantity or proportion of anythe least excess cannot be discovered; which is clear otherwise innumber, where, as has been said, 91 is as distinguishable from 90 asfrom 9000, though 91 be the next immediate excess to 90. But it is notso in extension, where, whatsoever is more than just a foot or an inch, is not distinguishable from the standard of a foot or an inch; and inlines which appear of an equal length, one may be longer than the otherby innumerable parts: nor can any one assign an angle, which shall bethe next biggest to a right one. 5. Names necessary to Numbers. By the repeating, as has been said, the idea of an unit, and joining itto another unit, we make thereof one collective idea, marked by the nametwo. And whosoever can do this, and proceed on, still adding one more tothe last collective idea which he had of any number, and gave a nameto it, may count, or have ideas, for several collections of units, distinguished one from another, as far as he hath a series of namesfor following numbers, and a memory to retain that series, with theirseveral names: all numeration being but still the adding of one unitmore, and giving to the whole together, as comprehended in one idea, anew or distinct name or sign, whereby to know it from those before andafter, and distinguish it from every smaller or greater multitude ofunits. So that he that can add one to one, and so to two, and so go onwith his tale, taking still with him the distinct names belonging toevery progression; and so again, by subtracting an unit from eachcollection, retreat and lessen them, is capable of all the ideas ofnumbers within the compass of his language, or for which he hath names, though not perhaps of more. For, the several simple modes of numbersbeing in our minds but so many combinations of units, which have novariety, nor are capable of any other difference but more or less, namesor marks for each distinct combination seem more necessary than in anyother sort of ideas. For, without such names or marks, we can hardlywell make use of numbers in reckoning, especially where the combinationis made up of any great multitude of units; which put together, withouta name or mark to distinguish that precise collection, will hardly bekept from being a heap in confusion. 6. Another reason for the necessity of names to numbers. This I think to be the reason why some Americans I have spoken with, (who were otherwise of quick and rational parts enough, ) could not, aswe do, by any means count to 1000; nor had any distinct idea of thatnumber, though they could reckon very well to 20. Because their languagebeing scanty, and accommodated only to the few necessaries of a needy, simple life, unacquainted either with trade or mathematics, had no wordsin it to stand for 1000; so that when they were discoursed with of thosegreater numbers, they would show the hairs of their head, to expressa great multitude, which they could not number; which inability, Isuppose, proceeded from their want of names. The Tououpinambos had nonames for numbers above 5; any number beyond that they made out byshowing their fingers, and the fingers of others who were present. And Idoubt not but we ourselves might distinctly number in words a great dealfurther than we usually do, would we find out but some fit denominationsto signify them by; whereas, in the way we take now to name them, bymillions of millions of millions, &c. , it is hard to go beyond eighteen, or at most, four and twenty, decimal progressions, without confusion. But to show how much distinct names conduce to our well reckoning, orhaving useful ideas of numbers, let us see all these following figuresin one continued line, as the marks of one number: v. G. Nonillions. 857324 Octillions. 162486 Septillions. 345896 Sextillions. 437918 Quintrillions. 423147 Quartrillions. 248106 Trillions. 235421 Billions. 261734 Millions. 368149 Units. 623137 The ordinary way of naming this number in English, will be the oftenrepeating of millions, of millions, of millions, of millions, ofmillions, of millions, of millions, of millions, (which is thedenomination of the second six figures). In which way, it will be veryhard to have any distinguishing notions of this number. But whether, by giving every six figures a new and orderly denomination, these, andperhaps a great many more figures in progression, might not easily becounted distinctly, and ideas of them both got more easily to ourselves, and more plainly signified to others, I leave it to be considered. ThisI mention only to show how necessary distinct names are to numbering, without pretending to introduce new ones of my invention. 7. Why Children number not earlier. Thus children, either for want of names to mark the several progressionsof numbers, or not having yet the faculty to collect scattered ideasinto complex ones, and range them in a regular order, and so retain themin their memories, as is necessary to reckoning, do not begin to numbervery early, nor proceed in it very far or steadily, till a good whileafter they are well furnished with good store of other ideas: and onemay often observe them discourse and reason pretty well, and have veryclear conceptions of several other things, before they can tell twenty. And some, through the default of their memories, who cannot retain theseveral combinations of numbers, with their names, annexed in theirdistinct orders, and the dependence of so long a train of numeralprogressions, and their relation one to another, are not able all theirlifetime to reckon, or regularly go over any moderate series of numbers. For he that will count twenty, or have any idea of that number, mustknow that nineteen went before, with the distinct name or sign of everyone of them, as they stand marked in their order; for wherever thisfails, a gap is made, the chain breaks, and the progress in numberingcan go no further. So that to reckon right, it is required, (1) Thatthe mind distinguish carefully two ideas, which are different one fromanother only by the addition or subtraction of ONE unit: (2) That itretain in memory the names or marks of the several combinations, from anunit to that number; and that not confusedly, and at random, but in thatexact order that the numbers follow one another. In either of which, ifit trips, the whole business of numbering will be disturbed, and therewill remain only the confused idea of multitude, but the ideas necessaryto distinct numeration will not be attained to. 8. Number measures all Measurables. This further is observable in number, that it is that which the mindmakes use of in measuring all things that by us are measurable, whichprincipally are EXPANSION and DURATION; and our idea of infinity, evenwhen applied to those, seems to be nothing but the infinity of number. For what else are our ideas of Eternity and Immensity, but the repeatedadditions of certain ideas of imagined parts of duration and expansion, with the infinity of number; in which we can come to no end of addition?For such an inexhaustible stock, number (of all other our ideas) mostclearly furnishes us with, as is obvious to every one. For let a mancollect into one sum as great a number as he pleases, this multitude howgreat soever, lessens not one jot the power of adding to it, or bringshim any nearer the end of the inexhaustible stock of number; where stillthere remains as much to be added, as if none were taken out. And thisENDLESS ADDITION or ADDIBILITY (if any one like the word better) ofnumbers, so apparent to the mind, is that, I think, which gives usthe clearest and most distinct idea of infinity: of which more in thefollowing chapter. CHAPTER XVII. OF INFINITY. 1. Infinity, in its original Intention, attributed to Space, Duration, and Number. He that would know what kind of idea it is to which we give the name ofINFINITY, cannot do it better than by considering to what infinity isby the mind more immediately attributed; and then how the mind comes toframe it. FINITE and INFINITE seem to me to be looked upon by the mind as theMODES OF QUANTITY, and to be attributed primarily in their firstdesignation only to those things which have parts, and are capable ofincrease or diminution by the addition or subtraction of any the leastpart: and such are the ideas of space, duration, and number, which wehave considered in the foregoing chapters. It is true, that we cannotbut be assured, that the great God, of whom and from whom are allthings, is incomprehensibly infinite: but yet, when we apply to thatfirst and supreme Being our idea of infinite, in our weak and narrowthoughts, we do it primarily in respect to his duration and ubiquity;and, I think, more figuratively to his power, wisdom, and goodness, andother attributes which are properly inexhaustible and incomprehensible, &c. For, when we call THEM infinite, we have no other idea of thisinfinity but what carries with it some reflection on, and imitation of, that number or extent of the acts or objects of God's power, wisdom, andgoodness, which can never be supposed so great, or so many, which theseattributes will not always surmount and exceed, let us multiply them inour thoughts as far as we can, with all the infinity of endless number. I do not pretend to say how these attributes are in God, who isinfinitely beyond the reach of our narrow capacities: they do, withoutdoubt, contain in them all possible perfection: but this, I say, is ourway of conceiving them, and these our ideas of their infinity. 2. The Idea of Finite easily got. Finite then, and infinite, being by the mind looked on as MODIFICATIONSof expansion and duration, the next thing to be considered, is, --HOWTHE MIND COMES BY THEM. As for the idea of finite, there is no greatdifficulty. The obvious portions of extension that affect our senses, carry with them into the mind the idea of finite: and the ordinaryperiods of succession, whereby we measure time and duration, as hours, days, and years, are bounded lengths. The difficulty is, how we come bythose BOUNDLESS IDEAS of eternity and immensity; since the objects weconverse with come so much short of any approach or proportion to thatlargeness. 3. How we come by the Idea of Infinity. Every one that has any idea of any stated lengths of space, as a foot, finds that he can repeat that idea; and joining it to the former, makethe idea of two feet; and by the addition of a third, three feet; and soon, without ever coming to an end of his additions, whether of the sameidea of a foot, or, if he pleases, of doubling it, or any other idea hehas of any length, as a mile, or diameter of the earth, or of theorbis magnus: for whichever of these he takes, and how often soever hedoubles, or any otherwise multiplies it, he finds, that, after he hascontinued his doubling in his thoughts, and enlarged his idea as much ashe pleases, he has no more reason to stop, nor is one jot nearer theend of such addition, than he was at first setting out: the power ofenlarging his idea of space by further additions remaining still thesame, he hence takes the idea of infinite space. 4. Our Idea of Space boundless. This, I think, is the way whereby the mind gets the IDEA of infinitespace. It is a quite different consideration, to examine whether themind has the idea of such a boundless space ACTUALLY EXISTING; since ourideas are not always proofs of the existence of things: but yet, sincethis comes here in our way, I suppose I may say, that we are APT TOTHINK that space in itself is actually boundless, to which imaginationthe idea of space or expansion of itself naturally leads us. For, itbeing considered by us, either as the extension of body, or as existingby itself, without any solid matter taking it up, (for of such a voidspace we have not only the idea, but I have proved, as I think, fromthe motion of body, its necessary existence, ) it is impossible the mindshould be ever able to find or suppose any end of it, or be stoppedanywhere in its progress in this space, how far soever it extends itsthoughts. Any bounds made with body, even adamantine walls, are so farfrom putting a stop to the mind in its further progress in space andextension that it rather facilitates and enlarges it. For so far as thatbody reaches, so far no one can doubt of extension; and when we are cometo the utmost extremity of body, what is there that can there put astop, and satisfy the mind that it is at the end of space, when itperceives that it is not; nay, when it is satisfied that body itself canmove into it? For, if it be necessary for the motion of body, that thereshould be an empty space, though ever so little, here amongst bodies;and if it be possible for body to move in or through that emptyspace;--nay, it is impossible for any particle of matter to move butinto an empty space; the same possibility of a body's moving into a voidspace, beyond the utmost bounds of body, as well as into a void spaceinterspersed amongst bodies, will always remain clear and evident: theidea of empty pure space, whether within or beyond the confines of allbodies, being exactly the same, differing not in nature, though in bulk;and there being nothing to hinder body from moving into it. So thatwherever the mind places itself by any thought, either amongst, orremote from all bodies, it can, in this uniform idea of space, nowherefind any bounds, any end; and so must necessarily conclude it, by thevery nature and idea of each part of it, to be actually infinite. 5. And so of Duration. As, by the power we find in ourselves of repeating, as often as we will, any idea of space, we get the idea of IMMENSITY; so, by being able torepeat the idea of any length of duration we have in our minds, with allthe endless addition of number, we come by the idea of ETERNITY. For wefind in ourselves, we can no more come to an end of such repeated ideasthan we can come to the end of number; which every one perceives hecannot. But here again it is another question, quite different from ourhaving an IDEA of eternity, to know whether there were ANY REAL BEING, whose duration has been eternal. And as to this, I say, he thatconsiders something now existing, must necessarily come to Somethingeternal. But having spoke of this in another place, I shall say here nomore of it, but proceed on to some other considerations of our idea ofinfinity. 6. Why other Ideas are not capable of Infinity. If it be so, that our idea of infinity be got from the power we observein ourselves of repeating, without end, our own ideas, it may bedemanded, --Why we do not attribute infinity to other ideas, as well asthose of space and duration; since they may be as easily, and as often, repeated in our minds as the other: and yet nobody ever thinks ofinfinite sweetness or infinite whiteness, though he can repeat the ideaof sweet or white, as frequently as those of a yard or a day? To whichI answer, --All the ideas that are considered as having parts, and arecapable of increase by the addition of an equal or less parts, affordus, by their repetition, the idea of infinity; because, with thisendless repetition, there is continued an enlargement of which there CANbe no end. But for other ideas it is not so. For to the largest idea ofextension or duration that I at present have, the addition of any theleast part makes an increase; but to the perfectest idea I have of thewhitest whiteness, if I add another of a less equal whiteness, (and ofa whiter than I have, I cannot add the idea, ) it makes no increase, and enlarges not my idea at all; and therefore the different ideas ofwhiteness, &c. Are called degrees. For those ideas that consist of partare capable of being augmented by every addition of the least part;but if you take the idea of white, which one parcel of snow yieldedyesterday to our sight, and another idea of white from another parcel ofsnow you see to-day, and put them together in your mind, they embody, as it were, all run into one, and the idea of whiteness is not at allincreased and if we add a less degree of whiteness to a greater, we areso far from increasing, that we diminish it. Those ideas that consistnot of parts cannot be augmented to what proportion men please, or bestretched beyond what they have received by their senses; but space, duration, and number, being capable of increase by repetition, leave inthe mind an idea of endless room for more; nor can we conceive anywherea stop to a further addition or progression: and so those ideas ALONElead our minds towards the thought of infinity. 7. Difference between infinity of Space, and Space infinite. Though our idea of infinity arise from the contemplation of quantity, and the endless increase the mind is able to make in quantity, by therepeated additions of what portions thereof it pleases; yet I guess wecause great confusion in our thoughts, when we join infinity to anysupposed idea of quantity the mind can be thought to have, and sodiscourse or reason about an infinite quantity, as an infinite space, oran infinite duration. For, as our idea of infinity being, as I think, ANENDLESS GROWING IDEA, but the idea of any quantity the mind has, beingat that time TERMINATED in that idea, (for be it as great as it will, itcan be no greater than it is, )--to join infinity to it, is to adjust astanding measure to a growing bulk; and therefore I think it is not aninsignificant subtilty, if I say, that we are carefully to distinguishbetween the idea of the infinity of space, and the idea of a spaceinfinite. The first is nothing but a supposed endless progression of themind, over what repeated ideas of space it pleases; but to have actuallyin the mind the idea of a space infinite, is to suppose the mind alreadypassed over, and actually to have a view of ALL those repeated ideas ofspace which an ENDLESS repetition can never totally represent to it;which carries in it a plain contradiction. 8. We have no Idea of infinite Space. This, perhaps, will be a little plainer, if we consider it in numbers. The infinity of numbers, to the end of whose addition every oneperceives there is no approach, easily appears to any one that reflectson it. But, how clear soever this idea of the infinity of number be, there is nothing yet more evident than the absurdity of the actual ideaof an infinite number. Whatsoever POSITIVE ideas we have in our mindsof any space, duration, or number, let them be ever so great, they arestill finite; but when we suppose an inexhaustible remainder, fromwhich we remove all bounds, and wherein we allow the mind an endlessprogression of thought, without ever completing the idea, there we haveour idea of infinity: which, though it seems to be pretty clear when weconsider nothing else in it but the negation of an end, yet, when wewould frame in our minds the idea of an infinite space or duration, thatidea is very obscure and confused, because it is made up of two parts, very different, if not inconsistent. For, let a man frame in his mind anidea of any space or number, as great as he will; it is plain the mindRESTS AND TERMINATES in that idea, which is contrary to the ideaof infinity, which CONSISTS IN A SUPPOSED ENDLESS PROGRESSION. Andtherefore I think it is that we are so easily confounded, when we cometo argue and reason about infinite space or duration, &c. Becausethe parts of such an idea not being perceived to be, as they are, inconsistent, the one side or other always perplexes, whateverconsequences we draw from the other; as an idea of motion not passing onwould perplex any one who should argue from such an idea, which is notbetter than an idea of motion at rest. And such another seems to me tobe the idea of a space, or (which is the same thing) a number infinite, i. E. Of a space or number which the mind actually has, and so viewsand terminates in; and of a space or number, which, in a constant andendless enlarging and progression, it can in thought never attain to. For, how large soever an idea of space I have in my mind, it is nolarger than it is that instant that I have it, though I be capable thenext instant to double it, and so on in infinitum; for that alone isinfinite which has no bounds; and that the idea of infinity, in whichour thoughts can find none. 9. Number affords us the clearest Idea of Infinity. But of all other ideas, it is number, as I have said, which I thinkfurnishes us with the clearest and most distinct idea of infinity we arecapable of. For, even in space and duration, when the mind pursues theidea of infinity, it there makes use of the ideas and repetitions ofnumbers, as of millions and millions of miles, or years, which are somany distinct ideas, --kept best by number from running into a confusedheap, wherein the mind loses itself; and when it has added togetheras many millions, &c. , as it pleases, of known lengths of space orduration, the clearest idea it can get of infinity, is the confusedincomprehensible remainder of endless addible numbers, which affords noprospect of stop or boundary. 10. Our different Conceptions of the Infinity of Number contrasted withthose of Duration and Expansion. It will, perhaps, give us a little further light into the idea we haveof infinity, and discover to us, that it is NOTHING BUT THE INFINITY OFNUMBER APPLIED TO DETERMINATE PARTS, OF WHICH WE HAVE IN OUR MINDS THEDISTINCT IDEAS, if we consider that number is not generally thought byus infinite, whereas duration and extension are apt to be so; whicharises from hence, --that in number we are at one end, as it were: forthere being in number nothing LESS than an unit, we there stop, and areat an end; but in addition, or increase of number, we can set no bounds:and so it is like a line, whereof one end terminating with us, the otheris extended still forwards, beyond all that we can conceive. But inspace and duration it is otherwise. For in duration we consider it asif this line of number were extended BOTH ways--to an unconceivable, undeterminate, and infinite length; which is evident to anyone that willbut reflect on what consideration he hath of Eternity; which, I suppose, will find to be nothing else but the turning this infinity of numberboth ways, a parte ante and a parte post, as they speak. For, when wewould consider eternity, a parte ante, what do we but, beginning fromourselves and the present time we are in, repeat in our minds ideas ofyears, or ages, or any other assignable portion of duration past, with aprospect of proceeding in such addition with all the infinity of number:and when we would consider eternity, a parte post, we just after thesame rate begin from ourselves, and reckon by multiplied periods yet tocome, still extending that line of number as before. And these two beingput together, are that infinite duration we call ETERNITY which, as weturn our view either way, forwards or backward appears infinite, becausewe still turn that way the infinite end of number, i. E. The power stillof adding more. 11. How we conceive the Infinity of Space. The same happens also in space, wherein, conceiving ourselves to be, asit were, in the centre, we do on all sides pursue those indeterminablelines of number; and reckoning any way from ourselves, a yard, mile, diameter of the earth or orbis magnus, --by the infinity of number, weadd others to them, as often as we will. And having no more reason toset bounds to those repeated ideas than we have to set bounds to number, we have that indeterminable idea of immensity. 12. Infinite Divisibility. And since in any bulk of matter our thoughts can never arrive at theutmost divisibility, therefore there is an apparent infinity to usalso in that, which has the infinity also of number; but with thisdifference, --that, in the former considerations of the infinity of spaceand duration, we only use addition of numbers; whereas this is likethe division of an unit into its fractions, wherein the mind also canproceed in infinitum, as well as in the former additions; it beingindeed but the addition still of new numbers: though in the addition ofthe one, we can have no more the POSITIVE idea of a space infinitelygreat, than, in the division of the other, we can have the positive ideaof a body infinitely little;--our idea of infinity being, as I may say, a growing or fugitive idea, still in a boundless progression, that canstop nowhere. 13. No positive Idea of Infinity. Though it be hard, I think, to find anyone so absurd as to say he hasthe POSITIVE idea of an actual infinite number;--the infinity whereoflies only in a power still of adding any combination of units to anyformer number, and that as long and as much as one will; the like alsobeing in the infinity of space and duration, which power leaves alwaysto the mind room for endless additions;--yet there be those who imaginethey have positive ideas of infinite duration and space. It would, Ithink, be enough to destroy any such positive idea of infinite, to askhim that has it, --whether he could add to it or no; which would easilyshow the mistake of such a positive idea. We can, I think, have nopositive idea of any space or duration which is not made up of, andcommensurate to, repeated numbers of feet or yards, or days and years;which are the common measures, whereof we have the ideas in our minds, and whereby we judge of the greatness of this sort of quantities. Andtherefore, since an infinite idea of space or duration must needs bemade up of infinite parts, it can have no other infinity than that ofnumber CAPABLE still of further addition; but not an actual positiveidea of a number infinite. For, I think it is evident, that the additionof finite things together (as are all lengths whereof we have thepositive ideas) can never otherwise produce the idea of infinite thanas number does; which consisting of additions of finite units one toanother, suggests the idea of infinite, only by a power we find we haveof still increasing the sum, and adding more of the same kind; withoutcoming one jot nearer the end of such progression. 14. How we cannot have a positive idea of infinity in Quantity. They who would prove their idea of infinite to be positive, seem to meto do it by a pleasant argument, taken from the negation of an end;which being negative, the negation on it is positive. He that considersthat the end is, in body, but the extremity or superficies of that body, will not perhaps be forward to grant that the end is a bare negative:and he that perceives the end of his pen is black or white, will be aptto think that the end is something more than a pure negation. Nor isit, when applied to duration, the bare negation of existence, but moreproperly the last moment of it. But as they will have the end to benothing but the bare negation of existence, I am sure they cannot denybut the beginning of the first instant of being, and is not by any bodyconceived to be a bare negation; and therefore, by their own argument, the idea of eternal, À PARTE ANTE, or of a duration without a beginning, is but a negative idea. 15. What is positive, what negative, in our Idea of infinite. The idea of infinite has, I confess, something of positive in allthose things we apply to it. When we would think of infinite space orduration, we at first step usually make some very large idea, as perhapsof millions of ages, or miles, which possibly we double and multiplyseveral times. All that we thus amass together in our thoughts ispositive, and the assemblage of a great number of positive ideas ofspace or duration. But what still remains beyond this we have no more apositive distinct notion of than a mariner has of the depth of the sea;where, having let down a large portion of his sounding-line, he reachesno bottom. Whereby he knows the depth to be so many fathoms, and more;but how much the more is, he hath no distinct notion at all: and couldhe always supply new line, and find the plummet always sink, withoutever stopping, he would be something in the posture of the mind reachingafter a complete and positive idea of infinity. In which case, let thisline be ten, or ten thousand fathoms long, it equally discovers what isbeyond it, and gives only this confused and comparative idea, that thisis not all, but one may yet go farther. So much as the mind comprehendsof any space, it has a positive idea of: but in endeavouring to make itinfinite, --it being always enlarging, always advancing, --the idea isstill imperfect and incomplete. So much space as the mind takes a viewof in its contemplation of greatness, is a clear picture, and positivein the understanding: but infinite is still greater. 1. Then the idea ofSO MUCH is positive and clear. 2. The idea of GREATER is also clear; butit is but a comparative idea, the idea of SO MUCH GREATER AS CANNOT BECOMPREHENDED. 3. And this is plainly negative: not positive. For he hasno positive clear idea of the largeness of any extension, (which is thatsought for in the idea of infinite), that has not a comprehensive ideaof the dimensions of it: and such, nobody, I think, pretends to in whatis infinite. For to say a man has a positive clear idea of any quantity, without knowing how great it is, is as reasonable as to say, he has thepositive clear idea of the number of the sands on the sea-shore, whoknows not how many there be, but only that they are more than twenty. For just such a perfect and positive idea has he of an infinite space orduration, who says it is LARGER THAN the extent or duration of ten, onehundred, one thousand, or any other number of miles, or years, whereofhe has or can have a positive idea; which is all the idea, I think, wehave of infinite. So that what lies beyond our positive idea TOWARDSinfinity, lies in obscurity, and has the indeterminate confusion of anegative idea, wherein I know I neither do nor can comprehend all Iwould, it being too large for a finite and narrow capacity. And thatcannot but be very far from a positive complete idea, wherein thegreatest part of what I would comprehend is left out, under theundeterminate intimation of being still greater. For to say, that, having in any quantity measured so much, or gone so far, you are not yetat the end, is only to say that that quantity is greater. So that thenegation of an end in any quantity is, in other words, only to say thatit is bigger; and a total negation of an end is but carrying this biggerstill with you, in all the progressions your thoughts shall make inquantity; and adding this IDEA OF STILL GREATER to ALL the ideas youhave, or can be supposed to have, of quantity. Now, whether such an ideaas that be positive, I leave any one to consider. 16. We have no positive Idea of an infinite Duration. I ask those who say they have a positive idea of eternity, whether theiridea of duration includes in it succession, or not? If it does not, theyought to show the difference of their notion of duration, when appliedto an eternal Being, and to a finite; since, perhaps, there maybe others as well as I, who will own to them their weakness ofunderstanding in this point, and acknowledge that the notion they haveof duration forces them to conceive, that whatever has duration, is of alonger continuance to-day than it was yesterday. If, to avoid successionin external existence, they return to the punctum stans of the schools, I suppose they will thereby very little mend the matter, or help us to amore clear and positive idea of infinite duration; there being nothingmore inconceivable to me than duration without succession. Besides, thatpunctum stans, if it signify anything, being not quantum, finite orinfinite cannot belong to it. But, if our weak apprehensions cannotseparate succession from any duration whatsoever, our idea of eternitycan be nothing but of INFINITE SUCCESSION OF MOMENTS OF DURATION WHEREINANYTHING DOES EXIST; and whether any one has, or can have, a positiveidea of an actual infinite number, I leave him to consider, till hisinfinite number be so great that he himself can add no more to it; andas long as he can increase it, I doubt he himself will think the idea hehath of it a little too scanty for positive infinity. 17. No complete Idea of Eternal Being. I think it unavoidable for every considering, rational creature, thatwill but examine his own or any other existence, to have the notionof an eternal, wise Being, who had no beginning: and such an idea ofinfinite duration I am sure I have. But this negation of a beginning, being but the negation of a positive thing, scarce gives me a positiveidea of infinity; which, whenever I endeavour to extend my thoughtsto, I confess myself at a loss, and I find I cannot attain any clearcomprehension of it. 18. No positive Idea of infinite Space. He that thinks he has a positive idea of infinite space, will, whenhe considers it, find that he can no more have a positive idea of thegreatest, than he has of the least space. For in this latter, whichseems the easier of the two, and more within our comprehension, we arecapable only of a comparative idea of smallness, which will always beless than any one whereof we have the positive idea. All our POSITIVEideas of any quantity, whether great or little, have always bounds, though our COMPARATIVE idea, whereby we can always add to the one, andtake from the other, hath no bounds. For that which remains, eithergreat or little, not being comprehended in that positive idea which wehave, lies in obscurity; and we have no other idea of it, but of thepower of enlarging the one and diminishing the other, WITHOUT CEASING. A pestle and mortar will as soon bring any particle of matter toindivisibility, as the acutest thought of a mathematician; and asurveyor may as soon with his chain measure out infinite space, as aphilosopher by the quickest flight of mind reach it or by thinkingcomprehend it; which is to have a positive idea of it. He that thinks ona cube of an inch diameter, has a clear and positive idea of it in hismind, and so can frame one of 1/2, 1/4, 1/8, and so on, till he has theidea in his thoughts of something very little; but yet reaches not theidea of that incomprehensible littleness which division can produce. What remains of smallness is as far from his thoughts as when he firstbegan; and therefore he never comes at all to have a clear and positiveidea of that smallness which is consequent to infinite divisibility. 19. What is positive, what negative, in our Idea of Infinite. Every one that looks towards infinity does, as I have said, at firstglance make some very large idea of that which he applies it to, letit be space or duration; and possibly he wearies his thoughts, bymultiplying in his mind that first large idea: but yet by that he comesno nearer to the having a positive clear idea of what remains to make upa positive infinite, than the country fellow had of the water which wasyet to come, and pass the channel of the river where he stood: 'Rusticus expectat dum defluat amnis, at ille Labitur, et labetur inomne volubilis aevum. ' 20. Some think they have a positive Idea of Eternity, and not ofinfinite Space. There are some I have met that put so much difference between infiniteduration and infinite space, that they persuade themselves that theyhave a positive idea of eternity, but that they have not, nor can haveany idea of infinite space. The reason of which mistake I suppose to bethis--that finding, by a due contemplation of causes and effects, thatit is necessary to admit some Eternal Being, and so to consider the realexistence of that Being as taken up and commensurate to their idea ofeternity; but, on the other side, not finding it necessary, but, onthe contrary, apparently absurd, that body should be infinite, theyforwardly conclude that they can have no idea of infinite space, becausethey can have no idea of infinite matter. Which consequence, I conceive, is very ill collected, because the existence of matter is no waysnecessary to the existence of space, no more than the existence ofmotion, or the sun, is necessary to duration, though duration uses to bemeasured by it. And I doubt not but that a man may have the idea of tenthousand miles square, without any body so big, as well as the idea often thousand years, without any body so old. It seems as easy to me tohave the idea of space empty of body, as to think of the capacity of abushel without corn, or the hollow of a nut-shell without a kernel init: it being no more necessary that there should be existing a solidbody, infinitely extended, because we have an idea of the infinity ofspace, than it is necessary that the world should be eternal, because wehave an idea of infinite duration. And why should we think our idea ofinfinite space requires the real existence of matter to support it, whenwe find that we have as clear an idea of an infinite duration to come, as we have of infinite duration past? Though I suppose nobody thinks itconceivable that anything does or has existed in that future duration. Nor is it possible to join our idea of future duration with presentor past existence, any more than it is possible to make the ideas ofyesterday, to-day, and to-morrow to be the same; or bring ages past andfuture together, and make them contemporary. But if these men are of themind, that they have clearer ideas of infinite duration than of infinitespace, because it is past doubt that God has existed from all eternity, but there is no real matter co-extended with infinite space; yet thosephilosophers who are of opinion that infinite space is possessed byGod's infinite omnipresence, as well as infinite duration by his eternalexistence, must be allowed to have as clear an idea of infinite space asof infinite duration; though neither of them, I think, has any positiveidea of infinity in either case. For whatsoever positive ideas a man hasin his mind of any quantity, he can repeat it, and add it to the former, as easy as he can add together the ideas of two days, or two paces, which are positive ideas of lengths he has in his mind, and so on aslong as he pleases: whereby, if a man had a positive idea of infinite, either duration or space, he could add two infinites together; nay, makeone infinite infinitely bigger than another--absurdities too gross to beconfuted. 21. Supposed positive Ideas of Infinity, cause of Mistakes. But yet if after all this, there be men who persuade themselves thatthey have clear positive comprehensive ideas of infinity, it is fit theyenjoy their privilege: and I should be very glad (with some others thatI know, who acknowledge they have none such) to be better informed bytheir communication. For I have been hitherto apt to think that thegreat and inextricable difficulties which perpetually involve alldiscourses concerning infinity, --whether of space, duration, ordivisibility, have been the certain marks of a defect in our ideasof infinity, and the disproportion the nature thereof has to thecomprehension of our narrow capacities. For, whilst men talk and disputeof infinite space or duration, as if they had as complete and positiveideas of them as they have of the names they use for them, or as theyhave of a yard, or an hour, or any other determinate quantity; it is nowonder if the incomprehensible nature of the thing they discourse of, orreason about, leads them into perplexities and contradictions, and theirminds be overlaid by an object too large and mighty to be surveyed andmanaged by them. 22. All these are modes of Ideas got from Sensation andReflection. If I have dwelt pretty long on the consideration of duration, space, andnumber, and what arises from the contemplation of them, --Infinity, it ispossibly no more than the matter requires; there being few simple ideaswhose MODES give more exercise to the thoughts of men than those do. Ipretend not to treat of them in their full latitude. It suffices tomy design to show how the mind receives them, such as they are, fromsensation and reflection; and how even the idea we have of infinity, howremote soever it may seem to be from any object of sense, or operationof our mind, has, nevertheless, as all our other ideas, its originalthere. Some mathematicians perhaps, of advanced speculations, may haveother ways to introduce into their minds ideas of infinity. But thishinders not but that they themselves, as well as all other men, got thefirst ideas which they had of infinity from sensation and reflection, inthe method we have here set down. CHAPTER XVIII. OTHER SIMPLE MODES. 1. Other simple Modes of simple Ideas of sensation. Though I have, in the foregoing chapters, shown how from simple ideastaken in by sensation, the mind comes to extend itself even to infinity;which, however it may of all others seem most remote from any sensibleperception, yet at last hath nothing in it but what is made out ofsimple ideas: received into the mind by the senses, and afterwards thereput together, by the faculty the mind has to repeat its own ideas;--Though, I say, these might be instances enough of simple modes of thesimple ideas of sensation, and suffice to show how the mind comes bythem, yet I shall, for method's sake, though briefly, give an account ofsome few more, and then proceed to more complex ideas. 2. Simple modes of motion. To slide, roll, tumble, walk, creep, run, dance, leap, skip, andabundance of others that might be named, are words which are no soonerheard but every one who understands English has presently in his minddistinct ideas, which are all but the different modifications of motion. Modes of motion answer those of extension; swift and slow are twodifferent ideas of motion, the measures whereof are made of thedistances of time and space put together; so they are complex ideas, comprehending time and space with motion. 3. Modes of Sounds. The like variety have we in sounds. Every articulate word is a differentmodification of sound; by which we see that, from the sense of hearing, by such modifications, the mind may be furnished with distinct ideas, toalmost an infinite number. Sounds also, besides the distinct cries ofbirds and beasts, are modified by diversity of notes of different lengthput together, which make that complex idea called a tune, which amusician may have in his mind when he hears or makes no sound at all, byreflecting on the ideas of those sounds, so put together silently in hisown fancy. 4. Modes of Colours. Those of colours are also very various: some we take notice of as thedifferent degrees, or as they were termed shades, of the same colour. But since we very seldom make assemblages of colours, either for useor delight, but figure is taken in also, and has its part in it, as inpainting, weaving, needleworks, &c. ;--those which are taken notice of domost commonly belong to MIXED MODES, as being made up of ideas of diverskinds, viz. Figure and colour, such as beauty, rainbow, &c. 5. Modes of Tastes. All compounded tastes and smells are also modes, made up of the simpleideas of those senses. But they, being such as generally we have nonames for, are less taken notice of, and cannot be set down in writing;and therefore must be left without enumeration to the thoughts andexperience of my reader. 6. Some simple Modes have no Names. In general it may be observed, that those simple modes which areconsidered but as different DEGREES of the same simple idea, though theyare in themselves many of them very distinct ideas, yet have ordinarilyno distinct names, nor are much taken notice of, as distinct ideas, where the difference is but very small between them. Whether men haveneglected these modes, and given no names to them, as wanting measuresnicely to distinguish them; or because, when they were so distinguished, that knowledge would not be of general or necessary use, I leave it tothe thoughts of others. It is sufficient to my purpose to show, that allour simple ideas come to our minds only by sensation and reflection; andthat when the mood has them, it can variously repeat and compound them, and so make new complex ideas. But, though white, red, or sweet, &c. Have not been modified, or made into complex ideas, by severalcombinations, so as to be named, and thereby ranked into species; yetsome others of the simple ideas, viz. Those of unity, duration, andmotion, &c. , above instanced in, as also power and thinking, have beenthus modified to a great variety of complex ideas, with names belongingto them. 7. Why some Modes have, and others have not, Names. The reason whereof, I suppose, has been this, --That the greatconcernment of men being with men one amongst another, the knowledge ofmen, and their actions, and the signifying of them to one another, wasmost necessary; and therefore they made ideas of ACTIONS very nicelymodified, and gave those complex ideas names, that they might the moreeasily record and discourse of those things they were daily conversantin, without long ambages and circumlocutions; and that the things theywere continually to give and receive information about might be theeasier and quicker understood. That this is so, and that men in framingdifferent complex ideas, and giving them names, have been much governedby the end of speech in general, (which is a very short and expedite wayof conveying their thoughts one to another), is evident in the nameswhich in several arts have been found out, and applied to severalcomplex ideas of modified actions, belonging to their several trades, for dispatch sake, in their direction or discourses about them. Whichideas are not generally framed in the minds of men not conversant aboutthese operations. And thence the words that stand for them, by thegreatest part of men of the same language, are not understood: v. G. COLTSHIRE, DRILLING, FILTRATION, COHOBATION, are words standing forcertain complex ideas, which being seldom in the minds of any but thosefew whose particular employments do at every turn suggest them to theirthoughts, those names of them are not generally understood but by smithsand chymists; who, having framed the complex ideas which these wordsstand for, and having given names to them, or received them from others, upon hearing of these names in communication, readily conceive thoseideas in their minds;-as by COHOBATION all the simple ideas ofdistilling, and the pouring the liquor distilled from anything back uponthe remaining matter, and distilling it again. Thus we see that thereare great varieties of simple ideas, as of tastes and smells, which haveno names; and of modes many more; which either not having been generallyenough observed, or else not being of any great use to be taken noticeof in the affairs and converse of men, they have not had names given tothem, and so pass not for species. This we shall have occasion hereafterto consider more at large, when we come to speak of WORDS. CHAPTER XIX. OF THE MODES OF THINKING. 1. Sensation, Remembrance, Contemplation, &c. , modes of thinking. When the mind turns its view inwards upon itself, and contemplates itsown actions, THINKING is the first that occurs. In it the mind observesa great variety of modifications, and from thence receives distinctideas. Thus the perception or thought which actually accompanies, andis annexed to, any impression on the body, made by an external object, being distinct from all other modifications of thinking, furnishes themind with a distinct idea, which we call SENSATION;--which is, as itwere, the actual entrance of any idea into the understanding by thesenses. The same idea, when it again recurs without the operation of thelike object on the external sensory, is REMEMBRANCE: if it be soughtafter by the mind, and with pain and endeavour found, and brought againin view, it is RECOLLECTION: if it be held there long under attentiveconsideration, it is CONTEMPLATION: when ideas float in our mind withoutany reflection or regard of the understanding, it is that which theFrench call REVERIE; our language has scarce a name for it: when theideas that offer themselves (for, as I have observed in another place, whilst we are awake, there will always be a train of ideas succeedingone another in our minds) are taken notice of, and, as it were, registered in the memory, it is ATTENTION: when the mind with greatearnestness, and of choice, fixes its view on any idea, considers it onall sides, and will not be called off by the ordinary solicitation ofother ideas, it is that we call INTENTION or STUDY: sleep, withoutdreaming, is rest from all these: and DREAMING itself is the having ofideas (whilst the outward senses are stopped, so that they receive notoutward objects with their usual quickness) in the mind, not suggestedby any external objects, or known occasion; nor under any choice orconduct of the understanding at all: and whether that which we callECSTASY be not dreaming with the eyes open, I leave to be examined. 2. Other modes of thinking. These are some few instances of those various modes of thinking, whichthe mind may observe in itself, and so have as distinct ideas of asit hath of white and red, a square or a circle. I do not pretend toenumerate them all, nor to treat at large of this set of ideas, whichare got from reflection: that would be to make a volume. It suffices tomy present purpose to have shown here, by some few examples, of whatsort these ideas are, and how the mind comes by them; especially sinceI shall have occasion hereafter to treat more at large of REASONING, JUDGING, VOLITION, and KNOWLEDGE, which are some of the mostconsiderable operations of the mind, and modes of thinking. 3. The various degrees of Attention in thinking. But perhaps it may not be an unpardonable digression, nor whollyimpertinent to our present design, if we reflect here upon the differentstate of the mind in thinking, which those instances of attention, reverie, and dreaming, &c. , before mentioned, naturally enough suggest. That there are ideas, some or other, always present in the mind ofa waking man, every one's experience convinces him; though the mindemploys itself about them with several degrees of attention. Sometimesthe mind fixes itself with so much earnestness on the contemplationof some objects, that it turns their ideas on all sides; marks theirrelations and circumstances; and views every part so nicely and withsuch intention, that it shuts out all other thoughts, and takes nonotice of the ordinary impressions made then on the senses, which atanother season would produce very sensible perceptions: at other timesit barely observes the train of ideas that succeed in the understanding, without directing and pursuing any of them: and at other times itlets them pass almost quite unregarded, as faint shadows that make noimpression. 4. Hence it is probable that Thinking is the Action, not the Essence ofthe Soul. This difference of intention, and remission of the mind in thinking, with a great variety of degrees between earnest study and very nearminding nothing at all, every one, I think, has experimented in himself. Trace it a little further, and you find the mind in sleep retired as itwere from the senses, and out of the reach of those motions made on theorgans of sense, which at other times produce very vivid and sensibleideas. I need not, for this, instance in those who sleep out wholestormy nights, without hearing the thunder, or seeing the lightning, orfeeling the shaking of the house, which are sensible enough to those whoare waking. But in this retirement of the mind from the senses, it oftenretains a yet more loose and incoherent manner of thinking, which wecall dreaming. And, last of all, sound sleep closes the scene quite, and puts an end to all appearances. This, I think almost every one hasexperience of in himself, and his own observation without difficultyleads him thus far. That which I would further conclude from hence is, that since the mind can sensibly put on, at several times, severaldegrees of thinking, and be sometimes, even in a waking man, so remiss, as to have thoughts dim and obscure to that degree that they are verylittle removed from none at all; and at last, in the dark retirements ofsound sleep, loses the sight perfectly of all ideas whatsoever: since, Isay, this is evidently so in matter of fact and constant experience, Iask whether it be not probable, that thinking is the action and not theessence of the soul? Since the operations of agents will easily admit ofintention and remission: but the essences of things are not conceivedcapable of any such variation. But this by the by. CHAPTER XX. OF MODES OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. 1. Pleasure and Pain, simple Ideas. AMONGST the simple ideas which we receive both from sensation andreflection, PAIN and PLEASURE are two very considerable ones. For as inthe body there is sensation barely in itself, or accompanied with painor pleasure, so the thought or perception of the mind is simply so, orelse accompanied also with pleasure or pain, delight or trouble, call ithow you please. These, like other simple ideas, cannot be described, northeir names defined; the way of knowing them is, as of the simple ideasof the senses, only by experience. For, to define them by the presenceof good or evil, is no otherwise to make them known to us than by makingus reflect on what we feel in ourselves, upon the several and variousoperations of good and evil upon our minds, as they are differentlyapplied to or considered by us. 2. Good and evil, what. Things then are good or evil, only in reference to pleasure or pain. That we call GOOD, which is apt to cause or increase pleasure, ordiminish pain in us; or else to procure or preserve us the possession ofany other good or absence of any evil. And, on the contrary, we namethat EVIL which is apt to produce or increase any pain, or diminish anypleasure in us: or else to procure us any evil, or deprive us of anygood. By pleasure and pain, I must be understood to mean of body ormind, as they are commonly distinguished; though in truth they be onlydifferent constitutions of the MIND, sometimes occasioned by disorder inthe body, sometimes by thoughts of the mind. 3. Our passions moved by Good and Evil. Pleasure and pain and that which causes them, --good and evil, are thehinges on which our passions turn. And if we reflect on ourselves, andobserve how these, under various considerations, operate in us; whatmodifications or tempers of mind, what internal sensations (if I may socall them) they produce in us we may thence form to ourselves the ideasof our passions. 4. Love. Thus any one reflecting upon the thought he has of the delight which anypresent or absent thing is apt to produce in him, has the idea we callLOVE. For when a man declares in autumn when he is eating them, or inspring when there are none, that he loves grapes, it is no more butthat the taste of grapes delights him: let an alteration of health orconstitution destroy the delight of their taste, and he then can be saidto love grapes no longer. 5. Hatred. On the contrary, the thought of the pain which anything present orabsent is apt to produce in us, is what we call HATRED. Were it mybusiness here to inquire any further than into the bare ideas of ourpassions, as they depend on different modifications of pleasure andpain, I should remark that our love and hatred of inanimate insensiblebeings is commonly founded on that pleasure and pain which we receivefrom their use and application any way to our senses though with theirdestruction. But hatred or love, to beings capable of happiness ormisery, is often the uneasiness of delight which we find in ourselves, arising from their very being or happiness. Thus the being and welfareof a man's children or friends, producing constant delight in him, he issaid constantly to love them. But it suffices to note, that our ideasof love and hatred are but the dispositions of the mind, in respect ofpleasure and pain in general, however caused in us. 6. Desire. The uneasiness a man finds in himself upon the absence of anything whosepresent enjoyment carries the idea of delight with it, is that we callDESIRE; which is greater or less as that uneasiness is more or lessvehement. Where, by the by, it may perhaps be of some use to remark, that the chief, if not only spur to human industry and action isUNEASINESS. For whatsoever good is proposed, if its absence carries nodispleasure or pain with it, if a man be easy and content without it, there is no desire of it, nor endeavour after it; there is no more but abare velleity, the term used to signify the lowest degree of desire, andthat which is next to none at all, when there is so little uneasinessin the absence of anything, that it carries a man no further than somefaint wishes for it, without any more effectual or vigorous use of themeans to attain it. Desire also is stopped or abated by the opinion ofthe impossibility or unattainableness of the good proposed, as far asthe uneasiness is cured or allayed by that consideration. This mightcarry our thoughts further, were it seasonable in this place. 7. Joy. JOY is a delight of the mind, from the consideration of the present orassured approaching possession of a good; and we are then possessed ofany good, when we have it so in our power that we can use it when weplease. Thus a man almost starved has joy at the arrival of relief, evenbefore he has the pleasure of using it: and a father, in whom the verywell-being of his children causes delight, is always, as long as hischildren are in such a state, in the possession of that good; for heneeds but to reflect on it, to have that pleasure. 8. Sorrow. SORROW is uneasiness in the mind, upon the thought of a good lost, whichmight have been enjoyed longer; or the sense of a present evil. 9. Hope. HOPE is that pleasure in the mind, which every one finds in himself, upon the thought of a probable future enjoyment of a thing which is aptto delight him. 10. Fear. FEAR is an uneasiness of the mind, upon the thought of future evillikely to befal us. 11. Despair. DESPAIR is the thought of the unattainableness of any good, which worksdifferently in men's minds, sometimes producing uneasiness or pain, sometimes rest and indolency. 12. Anger. ANGER is uneasiness or discomposure of the mind, upon the receipt of anyinjury, with a present purpose of revenge. 13. Envy. ENVY is an uneasiness of the mind, caused by the consideration of a goodwe desire obtained by one we think should not have had it before us. 14. What Passions all Men have. These two last, ENVY and ANGER, not being caused by pain and pleasuresimply in themselves, but having in them some mixed considerations ofourselves and others, are not therefore to be found in all men, becausethose other parts, of valuing their merits, or intending revenge, iswanting in them. But all the rest, terminating purely in pain andpleasure, are, I think, to be found in all men. For we love, desire, rejoice, and hope, only in respect of pleasure; we hate, fear, andgrieve, only in respect of pain ultimately. In fine, all these passionsare moved by things, only as they appear to be the causes of pleasureand pain, or to have pleasure or pain some way or other annexed tothem. Thus we extend our hatred usually to the subject (at least, if asensible or voluntary agent) which has produced pain in us; because thefear it leaves is a constant pain: but we do not so constantly love whathas done us good; because pleasure operates not so strongly on us aspain, and because we are not so ready to have hope it will do so again. But this by the by. 15. Pleasure and Pain, what. By pleasure and pain, delight and uneasiness, I must all along beunderstood (as I have above intimated) to mean not only bodily pain andpleasure, but whatsoever delight or uneasiness is felt by us, whetherarising from any grateful or unacceptable sensation or reflection. 16. Removal or lessening of either. It is further to be considered, that, in reference to the passions, the removal or lessening of a pain is considered, and operates, as apleasure: and the loss or diminishing of a pleasure, as a pain. 17. Shame. The passions too have most of them, in most persons, operations on thebody, and cause various changes in it; which not being always sensible, do not make a necessary part of the idea of each passion. For SHAME, which is an uneasiness of the mind upon the thought of having donesomething which is indecent, or will lessen the valued esteem whichothers have for us, has not always blushing accompanying it. 18. These Instances to show how our Ideas of the Passions are got fromSensation and Reflection. I would not be mistaken here, as if I meant this as a Discourse of thePassions; they are many more than those I have here named: and those Ihave taken notice of would each of them require a much larger andmore accurate discourse. I have only mentioned these here, as so manyinstances of modes of pleasure and pain resulting in our minds fromvarious considerations of good and evil. I might perhaps have instancedin other modes of pleasure and pain, more simple than these; as the painof hunger and thirst, and the pleasure of eating and drinking to removethem: the pain of teeth set on edge; the pleasure of music; painfrom captious uninstructive wrangling, and the pleasure of rationalconversation with a friend, or of well-directed study in the search anddiscovery of truth. But the passions being of much more concernment tous, I rather made choice to instance in them, and show how the ideas wehave of them are derived from sensation or reflection. CHAPTER XXI. OF POWER. 1. This Idea how got. The mind being every day informed, by the senses, of the alteration ofthose simple ideas it observes in things without; and taking notice howone comes to an end, and ceases to be, and another begins to existwhich was not before; reflecting also on what passes within itself, andobserving a constant change of its ideas, sometimes by the impression ofoutward objects on the senses, and sometimes by the determination of itsown choice; and concluding from what it has so constantly observed tohave been, that the like changes will for the future be made in the samethings, by like agents, and by the like ways, --considers in one thingthe possibility of having any of its simple ideas changed, and inanother the possibility of making that change; and so comes by that ideawhich we call POWER. Thus we say, Fire has a power to melt gold, i. E. To destroy the consistency of its insensible parts, and consequently itshardness, and make it fluid; and gold has a power to be melted; that thesun has a power to blanch wax, and wax a power to be blanched by thesun, whereby the yellowness is destroyed, and whiteness made to existin its room. In which, and the like cases, the power we consider is inreference to the change of perceivable ideas. For we cannot observeany alteration to be made in, or operation upon anything, but by theobservable change of its sensible ideas; nor conceive any alteration tobe made, but by conceiving a change of some of its ideas. 2. Power, active and passive. Power thus considered is two-fold, viz. As able to make, or able toreceive any change. The one may be called ACTIVE, and the other PASSIVEpower. Whether matter be not wholly destitute of active power, asits author, God, is truly above all passive power; and whether theintermediate state of created spirits be not that alone which is capableof both active and passive power, may be worth consideration. I shallnot now enter into that inquiry, my present business being not to searchinto the original of power, but how we come by the IDEA of it. But sinceactive powers make so great a part of our complex ideas of naturalsubstances, (as we shall see hereafter, ) and I mention them as such, according to common apprehension; yet they being not, perhaps, so trulyACTIVE powers as our hasty thoughts are apt to represent them, Ijudge it not amiss, by this intimation, to direct our minds to theconsideration of God and spirits, for the clearest idea of ACTIVE power. 3. Power includes Relation. I confess power includes in it some kind of RELATION (a relation toaction or change, ) as indeed which of our ideas of what kind soever, when attentively considered, does not. For, our ideas of extension, duration, and number, do they not all contain in them a secret relationof the parts? Figure and motion have something relative in them muchmore visibly. And sensible qualities, as colours and smells, &c. What are they but the powers of different bodies, in relation to ourperception, &c. ? And, if considered in the things themselves, do theynot depend on the bulk, figure, texture, and motion of the parts? Allwhich include some kind of relation in them. Our idea therefore ofpower, I think, may well have a place amongst other SIMPLE IDEAS, andbe considered as one of them; being one of those that make a principalingredient in our complex ideas of substances, as we shall hereafterhave occasion to observe. 4. The clearest Idea of active Power had from Spirit. Of passive power all sensible things abundantly furnish us with sensibleideas, whose sensible qualities and beings we find to be in continualflux. And therefore with reason we look on them as liable still to thesame change. Nor have we of ACTIVE power (which is the more propersignification of the word power) fewer instances. Since whatever changeis observed, the mind must collect a power somewhere able to make thatchange, as well as a possibility in the thing itself to receive it. Butyet, if we will consider it attentively, bodies, by our senses, do notafford us so clear and distinct an idea of active power, as we have fromreflection on the operations of our minds. For all power relating toaction, and there being but two sorts of action whereof we have an idea, viz. Thinking and motion, let us consider whence we have the clearestideas of the powers which produce these actions. (1) Of thinking, bodyaffords us no idea at all; it is only from reflection that we have that. (2) Neither have we from body any idea of the beginning of motion. Abody at rest affords us no idea of any active power to move; and when itis set in motion itself, that motion is rather a passion than an actionin it. For, when the ball obeys the motion of a billiard-stick, it isnot any action of the ball, but bare passion. Also when by impulse itsets another ball in motion that lay in its way, it only communicatesthe motion it had received from another, and loses in itself so much asthe other received: which gives us but a very obscure idea of an ACTIVEpower of moving in body, whilst we observe it only to TRANSFER, but notPRODUCE any motion. For it is but a very obscure idea of power whichreaches not the production of the action, but the continuation ofthe passion. For so is motion in a body impelled by another; thecontinuation of the alteration made in it from rest to motion beinglittle more an action, than the continuation of the alteration of itsfigure by the same blow is an action. The idea of the BEGINNING ofmotion we have only from reflection on what passes in ourselves; wherewe find by experience, that, barely by willing it, barely by a thoughtof the mind, we can move the parts of our bodies, which were beforeat rest. So that it seems to me, we have, from the observation of theoperation of bodies by our senses, but a very imperfect obscure idea ofACTIVE power; since they afford us not any idea in themselves of thepower to begin any action, either motion or thought. But if, from theimpulse bodies are observed to make one upon another, any one thinks hehas a clear idea of power, it serves as well to my purpose; sensationbeing one of those ways whereby the mind comes by its ideas: only Ithought it worth while to consider here, by the way, whether the minddoth not receive its idea of active power clearer from reflection on itsown operations, than it doth from any external sensation. 5. Will and Understanding two Powers in Mind or Spirit. This, at least, I think evident, --That we find in ourselves a power tobegin or forbear, continue or end several actions of our minds, andmotions of our bodies, barely by a thought or preference of the mindordering, or as it were commanding, the doing or not doing such or sucha particular action. This power which the mind has thus to order theconsideration of any idea, or the forbearing to consider it; or toprefer the motion of any part of the body to its rest, and vice versa, in any particular instance, is that which we call the WILL. The actualexercise of that power, by directing any particular action, or itsforbearance, is that which we call VOLITION or WILLING. The forbearanceof that action, consequent to such order or command of the mind, iscalled VOLUNTARY. And whatsoever action is performed without such athought of the mind, is called INVOLUNTARY. The power of perception isthat which we call the UNDERSTANDING. Perception, which we make the actof the understanding, is of three sorts:--1. The perception of ideasin our minds. 2. The perception of the: signification of signs. 3. Theperception of the connexion or repugnancy, agreement or disagreement, that there is between any of our ideas. All these are attributed to theunderstanding, or perceptive power, though it be the two latter onlythat use allows us to say we understand. 6. Faculties not real beings. These powers of the mind, viz. Of perceiving, and of preferring, areusually called by another name. And the ordinary way of speaking is, that the understanding and will are two FACULTIES of the mind; a wordproper enough, if it be used, as all words should be, so as not to breedany confusion in men's thoughts, by being supposed (as I suspect it hasbeen) to stand for some real beings in the soul that performed thoseactions of understanding and volition. For when we say the WILL is thecommanding and superior faculty of the soul; that it is or is not free;that it determines the inferior faculties; that it follows the dictatesof the understanding, &c. , --though these and the like expressions, by those that carefully attend to their own ideas, and conduct theirthoughts more by the evidence of things than the sound of words, may beunderstood in a clear and distinct sense--yet I suspect, I say, thatthis way of speaking of FACULTIES has misled many into a confused notionof so many distinct agents in us, which had their several provinces andauthorities, and did command, obey, and perform several actions, as somany distinct beings; which has been no small occasion of wrangling, obscurity, and uncertainty, in questions relating to them. 7. Whence the Ideas of Liberty and Necessity. Every one, I think, finds in HIMSELF a power to begin or forbear, continue or put an end to several actions in himself. From theconsideration of the extent of this power of the mind over the actionsof the man, which everyone finds in himself, arise the IDEAS of LIBERTYand NECESSITY. 8. Liberty, what. All the actions that we have any idea of reducing themselves, as hasbeen said, to these two, viz. Thinking and motion; so far as a man haspower to think or not to think, to move or not to move, according to thepreference or direction of his own mind, so far is a man FREE. Whereverany performance or forbearance are not equally in a man's power;wherever doing or not doing will not equally FOLLOW upon the preferenceof his mind directing it, there he is not free, though perhaps theaction may be voluntary. So that the idea of LIBERTY is, the idea of apower in any agent to do or forbear any particular action, accordingto the determination or thought of the mind, whereby either of them ispreferred to the other: where either of them is not in the power of theagent to be produced by him according to his volition, there he is notat liberty; that agent is under NECESSITY. So that liberty cannot bewhere there is no thought, no volition, no will; but there may bethought, there may be will, there may be volition, where there is noliberty. A little consideration of an obvious instance or two may makethis clear. 9. Supposes Understanding and Will. A tennis-ball, whether in motion by the stroke of a racket, or lyingstill at rest, is not by any one taken to be a free agent. If weinquire into the reason, we shall find it is because we conceive nota tennis-ball to think, and consequently not to have any volition, orPREFERENCE of motion to rest, or vice versa; and therefore has notliberty, is not a free agent; but all its both motion and rest comeunder our idea of necessary, and are so called. Likewise a man fallinginto the water, (a bridge breaking under him, ) has not herein liberty, is not a free agent. For though he has volition, though he prefers hisnot falling to falling; yet the forbearance of that motion not being inhis power, the stop or cessation of that motion follows not upon hisvolition; and therefore therein he is not free. So a man strikinghimself, or his friend, by a convulsive motion of his arm, which it isnot in his power, by volition or the direction of his mind, to stop orforbear, nobody thinks he has in this liberty; every one pities him, asacting by necessity and constraint. 10. Belongs not to Volition. Again: suppose a man be carried, whilst fast asleep, into a room whereis a person he longs to see and speak with; and be there locked fast in, beyond his power to get out: he awakes, and is glad to find himself inso desirable company, which he stays willingly in, i. E. Prefers hisstay to going away. I ask, is not this stay voluntary? I think nobodywill doubt it: and yet, being locked fast in, it is evident he is not atliberty not to stay, he has not freedom to be gone. So that liberty isnot an idea belonging to volition, or preferring; but to the personhaving the power of doing, or forbearing to do, according as the mindshall choose or direct. Our idea of liberty reaches as far as thatpower, and no farther. For wherever restraint comes to check that power, or compulsion takes away that indifferency of ability to act, or toforbear acting, there liberty, and our notion of it, presently ceases. 11. Voluntary opposed to involuntary. We have instances enough, and often more than enough, in our own bodies. A man's heart beats, and the blood circulates, which it is not in hispower by any thought or volition to stop; and therefore in respect ofthese motions, where rest depends not on his choice, nor would followthe determination of his mind, if it should prefer it, he is not a freeagent. Convulsive motions agitate his legs, so that though he wills itever so much, he cannot by any power of his mind stop their motion, (asin that odd disease called chorea sancti viti), but he is perpetuallydancing; he is not at liberty in this action, but under as muchnecessity of moving, as a stone that falls, or a tennis-ball struckwith a racket. On the other side, a palsy or the stocks hinder his legsfrom obeying the determination of his mind, if it would thereby transferhis body to another place. In all these there is want of freedom; thoughthe sitting still, even of a paralytic, whilst he prefers it to aremoval, is truly voluntary. Voluntary, then, is not opposed tonecessary but to involuntary. For a man may prefer what he can do, towhat he cannot do; the state he is in, to its absence or change; thoughnecessity has made it in itself unalterable. 12. Liberty, what. As it is in the motions of the body, so it is in the thoughts of ourminds: where any one is such, that we have power to take it up, or layit by, according to the preference of the mind, there we are at liberty. A waking man, being under the necessity of having some ideas constantlyin his mind, is not at liberty to think or not to think; no more than heis at liberty, whether his body shall touch any other or no, but whetherhe will remove his contemplation from one idea to another is many timesin his choice; and then he is, in respect of his ideas, as much atliberty as he is in respect of bodies he rests on; he can at pleasureremove himself from one to another. But yet some ideas to the mind, likesome motions to the body, are such as in certain circumstances it cannotavoid, nor obtain their absence by the utmost effort it can use. A manon the rack is not at liberty to lay by the idea of pain, and diverthimself with other contemplations: and sometimes a boisterous passionhurries our thoughts, as a hurricane does our bodies, without leaving usthe liberty of thinking on other things, which we would rather choose. But as soon as the mind regains the power to stop or continue, begin orforbear, any of these motions of the body without, or thoughts within, according as it thinks fit to prefer either to the other, we thenconsider the man as a FREE AGENT again. 13. Wherever thought is wholly wanting, or the power to act or forbearaccording to the direction of thought, there necessity takes place. This, in an agent capable of volition, when the beginning orcontinuation of any action is contrary to that preference of his mind, is called compulsion; when the hindering or stopping any action iscontrary to his volition, it is called restraint. Agents that have nothought, no volition at all, are in everything NECESSARY AGENTS. 14. If this be so, (as I imagine it is, ) I leave it to be considered, whether it may not help to put an end to that long agitated, and, Ithink, unreasonable, because unintelligible question, viz. WHETHER MAN'SWILL BE FREE OR NO? For if I mistake not, it follows from what I havesaid, that the question itself is altogether improper; and it is asinsignificant to ask whether man's WILL be free, as to ask whether hissleep be swift, or his virtue square: liberty being as little applicableto the will, as swiftness of motion is to sleep, or squareness tovirtue. Every one would laugh at the absurdity of such a question aseither of these: because it is obvious that the modifications of motionbelong not to sleep, nor the difference Of figure to virtue; and whenany one well considers it, I think he will as plainly perceive thatliberty, which is but a power, belongs only to AGENTS, and cannot be anattribute or modification of the will, which is also but a power. 15. Volition. Such is the difficulty of explaining and giving clear notions ofinternal actions by sounds, that I must here warn my reader, thatORDERING, DIRECTING, CHOOSING, PREFERRING, &c. Which I have made use of, will not distinctly enough express volition, unless he will reflect onwhat he himself does when he wills. For example, preferring, which seemsperhaps best to express the act of volition, does it not precisely. Forthough a man would prefer flying to walking, yet who can say he everwills it? Volition, it is plain, is an act of the mind knowinglyexerting that dominion it takes itself to have over any part of the man, by employing it in, or withholding it from, any particular action. And what is the will, but the faculty to do this? And is that facultyanything more in effect than a power; the power of the mind to determineits thought, to the producing, continuing, or stopping any action, asfar as it depends on us? For can it be denied that whatever agent has apower to think on its own actions, and to prefer their doing or omissioneither to other, has that faculty called will? WILL, then, is nothingbut such a power. LIBERTY, on the other side, is the power a MAN hasto do or forbear doing any particular action according as its doing orforbearance has the actual preference in the mind; which is the samething as to say, according as he himself wills it. 16. Powers belonging to Agents. It is plain then that the will is nothing but one power or ability, andFREEDOM another power or ability so that, to ask, whether the will hasfreedom, is to ask whether one power has another power, one abilityanother ability; a question at first sight too grossly absurd to makea dispute, or need an answer. For, who is it that sees not that powersbelong only to agents, and are attributes only of substances, and notof powers themselves? So that this way of putting the question (viz. Whether the will be free) is in effect to ask, whether the will bea substance, an agent, or at least to suppose it, since freedom canproperly be attributed to nothing else. If freedom can with anypropriety of speech be applied to power, it may be attributed to thepower that is in a man to produce, or forbear producing, motion in partsof his body, by choice or preference; which is that which denominateshim free, and is freedom itself. But if any one should ask, whetherfreedom were free, he would be suspected not to understand well what hesaid; and he would be thought to deserve Midas's ears, who, knowing thatrich was a denomination for the possession of riches, should demandwhether riches themselves were rich. 17. How the will instead of the man is called free. However, the name FACULTY, which men have given to this power called thewill, and whereby they have been led into a way of talking of the willas acting, may, by an appropriation that disguises its true sense, servea little to palliate the absurdity; yet the will, in truth, signifiesnothing but a power or ability to prefer or choose: and when the will, under the name of a faculty, is considered as it is, barely as anability to do something, the absurdity in saying it is free, or notfree, will easily discover itself. For, if it be reasonable to supposeand talk of faculties as distinct beings that can act, (as we do, whenwe say the will orders, and the will is free, ) it is fit that we shouldmake a speaking faculty, and a walking faculty, and a dancing faculty, by which these actions are produced, which are but several modes ofmotion; as well as we make the will and understanding to be faculties, by which the actions of choosing and perceiving are produced, which arebut several modes of thinking. And we may as properly say that it is thesinging faculty sings, and the dancing faculty dances, as that the willchooses, or that the understanding conceives; or, as is usual, that thewill directs the understanding, or the understanding obeys or obeys notthe will: it being altogether as proper and intelligible to say that thepower of speaking directs the power of singing, or the power of singingobeys or disobeys the power of speaking. 18. This way of talking causes confusion of thought. This way of talking, nevertheless, has prevailed, and, as I guess, produced great confusion. For these being all different powers in themind, or in the man, to do several actions, he exerts them as he thinksfit: but the power to do one action is not operated on by the power ofdoing another action. For the power of thinking operates not on thepower of choosing, nor the power of choosing on the power of thinking;no more than the power of dancing operates on the power of singing, orthe power of singing on the power of dancing, as any one who reflects onit will easily perceive. And yet this is it which we say when we thusspeak, that the will operates on the understanding, or the understandingon the will. 19. Powers are relations, not agents. I grant, that this or that actual thought may be the occasion ofvolition, or exercising the power a man has to choose; or the actualchoice of the mind, the cause of actual thinking on this or that thing:as the actual singing of such a tune may be the cause of dancing such adance, and the actual dancing of such a dance the occasion of singingsuch a tune. But in all these it is not one POWER that operates onanother: but it is the mind that operates, and exerts these powers; itis the man that does the action; it is the agent that has power, or isable to do. For powers are relations, not agents: and that which hasthe power or not the power to operate, is that alone which is or is notfree, and not the power itself. For freedom, or not freedom, can belongto nothing but what has or has not a power to act. 20. Liberty belongs not to the Will. The attributing to faculties that which belonged not to them, has givenoccasion to this way of talking: but the introducing into discoursesconcerning the mind, with the name of faculties, a notion of THEIRoperating, has, I suppose, as little advanced our knowledge in that partof ourselves, as the great use and mention of the like invention offaculties, in the operations of the body, has helped us in the knowledgeof physic. Not that I deny there are faculties, both in the body andmind: they both of them have their powers of operating, else neither theone nor the other could operate. For nothing can operate that is notable to operate; and that is not able to operate that has no power tooperate. Nor do I deny that those words, and the like, are to have theirplace in the common use of languages that have made them current. Itlooks like too much affectation wholly to lay them by: and philosophyitself, though it likes not a gaudy dress, yet, when it appears inpublic, must have so much complacency as to be clothed in the ordinaryfashion and language of the country, so far as it can consist with truthand perspicuity. But the fault has been, that faculties have been spokenof and represented as so many distinct agents. For, it being asked, whatit was that digested the meat in our stomachs? it was a ready and verysatisfactory answer to say, that it was the DIGESTIVE FACULTY. What wasit that made anything come out of the body? the EXPULSIVE FACULTY. Whatmoved? the MOTIVE FACULTY. And so in the mind, the INTELLECTUAL FACULTY, or the understanding, understood; and the ELECTIVE FACULTY, or the will, willed or commanded. This is, in short, to say, that the ability todigest, digested; and the ability to move, moved; and the ability tounderstand, understood. For faculty, ability, and power, I think, arebut different names of the same things: which ways of speaking, when putinto more intelligible words, will, I think, amount to thus much;--Thatdigestion is performed by something that is able to digest, motionby something able to move, and understanding by something able tounderstand. And, in truth, it would be very strange if it should beotherwise; as strange as it would be for a man to be free without beingable to be free. 21. But to the Agent, or Man. To return, then, to the inquiry about liberty, I think the question isnot proper, WHETHER THE WILL BE FREE, but WHETHER A MAN BE FREE. Thus, Ithink, First, That so far as any one can, by the direction or choice of hismind, preferring the existence of any action to the non-existence ofthat action, and vice versa, make IT to exist or not exist, so far HE isfree. For if I can, by a thought directing the motion of my finger, make it move when it was at rest, or vice versa, it is evident, that inrespect of that I am free: and if I can, by a like thought of my mind, preferring one to the other, produce either words or silence, I am atliberty to speak or hold my peace: and as far as this power reaches, ofacting or not acting, by the determination of his own thought preferringeither, so far is a man free. For how can we think any one freer, thanto have the power to do what he will? And so far as any one can, bypreferring any action to its not being, or rest to any action, producethat action or rest, so far can he do what he will. For such apreferring of action to its absence, is the willing of it: and we canscarce tell how to imagine any being freer, than to be able to do whathe wills. So that in respect of actions within the reach of such a powerin him, a man seems as free as it is possible for freedom to make him. 22. In respect of willing, a Man is not free. But the inquisitive mind of man, willing to shift off from himself, asfar as he can, all thoughts of guilt, though it be by putting himselfinto a worse state than that of fatal necessity, is not content withthis: freedom, unless it reaches further than this, will not serve theturn: and it passes for a good plea, that a man is not free at all, ifhe be not as FREE TO WILL as he is to ACT WHAT HE WILLS. Concerning aman's liberty, there yet, therefore, is raised this further question, WHETHER A MAN BE FREE TO WILL? which I think is what is meant, when itis disputed whether the will be free. And as to that I imagine. 23. How a man cannot be free to will. Secondly, That willing, or volition, being an action, and freedomconsisting in a power of acting or not acting, a man in respect ofwilling or the act of volition, when any action in his power is onceproposed to his thoughts, as presently to be done, cannot be free. Thereason whereof is very manifest. For, it being unavoidable that theaction depending on his will should exist or not exist, and itsexistence or not existence following perfectly the determination andpreference of his will, he cannot avoid willing the existence ornon-existence of that action; it is absolutely necessary that he willthe one or the other; i. E. Prefer the one to the other: since one ofthem must necessarily follow; and that which does follow follows by thechoice and determination of his mind; that is, by his willing it: for ifhe did not will it, it would not be. So that, in respect of the act ofwilling, a man is not free: liberty consisting in a power to act or notto act; which, in regard of volition, a man, has not. 24. Liberty is freedom to execute what is willed. This, then, is evident, That A MAN IS NOT AT LIBERTY TO WILL, OR NOTTO WILL, ANYTHING IN HIS POWER THAT HE ONCE CONSIDERS OF: libertyconsisting in a power to act or to forbear acting, and in that only. Fora man that sits still is said yet to be at liberty; because he can walkif he wills it. A man that walks is at liberty also, not because hewalks or moves; but because he can stand still if he wills it. But ifa man sitting still has not a power to remove himself, he is not atliberty; so likewise a man falling down a precipice, though in motion, is not at liberty, because he cannot stop that motion if he would. Thisbeing so, it is plain that a man that is walking, to whom it is proposedto give off walking, is not at liberty, whether he will determinehimself to walk, or give off walking or not: he must necessarily preferone or the other of them; walking or not walking. And so it is in regardof all other actions in our power they being once proposed, the mind hasnot a power to act or not to act, wherein consists liberty. The mind, in that case, has not a power to forbear WILLING; it cannot avoid somedetermination concerning them, let the consideration be as short, thethought as quick as it will, it either leaves the man in the state hewas before thinking, or changes it; continues the action, or puts anend to it. Whereby it is manifest, that IT orders and directs one, inpreference to, or with neglect of the other, and thereby either thecontinuation or change becomes UNAVOIDABLY voluntary. 25. The Will determined by something without it. Since then it is plain that, in most cases, a man is not at liberty, whether he will or no, (for, when an action in his power is proposed tohis thoughts, he CANNOT forbear volition; he MUST determine one way orthe other;) the next thing demanded is, --WHETHER A MAN BE AT LIBERTY TOWILL WHICH OF THE TWO HE PLEASES, MOTION OR REST? This question carriesthe absurdity of it so manifestly in itself, that one might therebysufficiently be convinced that liberty concerns not the will. For, toask whether a man be at liberty to will either motion or rest, speakingor silence, which he pleases, is to ask whether a man can will what hewills, or be pleased with what he is pleased with? A question which, I think, needs no answer: and they who can make a question of it mustsuppose one will to determine the acts of another, and another todetermine that, and so on in infinitum. 26. The ideas of LIBERTY and VOLITION must be defined. To avoid these and the like absurdities, nothing can be of greater usethan to establish in our minds determined ideas of the things underconsideration. If the ideas of liberty and volition were well fixed inour understandings, and carried along with us in our minds, as theyought, through all the questions that are raised about them, I suppose agreat part of the difficulties that perplex men's thoughts, and entangletheir understandings, would be much easier resolved; and we shouldperceive where the confused signification of terms, or where the natureof the thing caused the obscurity. 27. Freedom. First, then, it is carefully to be remembered, That freedom consists inthe dependence of the existence, or not existence of any ACTION, uponour VOLITION of it; and not in the dependence of any action, or itscontrary, on our PREFERENCE. A man standing on a cliff, is at liberty toleap twenty yards downwards into the sea, not because he has a power todo the contrary action, which is to leap twenty yards upwards, for thathe cannot do; but he is therefore free, because he has a power to leapor not to leap. But if a greater force than his, either holds him fast, or tumbles him down, he is no longer free in that case; because thedoing or forbearance of that particular action is no longer in hispower. He that is a close prisoner in a room twenty feet square, beingat the north side of his chamber, is at liberty to walk twenty feetsouthward, because he can walk or not walk it; but is not, at the sametime, at liberty to do the contrary, i. E. To walk twenty feet northward. In this, then, consists FREEDOM, viz. In our being able to act or not toact, according as we shall choose or will. 28. What Volition and action mean. Secondly, we must remember, that VOLITION or WILLING is an act of themind directing its thought to the production of any action, and therebyexerting its power to produce it. To avoid multiplying of words, I wouldcrave leave here, under the word ACTION, to comprehend the forbearancetoo of any action proposed: sitting still, or holding one's peace, whenwalking or speaking are proposed, though mere forbearances, requiring asmuch the determination of the will, and being as often weighty in theirconsequences, as the contrary actions, may, on that consideration, wellenough pass for actions too: but this I say, that I may not be mistaken, if (for brevity's sake) I speak thus. 29. What determines the Will. Thirdly, the will being nothing but a power in the mind to direct theoperative faculties of a man to motion or rest as far as they depend onsuch direction; to the question, What is it determines the will? thetrue and proper answer is, The mind. For that which determines thegeneral power of directing, to this or that particular direction, isnothing but the agent itself exercising the power it has that particularway. If this answer satisfies not, it is plain the meaning of thequestion, What determines the will? is this, --What moves the mind, inevery particular instance, to determine its general power of directing, to this or that particular motion or rest? And to this I answer, --Themotive for continuing in the same state or action, is only the presentsatisfaction in it; the motive to change is always some uneasiness:nothing setting us upon the change of state, or upon any new action, butsome uneasiness. This is the great motive that works on the mind to putit upon action, which for shortness' sake we will call determining ofthe will, which I shall more at large explain. 30. Will and Desire must not be confounded. But, in the way to it, it will be necessary to premise, that, thoughI have above endeavoured to express the act of volition, by CHOOSING, PREFERRING, and the like terms, that signify desire as well as volition, for want of other words to mark that act of the mind whose proper nameis WILLING or VOLITION; yet, it being a very simple act, whosoeverdesires to understand what it is, will better find it by reflecting onhis own mind, and observing what it does when it wills, than by anyvariety of articulate sounds whatsoever. This caution of being carefulnot to be misled by expressions that do not enough keep up thedifference between the WILL and several acts of the mind that are quitedistinct from it, I think the more necessary, because I find the willoften confounded with several of the affections, especially DESIRE, and one put for the other; and that by men who would not willingly bethought not to have had very distinct notions of things, and not tohave writ very clearly about them. This, I imagine, has been no smalloccasion of obscurity and mistake in this matter; and therefore is, as much as may be, to be avoided. For he that shall turn his thoughtsinwards upon what passes in his mind when he wills, shall see thatthe will or power of volition is conversant about nothing but our ownACTIONS; terminates there; and reaches no further; and that volition isnothing but that particular determination of the mind, whereby, barelyby a thought, the mind endeavours to give rise, continuation, or stop, to any action which it takes to be in its power. This, well considered, plainly shows that the will is perfectly distinguished from desire;which, in the very same action, may have a quite contrary tendency fromthat which our will sets us upon. A man, whom I cannot deny, may obligeme to use persuasions to another, which, at the same time I am speaking, I may wish may not prevail on him. In this case, it is plain the willand desire run counter. I will the action; that tends one way, whilst mydesire tends another, and that the direct contrary way. A man who, by aviolent fit of the gout in his limbs, finds a doziness in his head, or awant of appetite in his stomach removed, desires to be eased too ofthe pain of his feet or hands, (for wherever there is pain, there isa desire to be rid of it, ) though yet, whilst he apprehends that theremoval of the pain may translate the noxious humour to a more vitalpart, his will is never determined to any one action that may serve toremove this pain. Whence it is evident that desiring and willing are twodistinct acts of the mind; and consequently, that the will, which is butthe power of volition, is much more distinct from desire. 31. Uneasiness determines the Will. To return, then, to the inquiry, what is it that determines the willin regard to our actions? And that, upon second thoughts, I am apt toimagine is not, as is generally supposed, the greater good in view; butsome (and for the most part the most pressing) UNEASINESS a man is atpresent under. This is that which successively determines the will, andsets us upon those actions we perform. This uneasiness we may call, as it is, DESIRE; which is an uneasiness of the mind for want of someabsent good. All pain of the body, of what sort soever, and disquiet ofthe mind, is uneasiness: and with this is always joined desire, equal tothe pain or uneasiness felt; and is scarce distinguishable from it. Fordesire being nothing but an uneasiness in the want of an absent good, inreference to any pain felt, ease is that absent good; and till that easebe attained, we may call it desire; nobody feeling pain that he wishesnot to be eased of, with a desire equal to that pain, and inseparablefrom it. Besides this desire of ease from pain, there is another ofabsent positive good; and here also the desire and uneasiness are equal. As much as we desire any absent good, so much are we in pain for it. Buthere all absent good does not, according to the greatness it has, or isacknowledged to have, cause pain equal to that greatness; as all paincauses desire equal to itself: because the absence of good is not alwaysa pain, as the presence of pain is. And therefore absent good maybe looked on and considered without desire. But so much as there isanywhere of desire, so much there is of uneasiness. 32. Desire is Uneasiness. That desire is a state of uneasiness, every one who reflects on himselfwill quickly find. Who is there that has not felt in desire what thewise man says of hope, (which is not much different from it, ) that itbeing 'deferred makes the heart sick'; and that still proportionable tothe greatness of the desire, which sometimes raises the uneasiness tothat pitch, that it makes people cry out, 'Give me children, ' give methe thing desired, 'or I die. ' Life itself, and all its enjoyments, is aburden cannot be borne under the lasting and unremoved pressure of suchan uneasiness. 33. The Uneasiness of Desire determines the Will. Good and evil, present and absent, it is true, work upon the mind. Butthat which IMMEDIATELY determines the will from time to time, to everyvoluntary action, is the UNEASINESS OF DESIRE, fixed on some absentgood: either negative, as indolence to one in pain; or positive, asenjoyment of pleasure. That it is this uneasiness that determines thewill to the successive voluntary actions, whereof the greatest part ofour lives is made up, and by which we are conducted through differentcourses to different ends, I shall endeavour to show, both fromexperience, and the reason of the thing. 34. This is the Spring of Action. When a man is perfectly content with the state he is in--which is whenhe is perfectly without any uneasiness--what industry, what action, what will is there left, but to continue in it? Of this every man'sobservation will satisfy him. And thus we see our all-wise Maker, suitably to our constitution and frame, and knowing what it is thatdetermines the will, has put into man the uneasiness of hunger andthirst, and other natural desires, that return at their seasons, to moveand determine their wills, for the preservation of themselves, and thecontinuation of their species. For I think we may conclude, that, if theBARE CONTEMPLATION of these good ends to which we are carried by theseseveral uneasinesses had been sufficient to determine the will, and setus on work, we should have had none of these natural pains, and perhapsin this world little or no pain at all. 'It is better to marry than toburn, ' says St. Paul, where we may see what it is that chiefly drivesmen into the enjoyments of a conjugal life. A little burning felt pushesus more powerfully than greater pleasure in prospect draw or allure. 35. The greatest positive Good determines not the Will, but presentUneasiness alone. It seems so established and settled a maxim, by the general consent ofall mankind, that good, the greater good, determines the will, that Ido not at all wonder that, when I first published my thoughts on thissubject I took it for granted; and I imagine that, by a great many, Ishall be thought more excusable for having then done so, than that nowI have ventured to recede from so received an opinion. But yet, upon astricter inquiry, I am forced to conclude that GOOD, the GREATER GOOD, though apprehended and acknowledged to be so, does not determine thewill, until our desire, raised proportionably to it, makes us uneasyin the want of it. Convince a man never so much, that plenty has itsadvantages over poverty; make him see and own, that the handsomeconveniences of life are better than nasty penury: yet, as long as he iscontent with the latter, and finds no uneasiness in it, he moves not;his will never is determined to any action that shall bring him out ofit. Let a man be ever so well persuaded of the advantages of virtue, that it is as necessary to a man who has any great aims in this world, or hopes in the next, as food to life: yet, till he hungers or thirstsafter righteousness, till he FEELS AN UNEASINESS in the want of it, hisWILL will not be determined to any action in pursuit of this confessedgreater good; but any other uneasiness he feels in himself shall takeplace, and carry his will to other actions. On the other side, let adrunkard see that his health decays, his estate wastes; discredit anddiseases, and the want of all things, even of his beloved drink, attendshim in the course he follows: yet the returns of uneasiness to miss hiscompanions, the habitual thirst after his cups at the usual time, driveshim to the tavern, though he has in his view the loss of health andplenty, and perhaps of the joys of another life: the least of which isno inconsiderable good, but such as he confesses is far greater thanthe tickling of his palate with a glass of wine, or the idle chat of asoaking club. It is not want of viewing the greater good: for he seesand acknowledges it, and, in the intervals of his drinking hours, willtake resolutions to pursue the greater good; but when the uneasiness tomiss his accustomed delight returns, the greater acknowledged goodloses its hold, and the present uneasiness determines the will to theaccustomed action; which thereby gets stronger footing to prevailagainst the next occasion, though he at the same time makes secretpromises to himself that he will do so no more; this is the last time hewill act against the attainment of those greater goods. And thus heis, from time to time, in the state of that unhappy complainer, Videomeliora, proboque, deteriora sequor: which sentence, allowed for true, and made good by constant experience, may in this, and possibly no otherway, be easily made intelligible. 36. Because the Removal of Uneasiness is the first Step to Happiness. If we inquire into the reason of what experience makes so evident infact, and examine, why it is uneasiness alone operates on the will, anddetermines it in its choice, we shall find that, we being capable butof one determination of the will to one action at once, the presentuneasiness that we are under does NATURALLY determine the will, in orderto that happiness which we all aim at in all our actions. For, as muchas whilst we are under any uneasiness, we cannot apprehend ourselveshappy, or in the way to it; pain and uneasiness being, by every one, concluded and felt to be inconsistent with happiness, spoiling therelish even of those good things which we have: a little pain servingto mar all the pleasure we rejoiced in. And, therefore, that which ofcourse determines the choice of our will to the next action will alwaysbe--the removing of pain, as long as we have any left, as the first andnecessary step towards happiness. 37. Because Uneasiness alone is present. Another reason why it is uneasiness alone determines the will, is this:because that alone is present and, it is against the nature of things, that what is absent should operate where it is not. It may be said thatabsent good may, by contemplation, be brought home to the mind and madepresent. The idea of it indeed may be in the mind and viewed as presentthere; but nothing will be in the mind as a present good, able tocounterbalance the removal of any uneasiness which we are under, tillit raises our desire; and the uneasiness of that has the prevalency indetermining the will. Till then, the idea in the mind of whatever isgood is there only, like other ideas, the object of bare unactivespeculation; but operates not on the will, nor sets us on work; thereason whereof I shall show by and by. How many are to be foundthat have had lively representations set before their minds of theunspeakable joys of heaven, which they acknowledge both possible andprobable too, who yet would be content to take up with their happinesshere? And so the prevailing uneasiness of their desires, let loose afterthe enjoyments of this life, take their turns in the determining theirwills; and all that while they take not one step, are not one jot moved, towards the good things of another life, considered as ever so great. 38. Because all who allow the Joys of Heaven possible, purse them not. Were the will determined by the views of good, as it appears incontemplation greater or less to the understanding, which is the stateof all absent good, and that which, in the received opinion, the will issupposed to move to, and to be moved by, --I do not see how it could everget loose from the infinite eternal joys of heaven, once proposed andconsidered as possible. For, all absent good, by which alone, barelyproposed, and coming in view, the will is thought to be determined, andso to set us on action, being only possible, but not infallibly certain, it is unavoidable that the infinitely greater possible good shouldregularly and constantly determine the will in all the successiveactions it directs; and then we should keep constantly and steadily inour course towards heaven, without ever standing still, or directingour actions to any other end: the eternal condition of a future stateinfinitely outweighing the expectation of riches, or honour, or anyother worldly pleasure which we can propose to ourselves, though weshould grant these the more probable to be obtained: for nothing futureis yet in possession, and so the expectation even of these may deceiveus. If it were so that the greater good in view determines the will, sogreat a good, once proposed, could not but seize the will, and holdit fast to the pursuit of this infinitely greatest good, without everletting it go again: for the will having a power over, and directingthe thoughts, as well as other actions, would, if it were so, hold thecontemplation of the mind fixed to that good. 39. But any great Uneasiness is never neglected. This would be the state of the mind, and regular tendency of the will inall its determinations, were it determined by that which is consideredand in view the greater good. But that it is not so, is visiblein experience; the infinitely greatest confessed good being oftenneglected, to satisfy the successive uneasiness of our desires pursuingtrifles. But, though the greatest allowed, even everlasting unspeakable, good, which has sometimes moved and affected the mind, does notstedfastly hold the will, yet we see any very great and prevailinguneasiness having once laid hold on the will, let it not go; by which wemay be convinced, what it is that determines the will. Thus any vehementpain of the body; the ungovernable passion of a man violently in love;or the impatient desire of revenge, keeps the will steady and intent;and the will, thus determined, never lets the understanding lay by theobject, but all the thoughts of the mind and powers of the body areuninterruptedly employed that way, by the determination of the will, influenced by that topping uneasiness, as long as it lasts; whereby itseems to me evident, that the will, or power of setting us upon oneaction in preference to all others, is determined in us by uneasiness:and whether this be not so, I desire every one to observe in himself. 40. Desire accompanies all Uneasiness. I have hitherto chiefly instanced in the UNEASINESS of desire, as thatwhich determines the will: because that is the chief and most sensible;and the will seldom orders any action, nor is there any voluntary actionperformed, without some desire accompanying it; which I think is thereason why the will and desire are so often confounded. But yet we arenot to look upon the uneasiness which makes up, or at least accompanies, most of the other passions, as wholly excluded in the case. Aversion, fear, anger, envy, shame, &c. Have each their uneasinesses too, andthereby influence the will. These passions are scarce any of them, inlife and practice, simple and alone, and wholly unmixed with others;though usually, in discourse and contemplation, that carries the namewhich operates strongest, and appears most in the present state of themind. Nay, there is, I think, scarce any of the passions to be foundwithout desire joined with it. I am sure wherever there is uneasiness, there is desire. For we constantly desire happiness; and whatever wefeel of uneasiness, so much it is certain we want of happiness; even inour own opinion, let our state and condition otherwise be what itwill. Besides, the present moment not being our eternity, whatever ourenjoyment be, we look beyond the present, and desire goes with ourforesight, and that still carries the will with it. So that even in joyitself, that which keeps up the action whereon the enjoyment depends, isthe desire to continue it, and fear to lose it: and whenever a greateruneasiness than that takes place in the mind, the will presently is bythat determined to some new action, and the present delight neglected. 41. The most pressing Uneasiness naturally determines the Will. But we being in this world beset with sundry uneasinesses, distractedwith different desires, the next inquiry naturally will be, --Which ofthem has the precedency in determining the will to the next action? andto that the answer is, --That ordinarily which is the most pressing ofthose that are judged capable of being then removed. For, the will beingthe power of directing our operative faculties to some action, for someend, cannot at any time be moved towards what is judged at that timeunattainable: that would be to suppose an intelligent being designedlyto act for an end, only to lose its labour; for so it is to act for whatis judged not attainable; and therefore very great uneasinesses move notthe will, when they are judged not capable of a cure: they in that caseput us not upon endeavours. But, these set apart the most importantand urgent uneasiness we at that time feel, is that which ordinarilydetermines the will, successively, in that train of voluntary actionswhich makes up our lives. The greatest present uneasiness is the spur toaction, that is constantly most felt, and for the most part determinesthe will in its choice of the next action. For this we must carry alongwith us, that the proper and only object of the will is some action ofours, and nothing else. For we producing nothing by our willing it, butsome action in our power, it is there the will terminates, and reachesno further. 42. All desire Happiness. If it be further asked, --What it is moves desire? I answer, --happiness, and that alone. Happiness and misery are the names of two extremes, theutmost bounds whereof we know not; it is what be in itself good; andwhat is apt to produce any degree of pain be evil; yet it often happensthat we do not call it so when it comes in competition with a greater ofits sort; because, when they come in competition, the degrees also ofpleasure and pain have justly a preference. So that if we will rightlyestimate what we call good and evil, we shall find it lies much incomparison: for the cause of every less degree of pain, as well as everygreater degree of pleasure, has the nature of good, and vice versa. 43. [* missing] 44. What Good is desired, what not. Though this be that which is called good and evil, and all good bethe proper object of desire in general; yet all good, even seen andconfessed to be so, does not necessarily move every particular man'sdesire; but only that part, or so much of it as is considered and takento make a necessary part of HIS happiness. All other good, however greatin reality or appearance, excites not a man's desires who looks noton it to make a part of that happiness wherewith he, in his presentthoughts, can satisfy himself. Happiness, under this view, every oneconstantly pursues, and desires what makes any part of it: other things, acknowledged to be good, he can look upon without desire, pass by, andbe content without. There is nobody, I think, so senseless as to denythat there is pleasure in knowledge: and for the pleasures of sense, they have too many followers to let it be questioned whether men aretaken with them or no. Now, let one man place his satisfaction insensual pleasures, another in the delight of knowledge: though eachof them cannot but confess, there is great pleasure in what the otherpursues; yet, neither of them making the other's delight a part of HIShappiness, their desires are not moved, but each is satisfied withoutwhat the other enjoys; and so his will is not determined to the pursuitof it. But yet, as soon as the studious man's hunger and thirst makehim uneasy, he, whose will was never determined to any pursuit of goodcheer, poignant sauces, delicious wine, by the pleasant taste he hasfound in them, is, by the uneasiness of hunger and thirst, presentlydetermined to eating and drinking, though possibly with greatindifferency, what wholesome food comes in his way. And, on the otherside, the epicure buckles to study, when shame, or the desire torecommend himself to his mistress, shall make him uneasy in the wantof any sort of knowledge. Thus, how much soever men are in earnest andconstant in pursuit of happiness, yet they may have a clear view ofgood, great and confessed good, without being concerned for it, or movedby it, if they think they can make up their happiness without it. Though as to pain, THAT they are always concerned for; they can feel nouneasiness without being moved. And therefore, being uneasy in the wantof whatever is judged necessary to their happiness, as soon as any goodappears to make a part of their portion of happiness, they begin todesire it. 45. Why the greatest Good is not always desired. ` This, I think, any one may observe in himself and others, --That thegreater visible good does not always raise men's desires in proportionto the greatness it appears, and is acknowledged, to have: though everylittle trouble moves us, and sets us on work to get rid of it. Thereason whereof is evident from the nature of our happiness and miseryitself. All present pain, whatever it be, makes a part of our presentmisery: but all absent good does not at any time make a necessary partof our present happiness, nor the absence of it make a part of ourmisery. If it did, we should be constantly and infinitely miserable;there being infinite degrees of happiness which are not in ourpossession. All uneasiness therefore being removed, a moderate portionof good serve at present to content men; and a few degrees of pleasurein a succession of ordinary enjoyments, make up a happiness wherein theycan be satisfied. If this were not so, there could be no room for thoseindifferent and visibly trifling actions, to which our wills are sooften determined, and wherein we voluntarily waste so much of our lives;which remissness could by no means consist with a constant determinationof will or desire to the greatest apparent good. That this is so, Ithink few people need go far from home to be convinced. And indeed inthis life there are not many whose happiness reaches so far as to affordthem a constant train of moderate mean pleasures, without any mixture ofuneasiness; and yet they could be content to stay here for ever: thoughthey cannot deny, but that it is possible there may be a state ofeternal durable joys after this life, far surpassing all the good thatis to be found here. Nay, they cannot but see that it is more possiblethan the attainment and continuation of that pittance of honour, riches, or pleasure which they pursue, and for which they neglect that eternalstate. But yet, in full view of this difference, satisfied of thepossibility of a perfect, secure, and lasting happiness in a futurestate, and under a clear conviction that it is not to be hadhere, --whilst they bound their happiness within some little enjoymentor aim of this life, and exclude the joys of heaven from making anynecessary part of it, --their desires are not moved by this greaterapparent good, nor their wills determined to any action, or endeavourfor its attainment. 46. Why not being desired, it moves not the Will. The ordinary necessities of our lives fill a great part of them with theuneasinesses of hunger, thirst, heat, cold, weariness, with labour, and sleepiness, in their constant returns, &c. To which, if, besidesaccidental harms, we add the fantastical uneasiness (as itch afterhonour, power, or riches, &c. ) which acquired habits, by fashion, example, and education, have settled in us, and a thousand otherirregular desires, which custom has made natural to us, we shallfind that a very little part of our life is so vacant from THESEuneasinesses, as to leave us free to the attraction of remoter absentgood. We are seldom at ease, and free enough from the solicitationof our natural or adopted desires, but a constant succession ofuneasinesses out of that stock which natural wants or acquired habitshave heaped up, take the will in their turns; and no sooner is oneaction dispatched, which by such a determination of the will we areset upon, but another uneasiness is ready to set us on work. For, theremoving of the pains we feel, and are at present pressed with, beingthe getting out of misery, and consequently the first thing to be donein order to happiness, --absent good, though thought on, confessed, andappearing to be good, not making any part of this unhappiness inits absence, is justled out, to make way for the removal of thoseuneasinesses we feel; till due and repeated contemplation has broughtit nearer to our mind, given some relish of it, and raised in us somedesire: which then beginning to make a part of our present uneasiness, stands upon fair terms with the rest to be satisfied, and so, accordingto its greatness and pressure, comes in its turn to determine the will. 47. Due Consideration raises Desire. And thus, by a due consideration, and examining any good proposed, it isin our power to raise our desires in a due proportion to the value ofthat good, whereby in its turn and place it may come to work upon thewill, and be pursued. For good, though appearing and allowed ever sogreat, yet till it has raised desires in our minds, and thereby madeus uneasy in its want, it reaches not our wills; we are not within thesphere of its activity, our wills being under the determination only ofthose uneasinesses which are present to us, which (whilst we have any)are always soliciting, and ready at hand, to give the will its nextdetermination. The balancing, when there is any in the mind, being only, which desire shall be next satisfied, which uneasiness first removed. Whereby it comes to pass that, as long as any uneasiness, any desire, remains in our mind, there is no room for good, barely as such, to comeat the will, or at all to determine it. Because, as has been said, theFIRST step in our endeavours after happiness being to get wholly out ofthe confines of misery, and to feel no part of it, the will can be atleisure for nothing else, till every uneasiness we feel be perfectlyremoved: which, in the multitude of wants and desires we are beset within this imperfect state, we are not like to be ever freed from in thisworld. 48. The Power to suspend the Prosecution of any Desire makes way forconsideration. There being in us a great many uneasinesses, always soliciting and readyto determine the will, it is natural, as I have said, that the greatestand most pressing should determine the will to the next action; and soit does for the most part, but not always. For, the mind having in mostcases, as is evident in experience, a power to SUSPEND the execution andsatisfaction of any of its desires; and so all, one after another; is atliberty to consider the objects of them, examine them on all sides, andweigh them with others. In this lies the liberty man has; and from thenot using of it right comes all that variety of mistakes, errors, andfaults which we run into in the conduct of our lives, and our endeavoursafter happiness; whilst we precipitate the determination of our wills, and engage too soon, before due examination. To prevent this, we have apower to suspend the prosecution of this or that desire; as every onedaily may experiment in himself. This seems to me the source of allliberty; in this seems to consist that which is (as I think improperly)called FREE-WILL. For, during this suspension of any desire, beforethe will be determined to action, and the action (which follows thatdetermination) done, we have opportunity to examine, view, and judgeof the good or evil of what we are going to do; and when, upon dueexamination, we have judged, we have done our duty, all that we can, orought to do, in pursuit of our happiness; and it is not a fault, but aperfection of our nature, to desire, will, and act according to the lastresult of a fair examination. 49. To be determined by our own Judgment, is no Restraint to Liberty. This is so far from being a restraint or diminution of freedom, that itis the very improvement and benefit of it; it is not an abridgment, itis the end and use of our liberty; and the further we are removed fromsuch a determination, the nearer we are to misery and slavery. A perfectindifference in the mind, not determinable by its last judgment of thegood or evil that is thought to attend its choice, would be so far frombeing an advantage and excellency of any intellectual nature, that itwould be as great an imperfection, as the want of indifferency to act, or not to act, till determined by the will, would be an imperfection onthe other side. A man is at liberty to lift up his hand to his head, orlet it rest quiet: he is perfectly indifferent in either; and it wouldbe an imperfection in him, if he wanted that power, if he were deprivedof that indifferency. But it would be as great an imperfection, if hehad the same indifferency, whether he would prefer the lifting up hishand, or its remaining in rest, when it would save his head or eyes froma blow he sees coming: it is as much a perfection, that desire, or thepower of preferring, should be determined by good, as that the powerof acting should be determined by the will; and the certainer suchdetermination is, the greater is the perfection. Nay, were we determinedby anything but the last result of our own minds, judging of the goodor evil of any action, we were not free. 50. The freest Agents are so determined. If we look upon those superior beings above us, who enjoy perfecthappiness, we shall have reason to judge that they are more steadilydetermined in their choice of good than we; and yet we have no reason tothink they are less happy, or less free, than we are. And if it werefit for such poor finite creatures as we are to pronounce what infinitewisdom and goodness could do, I think we might say, that God himselfCANNOT choose what is not good; the freedom of the Almighty hinders nothis being determined by what is best. 51. A constant Determination to a Pursuit of Happiness no Abridgment ofLiberty. But to give a right view of this mistaken part of liberty let meask, --Would any one be a changeling, because he is less determined bywise considerations than a wise man? Is it worth the name of freedom tobe at liberty to play the fool, and draw shame and misery upon a man'sself? If to break loose from the conduct of reason, and to want thatrestraint of examination and judgment which keeps us from choosing ordoing the worse, be liberty, true liberty, madmen and fools are the onlyfreemen: but yet, I think, nobody would choose to be mad for the sakeof such liberty, but he that is mad already. The constant desire ofhappiness, and the constraint it puts upon us to act for it, nobody, Ithink, accounts an abridgment of liberty, or at least an abridgment ofliberty to be complained of. God Almighty himself is under the necessityof being happy; and the more any intelligent being is so, the nearer isits approach to infinite perfection and happiness. That, in thisstate of ignorance, we short-sighted creatures might not mistake truefelicity, we are endowed with a power to suspend any particular desire, and keep it from determining the will, and engaging us in action. Thisis standing still, where we are not sufficiently assured of the way:examination is consulting a guide. The determination of the will uponinquiry, is following the direction of that guide: and he that has apower to act or not to act, according as SUCH determination directs, isa free agent: such determination abridges not that power wherein libertyconsists. He that has his chains knocked off, and the prison doors setopen to him, is perfectly at liberty, because he may either go or stay, as he best likes, though his preference be determined to stay, by thedarkness of the night, or illness of the weather, or want of otherlodging. He ceases not to be free; though the desire of some convenienceto be had there absolutely determines his preference, and makes him stayin his prison. 52. The Necessity of pursuing true Happiness the Foundation of Liberty. As therefore the highest perfection of intellectual nature lies in acareful and constant pursuit of true and solid happiness; so the careof ourselves, that we mistake not imaginary for real happiness, is thenecessary foundation of our liberty. The stronger ties we have to anunalterable pursuit of happiness in general, which is our greatest good, and which as such, our desires always follow, the more are we free fromany necessary determination of our will to any particular action, andfrom a necessary compliance with our desire, so upon any particular, andthen appearing preferable good, till we have duly examined whether ithas a tendency to, or be inconsistent with, our real happiness: andtherefore, till we are as much informed upon this inquiry as the weightof the matter, and the nature of the case demands, we are, by thenecessity of preferring and pursuing true happiness as our greatestgood, obliged to suspend the satisfaction of our desires in particularcases. 53. Power to Suspend. This is the hinge on which turns the LIBERTY of intellectual beings, in their constant endeavours after, and a steady prosecution of truefelicity, --That they CAN SUSPEND this prosecution in particular cases, till they have looked before them, and informed themselves whether thatparticular thing which is then proposed or desired lie in the way totheir main end, and make a real part of that which is their greatestgood. For, the inclination and tendency of their nature to happiness isan obligation and motive to them, to take care not to mistake or missit; and so necessarily puts them upon caution, deliberation, andwariness, in the direction of their particular actions, which are themeans to obtain it. Whatever necessity determines to the pursuit of realbliss, the same necessity, with the same force, establishes suspense, deliberation, and scrutiny of each successive desire, whether thesatisfaction of it does not interfere with our true happiness, andmislead us from it. This, as seems to me, is the great privilege offinite intellectual beings; and I desire it may be well considered, whether the great inlet and exercise of all the liberty men have, arecapable of, or can be useful to them, and that whereon depends the turnof their actions, does not lie in this, --That they can suspend theirdesires, and stop them from determining their wills to any action, tillthey have duly and fairly examined the good and evil of it, as far forthas the weight of the thing requires. This we are able to do; and when wehave done it, we have done our duty, and all that is in our power; andindeed all that needs. For, since the will supposes knowledge to guideits choice, all that we can do is to hold our wills undetermined, tillwe have examined the good and evil of what we desire. What follows afterthat, follows in a chain of consequences, linked one to another, alldepending on the last determination of the judgment, which, whether itshall be upon a hasty and precipitate view, or upon a due and matureexamination, is in our power; experience showing us, that in most cases, we are able to suspend the present satisfaction of any desire. 54. Government of our Passions the right Improvement of Liberty. But if any extreme disturbance (as sometimes it happens) possesses ourwhole mind, as when the pain of the rack, an impetuous uneasiness, as oflove, anger, or any other violent passion, running away with us, allowsus not the liberty of thought, and we are not masters enough of our ownminds to consider thoroughly and examine fairly;--God, who knows ourfrailty, pities our weakness, and requires of us no more than we areable to do, and sees what was and what was not in our power, will judgeas a kind and merciful Father. But the forbearance of a too hastycompliance with our desires, the moderation and restraint of ourpassions, so that our understandings may be free to examine, and reasonunbiassed, give its judgment, being that whereon a right direction ofour conduct to true happiness depends; it is in this we should employour chief care and endeavours. In this we should take pains to suit therelish of our minds to the true intrinsic good or ill that is in things;and not permit an allowed or supposed possible great and weighty goodto slip out of our thoughts, without leaving any relish, any desire ofitself there till, by a due consideration of its true worth, we haveformed appetites in our minds suitable to it, and made ourselves uneasyin the want of it, or in the fear of losing it. And how much this isin every one's power, by making resolutions to himself, such as he maykeep, is easy for every one to try. Nor let any one say, he cannotgovern his passions, nor hinder them from breaking out, and carrying himinto action; for what he can do before a prince or a great man, he cando alone, or in the presence of God, if he will. 55. How Men come to pursue different, and often evil Courses. From what has been said, it is easy to give an account how it comes topass, that, though all men desire happiness, yet their wills carry themso contrarily; and consequently, some of them to what is evil. And tothis I say, that the various and contrary choices that men make in theworld do not argue that they do not all pursue good; but that the samething is not good to every man alike. This variety of pursuits shows, that every one does not place his happiness in the same thing, or choosethe same way to it. Were all the concerns of man terminated in thislife, why one followed study and knowledge, and another hawking andhunting: why one chose luxury and debauchery, and another sobriety andriches, would not be because every one of these did NOT aim at his ownhappiness; but because their happiness was placed in different things. And therefore it was a right answer of the physician to his patient thathad sore eyes:--If you have more pleasure in the taste of wine thanin the use of your sight, wine is good for you; but if the pleasure ofseeing be greater to you than that of drinking, wine is naught. 56. All men seek happiness, but not of the same sort. The mind has a different relish, as well as the palate; and you will asfruitlessly endeavour to delight all men with riches or glory (which yetsome men place their happiness in) as you would to satisfy all men'shunger with cheese or lobsters; which, though very agreeable anddelicious fare to some, are to others extremely nauseous and offensive:and many persons would with reason prefer the griping of an hungry bellyto those dishes which are a feast to others. Hence it was, I think, that the philosophers of old did in vain inquire, whether summum bonumconsisted in riches, or bodily delights, or virtue, or contemplation:and they might have as reasonably disputed, whether the best relish wereto be found in apples, plums, or nuts, and have divided themselvesinto sects upon it. For, as pleasant tastes depend not on the thingsthemselves, but on their agreeableness to this or that particularpalate, wherein there is great variety; so the greatest happinessconsists in the having those things which produce the greatest pleasure, and in the absence of those which cause any disturbance, any pain. Nowthese, to different men, are very different things. If, therefore, menin this life only have hope; if in this life only they can enjoy, it isnot strange nor unreasonable, that they should seek their happiness byavoiding all things that disease them here, and by pursuing allthat delight them; wherein it will be no wonder to find variety anddifference. For if there be no prospect beyond the grave, the inferenceis certainly right--'Let us eat and drink, ' let us enjoy what wedelight in, 'for to-morrow we shall die. ' This, I think, may serve toshow us the reason, why, though all men's desires tend to happiness, yetthey are not moved by the same object. Men may choose different things, and yet all choose right; supposing them only like a company of poorinsects; whereof some are bees, delighted with flowers and theirsweetness; others beetles, delighted with other kinds of viands, whichhaving enjoyed for a season, they would cease to be, and exist no morefor ever. 57. [not in early editions] 58. Why men choose what makes them miserable. What has been said may also discover to us the reason why men in thisworld prefer different things, and pursue happiness by contrary courses. But yet, since men are always constant and in earnest in matters ofhappiness and misery, the question still remains, How men come often toprefer the worse to the better; and to choose that, which, by their ownconfession, has made them miserable? 59. The causes of this. To account for the various and contrary ways men take, though all aimat being happy, we must consider whence the VARIOUS UNEASINESSES thatdetermine the will, in the preference of each voluntary action, havetheir rise:-- 1. From bodily pain. Some of them come from causes not in our power; such as are often thepains of the body from want, disease, or outward injuries, as therack, etc. ; which, when present and violent, operate for the most partforcibly on the will, and turn the courses of men's lives from virtue, piety, and religion, and what before they judged to lead to happiness;every one not endeavouring, or not being able, by the contemplationof remote and future good, to raise in himself desires of them strongenough to counterbalance the uneasiness he feels in those bodilytorments, and to keep his will steady in the choice of those actionswhich lead to future happiness. A neighbouring country has been of latea tragical theatre from which we might fetch instances, if there neededany, and the world did not in all countries and ages furnish examplesenough to confirm that received observation: NECESSITAS COGIT AD TURPIA;and therefore there is great reason for us to pray, 'Lead us not intotemptation. ' 2. From wrong Desires arising from wrong Judgments. Other uneasinesses arise from our desires of absent good; which desiresalways bear proportion to, and depend on, the judgment we make, andthe relish we have of any absent good; in both which we are apt to bevariously misled, and that by our own fault. 60. Our judgment of present Good or Evil always right. In the first place, I shall consider the wrong judgments men make ofFUTURE good and evil, whereby their desires are misled. For, as toPRESENT happiness and misery, when that alone comes into consideration, and the consequences are quite removed, a man never chooses amiss: heknows what best pleases him, and that he actually prefers. Things intheir present enjoyment are what they seem: the apparent and real goodare, in this case, always the same. For the pain or pleasure being justso great and no greater than it is felt, the present good or evil isreally so much as it appears. And therefore were every action of oursconcluded within itself, and drew no consequences after it, we shouldundoubtedly never err in our choice of good: we should always infalliblyprefer the best. Were the pains of honest industry, and of starving withhunger and cold set together before us, nobody would be in doubt whichto choose: were the satisfaction of a lust and the joys of heavenoffered at once to any one's present possession, he would not balance, or err in the determination of his choice. 61. Our wrong judgments have regard to future good and evil only. But since our voluntary actions carry not all the happiness and miserythat depend on them along with them in their present performance, butare the precedent causes of good and evil, which they draw after them, and bring upon us, when they themselves are past and cease to be; ourdesires look beyond our present enjoyments, and carry the mind out toABSENT GOOD, according to the necessity which we think there is of it, to the making or increase of our happiness. It is our opinion of such anecessity that gives it its attraction: without that, we are not movedby absent good. For, in this narrow scantling of capacity which we areaccustomed to and sensible of here, wherein we enjoy but one pleasureat once, which, when all uneasiness is away, is, whilst it lasts, sufficient to make us think ourselves happy, it is not all remote andeven apparent good that affects us. Because the indolency and enjoymentwe have, sufficing for our present happiness, we desire not to venturethe change; since we judge that we are happy already, being content, and that is enough. For who is content is happy. But as soon as any newuneasiness comes in, this happiness is disturbed, and we are set afreshon work in the pursuit of happiness. 62. From a wrong Judgment of what makes a necessary Part of theirHappiness. Their aptness therefore to conclude that they can be happy without it, is one great occasion that men often are not raised to the desire of thegreatest ABSENT good. For, whilst such thoughts possess them, the joysof a future state move them not; they have little concern or uneasinessabout them; and the will, free from the determination of such desires, is left to the pursuit of nearer satisfactions, and to the removal ofthose uneasinesses which it then feels, in its want of any longingsafter them. Change but a man's view of these things; let him see thatvirtue and religion are necessary to his happiness; let him look intothe future state of bliss or misery, and see there God, the righteousJudge, ready to 'render to every man according to his deeds; to them whoby patient continuance in well-doing seek for glory, and honour, and immortality, eternal life; but unto every soul that doth evil, indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish. ' To him, I say, who hatha prospect of the different state of perfect happiness or misery thatattends all men after this life, depending on their behaviour here, themeasures of good and evil that govern his choice are mightily changed. For, since nothing of pleasure and pain in this life can bear anyproportion to the endless happiness or exquisite misery of an immortalsoul hereafter, actions in his power will have their preference, notaccording to the transient pleasure or pain that accompanies or followsthem here, but as they serve to secure that perfect durable happinesshereafter. 63. A more particular Account of wrong Judgments. But, to account more particularly for the misery that men often bringon themselves, notwithstanding that they do all in earnest pursuehappiness, we must consider how things come to be represented to ourdesires under deceitful appearances: and that is by the judgmentpronouncing wrongly concerning them. To see how far this reaches, andwhat are the causes of wrong judgment, we must remember that things arejudged good or bad in a double sense:-- First, THAT WHICH IS PROPERLY GOOD OR BAD, IS NOTHING BUT BARELYPLEASURE OR PAIN. Secondly, But because not only present pleasure and pain, but that alsowhich is apt by its efficacy or consequences to bring it upon us at adistance, is a proper object of our desires, and apt to move a creaturethat has foresight; therefore THINGS ALSO THAT DRAW AFTER THEM PLEASUREAND PAIN, ARE CONSIDERED AS GOOD AND EVIL. 64. No one chooses misery willingly, but only by wrong judgment. The wrong judgment that misleads us, and makes the will often fasten onthe worse side, lies in misreporting upon the various comparisons ofthese. The wrong judgment I am here speaking of is not what one man maythink of the determination of another, but what every man himself mustconfess to be wrong. For, since I lay it for a certain ground, thatevery intelligent being really seeks happiness, which consists in theenjoyment of pleasure, without any considerable mixture of uneasiness;it is impossible any one should willingly put into his own draught anybitter ingredient, or leave out anything in his power that would tendto his satisfaction, and the completing of his happiness, but only bya WRONG JUDGMENT. I shall not here speak of that mistake which is theconsequence of INVINCIBLE error, which scarce deserves the name ofwrong judgment; but of that wrong judgment which every man himself mustconfess to be so. 65. Men may err on comparing Present and Future. (I) Therefore, as to present pleasure and pain, the mind, as has beensaid, never mistakes that which is really good or evil; that which isthe greater pleasure, or the greater pain, is really just as it appears. But, though present pleasure and pain show their difference and degreesso plainly as not to leave room to mistake; yet, WHEN WE COMPARE PRESENTPLEASURE OR PAIN WITH FUTURE, (which is usually the case in mostimportant determinations of the will, ) we often make wrong judgments ofthem; taking our measures of them in different positions of distance. Objects near our view are apt to be thought greater than those of alarger size that are more remote. And so it is with pleasures andpains: the present is apt to carry it; and those at a distance have thedisadvantage in the comparison. Thus most men, like spendthrift heirs, are apt to judge a little in hand better than a great deal to come;and so, for small matters in possession, part with greater ones inreversion. But that this is a wrong judgment every one must allow, lethis pleasure consist in whatever it will: since that which is futurewill certainly come to be present; and then, having the same advantageof nearness, will show itself in its full dimensions, and discover hiswilful mistake who judged of it by unequal measures. Were the pleasureof drinking accompanied, the very moment a man takes off his glass, withthat sick stomach and aching head which, in some men, are sure to follownot many hours after, I think nobody, whatever pleasure he had in hiscups, would, on these conditions, ever let wine touch his lips; whichyet he daily swallows, and the evil side comes to be chosen only by thefallacy of a little difference in time. But, if pleasure or pain can beso lessened only by a few hours' removal, how much more will it be so bya further distance to a man that will not, by a right judgment, do whattime will, i. E. Bring it home upon himself, and consider it as present, and there take its true dimensions? This is the way we usually impose onourselves, in respect of bare pleasure and pain, or the true degrees ofhappiness or misery: the future loses its just proportion, and what ispresent obtains the preference as the greater. I mention not here thewrong judgment, whereby the absent are not only lessened, but reduced toperfect nothing; when men enjoy what they can in present, and make sureof that, concluding amiss that no evil will thence follow. For that liesnot in comparing the greatness of future good and evil, which is that weare here speaking of; but in another sort of wrong judgment, whichis concerning good or evil, as it is considered to be the cause andprocurement of pleasure or pain that will follow from it. 66. Causes of our judging amiss when we compare present pleasure andpain with future. The cause of our judging amiss, when we compare our present pleasure orpain with future, seems to me to be THE WEAK AND NARROW CONSTITUTION OFOUR MINDS. We cannot well enjoy two pleasures at once; much less anypleasure almost, whilst pain possesses us. The present pleasure, if itbe not very languid, and almost none at all, fills our narrow souls, andso takes up the whole mind that it scarce leaves any thought of thingsabsent: or if among our pleasures there are some which are not strongenough to exclude the consideration of things at a distance, yet we haveso great an abhorrence of pain, that a little of it extinguishes all ourpleasures. A little bitter mingled in our cup, leaves no relish of thesweet. Hence it comes that, at any rate, we desire to be rid of thepresent evil, which we are apt to think nothing absent can equal;because, under the present pain, we find not ourselves capable of anythe least degree of happiness. Men's daily complaints are a loud proofof this: the pain that any one actually feels is still of all other theworst; and it is with anguish they cry out, --'Any rather than this:nothing can be so intolerable as what I now suffer. ' And therefore ourwhole endeavours and thoughts are intent to get rid of the present evil, before all things, as the first necessary condition to our happiness;let what will follow. Nothing, as we passionately think, can exceed, oralmost equal, the uneasiness that sits so heavy upon us. And because theabstinence from a present pleasure that offers itself is a pain, nay, oftentimes a very great one, the desire being inflamed by a near andtempting object, it is no wonder that that operates after the samemanner pain does, and lessens in our thoughts what is future; and soforces us, as it were blindfold, into its embraces. 67. Absent good unable to counterbalance present uneasiness. Add to this, that absent good, or, which is the same thing, futurepleasure, --especially if of a sort we are unacquainted with, --seldom isable to counterbalance any uneasiness, either of pain or desire, whichis present. For, its greatness being no more than what shall be reallytasted when enjoyed, men are apt enough to lessen that; to make it giveplace to any present desire; and conclude with themselves that, when itcomes to trial, it may possibly not answer the report or opinion thatgenerally passes of it: they having often found that, not only whatothers have magnified, but even what they themselves have enjoyed withgreat pleasure and delight at one time, has proved insipid or nauseousat another; and therefore they see nothing in it for which they shouldforego a present enjoyment. But that this is a false way of judging, when applied to the happiness of another life, they must confess; unlessthey will say, God cannot make those happy he designs to be so. For thatbeing intended for a state of happiness, it must certainly be agreeableto every one's wish and desire: could we suppose their relishes asdifferent there as they are here, yet the manna in heaven will suitevery one's palate. Thus much of the wrong judgment we make of presentand future pleasure and pain, when they are compared together, and sothe absent considered as future. 68. Wrong judgment in considering Consequences of Actions. (II). As to THINGS GOOD OR BAD IN THEIR CONSEQUENCES, and by the aptnessthat is in them to procure us good or evil in the future, we judge amissseveral ways. 1. When we judge that so much evil does not really depend on them as intruth there does. 2. When we judge that, though the consequence be of that moment, yet itis not of that certainty, but that it may otherwise fall out, or else bysome means be avoided; as by industry, address, change, repentance, &c. That these are wrong ways of judging, were easy to show in everyparticular, if I would examine them at large singly: but I shall onlymention this in general, viz. That it is a very wrong and irrationalway of proceeding, to venture a greater good for a less, upon uncertainguesses; and before a due examination be made, proportionable to theweightiness of the matter, and the concernment it is to us not tomistake. This I think every one must confess, especially if he considersthe usual cause of this wrong judgment, whereof these following aresome:-- 69. Causes of this. (i) IGNORANCE: He that judges without informing himself to the utmostthat he is capable, cannot acquit himself of judging amiss. (ii) INADVERTENCY: When a man overlooks even that which he does know. This is an affected and present ignorance, which misleads our judgmentsas much as the other. Judging is, as it were, balancing an account, anddetermining on which side the odds lie. If therefore either side behuddled up in haste, and several of the sums that should have gone intothe reckoning be overlooked and left out, this precipitancy causes aswrong a judgment as if it were a perfect ignorance. That which mostcommonly causes this is, the prevalency of some present pleasure orpain, heightened by our feeble passionate nature, most strongly wroughton by what is present. To check this precipitancy, our understanding andreason were given us, if we will make a right use of them, to search andsee, and then judge thereupon. How much sloth and negligence, heatand passion, the prevalency of fashion or acquired indispositions doseverally contribute, on occasion, to these wrong judgments, I shall nothere further inquire. I shall only add one other false judgment, whichI think necessary to mention, because perhaps it is little taken noticeof, though of great influence. 70. Wrong judgment of what is necessary to our Happiness. All men desire happiness, that is past doubt: but, as has been alreadyobserved, when they are rid of pain, they are apt to take up with anypleasure at hand, or that custom has endeared to them; to rest satisfiedin that; and so being happy, till some new desire, by making themuneasy, disturbs that happiness, and shows them that they are not so, they look no further; nor is the will determined to any action inpursuit of any other known or apparent good. For since we find that wecannot enjoy all sorts of good, but one excludes another; we do not fixour desires on every apparent greater good, unless it be judged to benecessary to our happiness: if we think we can be happy without it, itmoves us not. This is another occasion to men of judging wrong; whenthey take not that to be necessary to their happiness which really isso. This mistake misleads us, both in the choice of the good we aim at, and very often in the means to it, when it is a remote good. But, whichway ever it be, either by placing it where really it is not, or byneglecting the means as not necessary to it;--when a man misses hisgreat end, happiness, he will acknowledge he judged not right. Thatwhich contributes to this mistake is the real or supposed unpleasantnessof the actions which are the way to this end; it seeming so preposterousa thing to men, to make themselves unhappy in order to happiness, thatthey do not easily bring themselves to it. 71. We can change the Agreeableness or Disagreeableness in Things. The last inquiry, therefore, concerning this matter is, --Whether itbe in a man's power to change the pleasantness and unpleasantness thataccompanies any sort of action? And as to that, it is plain, in manycases he can. Men may and should correct their palates, and give relishto what either has, or they suppose has none. The relish of the mind isas various as that of the body, and like that too may be altered; andit is a mistake to think that men cannot change the displeasingness orindifferency that is in actions into pleasure and desire, if they willdo but what is in their power. A due consideration will do it in somecases; and practice, application, and custom in most. Bread or tobaccomay be neglected where they are shown to be useful to health, because ofan indifferency or disrelish to them; reason and consideration at firstrecommends, and begins their trial, and use finds, or custom makes thempleasant. That this is so in virtue too, is very certain. Actions arepleasing or displeasing, either in themselves, or considered as a meansto a greater and more desirable end. The eating of a well-seasoned dish, suited to a man's palate, may move the mind by the delight itself thataccompanies the eating, without reference to any other end; to which theconsideration of the pleasure there is in health and strength (to whichthat meat is subservient) may add a new GUSTO, able to make us swallowan ill-relished potion. In the latter of these, any action is renderedmore or less pleasing, only by the contemplation of the end, and thebeing more or less persuaded of its tendency to it, or necessaryconnexion with it: but the pleasure of the action itself is bestacquired or increased by use and practice. Trials often reconcile us tothat, which at a distance we looked on with aversion; and by repetitionswear us into a liking of what possibly, in the first essay, displeasedus. Habits have powerful charms, and put so strong attractions ofeasiness and pleasure into what we accustom ourselves to, that we cannotforbear to do, or at least be easy in the omission of, actions, whichhabitual practice has suited, and thereby recommends to us. Though thisbe very visible, and every one's experience shows him he can do so; yetit is a part in the conduct of men towards their happiness, neglected toa degree, that it will be possibly entertained as a paradox, if it besaid, that men can MAKE things or actions more or less pleasing tothemselves; and thereby remedy that, to which one may justly impute agreat deal of their wandering. Fashion and the common opinion havingsettled wrong notions, and education and custom ill habits, the justvalues of things are misplaced, and the palates of men corrupted. Pains should be taken to rectify these; and contrary habits change ourpleasures, and give a relish to that which is necessary or conducive toour happiness. This every one must confess he can do; and when happinessis lost, and misery overtakes him, he will confess he did amiss inneglecting it, and condemn himself for it; and I ask every one, whetherhe has not often done so? 72. Preference of Vice to Virtue a manifest wrong Judgment. I shall not now enlarge any further on the wrong judgments and neglectof what is in their power, whereby men mislead themselves. This wouldmake a volume, and is not my business. But whatever false notions, orshameful neglect of what is in their power, may put men out of their wayto happiness, and distract them, as we see, into so different coursesof life, this yet is certain, that morality established upon its truefoundations, cannot but determine the choice in any one that will butconsider: and he that will not be so far a rational creature as toreflect seriously upon INFINITE happiness and misery, must needs condemnhimself as not making that use of his understanding he should. Therewards and punishments of another life which the Almighty hasestablished, as the enforcements of his law, are of weight enough todetermine the choice against whatever pleasure or pain this life canshow, where the eternal state is considered but in its bare possibilitywhich nobody can make any doubt of. He that will allow exquisite andendless happiness to be but the possible consequence of a good lifehere, and the contrary state the possible reward of a bad one, mustown himself to judge very much amiss if he does not conclude, --That avirtuous life, with the certain expectation of everlasting bliss, whichmay come, is to be preferred to a vicious one, with the fear of thatdreadful state of misery, which it is very possible may overtake theguilty; or, at best, the terrible uncertain hope of annihilation. Thisis evidently so, though the virtuous life here had nothing but pain, andthe vicious continual pleasure: which yet is, for the most part, quiteotherwise, and wicked men have not much the odds to brag of, even intheir present possession; nay, all things rightly considered, have, Ithink, even the worse part here. But when infinite happiness is put intoone scale, against infinite misery in the other; if the worst that comesto the pious man, if he mistakes, be the best that the wicked can attainto, if he be in the right, who can without madness run the venture?Who in his wits would choose to come within a possibility of infinitemisery; which if he miss, there is yet nothing to be got by that hazard?Whereas, on the other side, the sober man ventures nothing againstinfinite happiness to be got, if his expectation comes not to pass. Ifthe good man be in the right, he is eternally happy; if he mistakes, heis not miserable, he feels nothing. On the other side, if the wickedman be in the right, he is not happy; if he mistakes, he is infinitelymiserable. Must it not be a most manifest wrong judgment that does notpresently see to which side, in this case, the preference is tobe given? I have forborne to mention anything of the certainty orprobability of a future state, designing here to show the wrong judgmentthat any one must allow he makes, upon his own principles, laid how hepleases, who prefers the short pleasures of a vicious life upon anyconsideration, whilst he knows, and cannot but be certain, that a futurelife is at least possible. 73. Recapitulation--Liberty of indifferency. To conclude this inquiry into human liberty, which, as it stood before, I myself from the beginning fearing, and a very judicious friend ofmine, since the publication, suspecting to have some mistake in it, though he could not particularly show it me, I was put upon a stricterreview of this chapter. Wherein lighting upon a very easy and scarceobservable slip I had made, in putting one seemingly indifferent wordfor another that discovery opened to me this present view, which here, in this second edition, I submit to the learned world, and which, inshort, is this: LIBERTY is a power to act or not to act, according asthe mind directs. A power to direct the operative faculties to motion orrest in particular instances is that which we call the WILL. That whichin the train of our voluntary actions determines the will to any changeof operation is SOME PRESENT UNEASINESS, which is, or at least is alwaysaccompanied with that of DESIRE. Desire is always moved by evil, to flyit: because a total freedom from pain always makes a necessary partof our happiness: but every good, nay, every greater good, does notconstantly move desire, because it may not make, or may not be taken tomake, any necessary part of our happiness. For all that we desire, isonly to be happy. But, though this general desire of happiness operatesconstantly and invariably, yet the satisfaction of any particular desireCAN BE SUSPENDED from determining the will to any subservient action, till we have maturely examined whether the particular apparent goodwhich we then desire makes a part of our real happiness, or beconsistent or inconsistent with it. The result of our judgment upon thatexamination is what ultimately determines the man; who could not be FREEif his will were determined by anything but his own desire, guided byhis own judgment. 74. Active and passive power, in motions and in thinking. True notions concerning the nature and extent of LIBERTY are of so greatimportance, that I hope I shall be pardoned this digression, which myattempt to explain it has led me into. The ideas of will, volition, liberty, and necessity, in this Chapter of Power, came naturally inmy way. In a former edition of this Treatise I gave an account of mythoughts concerning them, according to the light I then had. And now, asa lover of truth, and not a worshipper of my own doctrines, I own somechange of my opinion; which I think I have discovered ground for. Inwhat I first writ, I with an unbiassed indifferency followed truth, whither I thought she led me. But neither being so vain as to fancyinfallibility, nor so disingenuous as to dissemble my mistakes for fearof blemishing my reputation, I have, with the same sincere design fortruth only, not been ashamed to publish what a severer inquiry hassuggested. It is not impossible but that some may think my formernotions right; and some (as I have already found) these latter; and someneither. I shall not at all wonder at this variety in men's opinions:impartial deductions of reason in controverted points being so rare, andexact ones in abstract notions not so very easy especially if of anylength. And, therefore, I should think myself not a little beholden toany one, who would, upon these or any other grounds, fairly clear thissubject of LIBERTY from any difficulties that may yet remain. 75. Summary of our Original ideas. And thus I have, in a short draught, given a view of OUR ORIGINAL IDEAS, from whence all the rest are derived, and of which they are made up;which, if I would consider as a philosopher, and examine on what causesthey depend, and of what they are made, I believe they all might bereduced to these very few primary and original ones, viz. EXTENSION, SOLIDITY, MOBILITY, or the power of being moved; which by our senseswe receive from body: PERCEPTIVITY, or the power of perception, orthinking; MOTIVITY, or the power of moving: which by reflection wereceive from OUR MINDS. I crave leave to make use of these two new words, to avoid the danger ofbeing mistaken in the use of those which are equivocal. To which if we add EXISTENCE, DURATION, NUMBER, which belong both to theone and the other, we have, perhaps, all the original ideas on which therest depend. For by these, I imagine, might be EXPLAINED the nature ofcolours, sounds, tastes, smells, and ALL OTHER IDEAS WE HAVE, if we hadbut faculties acute enough to perceive the severally modified extensionsand motions of these minute bodies, which produce those severalsensations in us. But my present purpose being only to inquire into theknowledge the mind has of things, by those ideas and appearances whichGod has fitted it to receive from them, and how the mind comes by thatknowledge; rather than into their causes or manner of Production, Ishall not, contrary to the design of this Essay, see myself to inquirephilosophically into the peculiar constitution of BODIES, and theconfiguration of parts, whereby THEY have the power to produce in us theideas of their sensible qualities. I shall not enter any further intothat disquisition; it sufficing to my purpose to observe, that gold orsaffron has power to produce in us the idea of yellow, and snow or milkthe idea of white, which we can only have by our sight without examiningthe texture of the parts of those bodies or the particular figures ormotion of the particles which rebound from them, to cause in us thatparticular sensation, though, when we go beyond the bare ideas in ourminds and would inquire into their causes, we cannot conceive anythingelse to be in any sensible object, whereby it produces different ideasin us, but the different bulk, figure, number, texture, and motion ofits insensible parts. CHAPTER XXII. OF MIXED MODES. 1. Mixed Modes, what. Having treated of SIMPLE MODES in the foregoing chapters, and givenseveral instances of some of the most considerable of them, to showwhat they are, and how we come by them; we are now in the next place toconsider those we call MIXED MODES; such are the complex ideas we markby the names OBLIGATION, DRUNKENNESS, a LIE, &c. ; which consisting ofseveral combinations of simple ideas of DIFFERENT kinds, I have calledmixed modes, to distinguish them from the more simple modes, whichconsist only of simple ideas of the SAME kind. These mixed modes, beingalso such combinations of simple ideas as are not looked upon to becharacteristical marks of any real beings that have a steady existence, but scattered and independent ideas put together by the mind, arethereby distinguished from the complex ideas of substances. 2. Made by the Mind. That the mind, in respect of its simple ideas, is wholly passive, andreceives them all from the existence and operations of things, such assensation or reflection offers them, without being able to MAKE any oneidea, experience shows us. But if we attentively consider these ideasI call mixed modes, we are now speaking of, we shall find their originquite different. The mind often exercises an ACTIVE power in makingthese several combinations. For, it being once furnished with simpleideas, it can put them together in several compositions, and so makevariety of complex ideas, without examining whether they exist sotogether in nature. And hence I think it is that these ideas are calledNOTIONS: as they had their original, and constant existence, more in thethoughts of men, than in the reality of things; and to form such ideas, it sufficed that the mind put the parts of them together, and that theywere consistent in the understanding without considering whether theyhad any real being: though I do not deny but several of them might betaken from observation, and the existence of several simple ideas socombined, as they are put together in the understanding. For the man whofirst framed the idea of HYPOCRISY, might have either taken it at firstfrom the observation of one who made show of good qualities which he hadnot; or else have framed that idea in his mind without having any suchpattern to fashion it by. For it is evident that, in the beginning oflanguages and societies of men, several of those complex ideas, whichwere consequent to the constitutions established amongst them, mustneeds have been in the minds of men before they existed anywhere else;and that many names that stood for such complex ideas were in use, andso those ideas framed, before the combinations they stood for everexisted. 3. Sometimes got by the Explication of their Names. Indeed, now that languages are made, and abound with words standing forsuch combinations, an usual way of GETTING these complex ideas is, bythe explication of those terms that stand for them. For, consisting of acompany of simple ideas combined, they may, by words standing for thosesimple ideas, be represented to the mind of one who understands thosewords, though that complex combination of simple ideas were neveroffered to his mind by the real existence of things. Thus a man maycome to have the idea of SACRILEGE or MURDER, by enumerating to him thesimple ideas which these words stand for; without ever seeing either ofthem committed. 4. The Name ties the Parts of mixed Modes into one Idea. Every mixed mode consisting of many distinct simple ideas, it seemsreasonable to inquire, Whence it has its unity; and how such a precisemultitude comes to make but one idea; since that combination does notalways exist together in nature? To which I answer, it is plain it hasits unity from an act of the mind, combining those several simple ideastogether, and considering them as one complex one, consisting of thoseparts; and the mark of this union, or that which is looked on generallyto complete it, is one NAME given to that combination. For it is bytheir names that men commonly regulate their account of their distinctspecies of mixed modes, seldom allowing or considering any number ofsimple ideas to make one complex one, but such collections as there benames for. Thus, though the killing of an old man be as fit in natureto be united into one complex idea, as the killing a man's father; yet, there being no name standing precisely for the one, as there is the nameof PARRICIDE to mark the other, it is not taken for a particular complexidea, nor a distinct species of actions from that of killing a youngman, or any other man. 5. The Cause of making mixed Modes. If we should inquire a little further, to see what it is that occasionsmen to make several combinations of simple ideas into distinct, and, as it were, settled modes, and neglect others, which in the nature ofthings themselves, have as much an aptness to be combined and makedistinct ideas, we shall find the reason of it to be the end oflanguage; which being to mark, or communicate men's thoughts to oneanother with all the dispatch that may be, they usually make SUCHcollections of ideas into complex modes, and affix names to them, asthey have frequent use of in their way of living and conversation, leaving others which they have but seldom an occasion to mention, loose and without names that tie them together: they rather choosingto enumerate (when they have need) such ideas as make them up, by theparticular names that stand for them, than to trouble their memoriesby multiplying of complex ideas with names to them, which they seldom ornever have any occasion to make use of. 6. Why Words in one Language have none answering in another. This shows us how it comes to pass that there are in every language manyparticular words which cannot be rendered by any one single word ofanother. For the several fashions, customs, and manners of one nation, making several combinations of ideas familiar and necessary in one, which another people have had never an occasion to make, or perhaps somuch as take notice of, names come of course to be annexed to them, toavoid long periphrases in things of daily conversation; and so theybecome so many distinct complex ideas in their minds. Thus ostrakismosamongst the Greeks, and proscriptio amongst the Romans, were words whichother languages had no names that exactly answered; because they stoodfor complex ideas which were not in the minds of the men of othernations. Where there was no such custom, there was no notion of any suchactions; no use of such combinations of ideas as were united, and, asit were, tied together, by those terms: and therefore in other countriesthere were no names for them. 7. And Languages change. Hence also we may see the reason, why languages constantly change, takeup new and lay by old terms. Because change of customs and opinionsbringing with it new combinations of ideas, which it is necessaryfrequently to think on and talk about, new names, to avoid longdescriptions, are annexed to them; and so they become new species ofcomplex modes. What a number of different ideas are by this means wrappedup in one short sound, and how much of our time and breath is therebysaved, any one will see, who will but take the pains to enumerate all theideas that either REPRIEVE or APPEAL stand for; and instead of either ofthose names, use a periphrasis, to make any one understand their meaning. 8. Mixed Modes Though I shall have occasion to consider this more at-large when I cometo treat of Words and their use, yet I could not avoid to take thusmuch notice here of the NAMES OF MIXED MODES; which being fleeting andtransient combinations of simple ideas, which have but a short existenceanywhere but in the minds of men, and there too have no longer anyexistence than whilst they are thought on, have not so much anywhere theappearance of a constant and lasting existence as in their names: whichare therefore, in this sort of ideas, very apt to be taken for the ideasthemselves. For, if we should inquire where the idea of a TRIUMPH orAPOTHEOSIS exists, it is evident they could neither of them existaltogether anywhere in the things themselves, being actions thatrequired time to their performance, and so could never all existtogether; and as to the minds of men, where the ideas of these actionsare supposed to be lodged, they have there too a very uncertainexistence: and therefore we are apt to annex them to the names thatexcite them in us. 9. How we get the Ideas of mixed Modes. There are therefore three ways whereby we get these complex ideas ofmixed modes:--(1) By experience and OBSERVATION of things themselves:thus, by seeing two men mixed wrestle or fence, we get the idea ofwrestling or fencing. (2) By INVENTION, or voluntary putting togetherof several simple ideas in our own minds: so he that first inventedprinting or etching, had an idea of it in his mind before it everexisted. (3) Which is the most usual way, by EXPLAINING THE NAMES ofactions we never saw, or motions we cannot see; and by enumerating, andthereby, as it were, setting before our imaginations all those ideaswhich go to the making them up, and are the constituent parts of them. For, having by sensation and reflection stored our minds with simpleideas, and by use got the names that stand for them, we can by thosemeans represent to another any complex idea we would have him conceive;so that it has in it no simple ideas but what he knows, and has with usthe same name for. For all our complex ideas are ultimately resolvableinto simple ideas, of which they are compounded and originally made up, though perhaps their immediate ingredients, as I may so say, are alsocomplex ideas. Thus, the mixed mode which the word LIE stands for ismade of these simple ideas:--(1) Articulate sounds. (2) Certain ideas inthe mind of the speaker. (3) Those words the signs of those ideas. (4)Those signs put together, by affirmation or negation, otherwise than theideas they stand for are in the mind of the speaker. I think I need notgo any further in the analysis of that complex idea we call a lie: whatI have said is enough to show that it is made up of simple ideas. And itcould not be but an offensive tediousness to my reader, to trouble himwith a more minute enumeration of every particular simple idea that goesto this complex one; which, from what has been said, he cannot but beable to make out to himself. The same may be done in all our complexideas whatsoever; which, however compounded and decompounded, may atlast be resolved into simple ideas, which are all the materials ofknowledge or thought we have, or can have. Nor shall we have reason tofear that the mind is hereby stinted to too scanty a number of ideas, if we consider what an inexhaustible stock of simple modes number andfigure alone afford us. How far then mixed modes, which admit of thevarious combinations of different simple ideas, and their infinitemodes, are from being few and scanty, we may easily imagine. So that, before we have done, we shall see that nobody need be afraid he shallnot have scope and compass enough for his thoughts to range in, thoughthey be, as I pretend, confined only to simple ideas, received fromsensation or reflection, and their several combinations. 10. Motion, Thinking, and Power have been most modified. It is worth our observing, which of all our simple ideas have been MOSTmodified, and had most mixed ideas made out of them, with names given tothem. And those have been these three:--THINKING and MOTION (which arethe two ideas which comprehend in them all action, ) and POWER, fromwhence these actions are conceived to flow. These simple ideas, I say, of thinking, motion, and power, have been those which have been mostmodified; and out of whose modifications have been made most complexmodes, with names to them. For ACTION being the great business ofmankind, and the whole matter about which all laws are conversant, it isno wonder that the several modes of thinking and motion should be takennotice of, the ideas of them observed, and laid up in the memory, andhave names assigned to them; without which laws could be but ill made, or vice and disorders repressed. Nor could any communication be wellhad amongst men without such complex ideas, with names to them: andtherefore men have settled names, and supposed settled ideas in theirminds, of modes of actions, distinguished by their causes, means, objects, ends, instruments, time, place, and other circumstances; andalso of their powers fitted for those actions: v. G. BOLDNESS is thepower to speak or do what we intend, before others, without fear ordisorder; and the Greeks call the confidence of speaking by a peculiarname, [word in Greek]: which power or ability in man of doing anything, when it has been acquired by frequent doing the same thing, is that ideawe name HABIT; when it is forward, and ready upon every occasionto break into action, we call it DISPOSITION. Thus, TESTINESS is adisposition or aptness to be angry. To conclude: Let us examine any modes of action, v. G. CONSIDERATION andASSENT, which are actions of the mind; RUNNING and SPEAKING, which areactions of the body; REVENGE and MURDER, which are actions of bothtogether, and we shall find them but so many collections of simpleideas, which, together, make up the complex ones signified by thosenames. 11. Several Words seeming to signify Action, signify but the effect. POWER being the source from whence all action proceeds, the substanceswherein these powers are, when they *[lost line??] exert this power intoact, are called CAUSES, and the substances which thereupon are produced, or the simple ideas which are introduced into any subject by theexerting of that power, are called EFFECTS. The EFFICACY whereby the newsubstance or idea is produced is called, in the subject exerting thatpower, ACTION; but in the subject wherein any simple idea is changed orproduced, it is called PASSION: which efficacy, however various, andthe effects almost infinite, yet we can, I think, conceive it, inintellectual agents, to be nothing else but modes of thinking andwilling; in corporeal agents, nothing else but modifications of motion. I say I think we cannot conceive it to be any other but these two. Forwhatever sort of action besides these produces any effects, I confessmyself to have no notion nor idea of; and so it is quite remote from mythoughts, apprehensions, and knowledge; and as much in the dark to meas five other senses, or as the ideas of colours to a blind man. Andtherefore many words which seem to express some action, signify nothingof the action or MODUS OPERANDI at all, but barely the effect, withsome circumstances of the subject wrought on, or cause operating: v. G. CREATION, ANNIHILATION, contain in them no idea of the action or mannerwhereby they are produced, but barely of the cause, and the thing done. And when a countryman says the cold freezes water, though the wordfreezing seems to import some action, yet truly it signifies nothing butthe effect, viz. That water that was before fluid is become hard andconsistent, without containing any idea of the action whereby it isdone. 12. Mixed Modes made also of other Ideas than those of Power and Action. I think I shall not need to remark here that, though power and actionmake the greatest part of mixed modes, marked by names, and familiar inthe minds and mouths of men, yet other simple ideas, and their severalcombinations, are not excluded: much less, I think, will it be necessaryfor me to enumerate all the mixed modes which have been settled, withnames to them. That would be to make a dictionary of the greatest partof the words made use of in divinity, ethics, law, and politics, andseveral other sciences. All that is requisite to my present design, isto show what sort of ideas those are which I call mixed modes; how themind comes by them; and that they are compositions made up of simpleideas got from sensation and reflection; which I suppose I have done. CHAPTER XXIII. OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. The mind being, as I have declared, furnished with a great number of thesimple ideas, conveyed in by the senses as they are found in exteriorthings, or by reflection on its own operations, takes notice also that acertain number of these simple ideas go constantly together; whichbeing presumed to belong to one thing, and words being suited to commonapprehensions, and made use of for quick dispatch are called, sounited in one subject, by one name; which, by inadvertency, we are aptafterward to talk of and consider as one simple idea, which indeed isa complication of many ideas together: because, as I have said, notimagining how these simple ideas CAN subsist by themselves, we accustomourselves to suppose some SUBSTRATUM wherein they do subsist, and fromwhich they do result, which therefore we call SUBSTANCE. 2. Our obscure Idea of Substance in general. So that if any one will examine himself concerning his notion of puresubstance in general, he will find he has no other idea of it at all, but only a supposition of he knows not what SUPPORT of such qualitieswhich are capable of producing simple ideas in us; which qualities arecommonly called accidents. If any one should be asked, what is thesubject wherein colour or weight inheres, he would have nothing to say, but the solid extended parts; and if he were demanded, what is it thatsolidity and extension adhere in, he would not be in a much bettercase than the Indian before mentioned who, saying that the world wassupported by a great elephant, was asked what the elephant rested on; towhich his answer was--a great tortoise: but being again pressed to knowwhat gave support to the broad-backed tortoise, replied--SOMETHING, HEKNEW NOT WHAT. And thus here, as in all other cases where we use wordswithout having clear and distinct ideas, we talk like children: who, being questioned what such a thing is, which they know not, readily givethis satisfactory answer, that it is SOMETHING: which in truth signifiesno more, when so used, either by children or men, but that they know notwhat; and that the thing they pretend to know, and talk of, is what theyhave no distinct idea of at all, and so are perfectly ignorant of it, and in the dark. The idea then we have, to which we give the GENERALname substance, being nothing but the supposed, but unknown, support ofthose qualities we find existing, which we imagine cannot subsist SINERE SUBSTANTE, without something to support them, we call that supportSUBSTANTIA; which, according to the true import of the word, is, inplain English, standing under or upholding. 3. Of the Sorts of Substances. An obscure and relative idea of SUBSTANCE IN GENERAL being thus made wecome to have the ideas of PARTICULAR SORTS OF SUBSTANCES, by collectingSUCH combinations of simple ideas as are, by experience and observationof men's senses, taken notice of to exist together; and are thereforesupposed to flow from the particular internal constitution, or unknownessence of that substance. Thus we come to have the ideas of a man, horse, gold, water, &c. ; of which substances, whether any one has anyother CLEAR idea, further than of certain simple ideas co-existenttogether, I appeal to every one's own experience. It is the ordinaryqualities observable in iron, or a diamond, put together, that makethe true complex idea of those substances, which a smith or a jewellercommonly knows better than a philosopher; who, whatever SUBSTANTIALFORMS he may talk of, has no other idea of those substances, than whatis framed by a collection of those simple ideas which are to be found inthem: only we must take notice, that our complex ideas of substances, besides all those simple ideas they are made up of, have always theconfused idea of something to which they belong, and in which theysubsist: and therefore when we speak of any sort of substance, we sayit is a thing having such or such qualities; as body is a thing that isextended, figured, and capable of motion; spirit, a thing capable ofthinking; and so hardness, friability, and power to draw iron, we say, are qualities to be found in a loadstone. These, and the like fashionsof speaking, intimate that the substance is supposed always SOMETHINGBESIDES the extension, figure, solidity, motion, thinking, or otherobservable ideas, though we know not what it is. 4. No clear or distinct idea of Substance in general. Hence, when we talk or think of any particular sort of corporealsubstances, as horse, stone, &c. , though the idea we have of either ofthem be but the complication or collection of those several simple ideasof sensible qualities, which we used to find united in the thing calledhorse or stone; yet, BECAUSE WE CANNOT CONCEIVE HOW THEY SHOULD SUBSISTALONE, NOR ONE IN ANOTHER, we suppose them existing in and supportedby some common subject; which support we denote by the name substance, though it be certain we have no clear or distinct idea of that thing wesuppose a support. 5. As clear an Idea of spiritual substance as of corporeal substance. The same thing happens concerning the operations of the mind, viz. Thinking, reasoning, fearing, &c. , which we concluding not to subsist ofthemselves, nor apprehending how they can belong to body, or be producedby it, we are apt to think these the actions of some other SUBSTANCE, which we call SPIRIT; whereby yet it is evident that, having no otheridea or notion of matter, but something wherein those many sensiblequalities which affect our senses do subsist; by supposing a substancewherein thinking, knowing, doubting, and a power of moving, &c. , dosubsist, we have as clear a notion of the substance of spirit, as wehave of body; the one being supposed to be (without knowing what it is)the SUBSTRATUM to those simple ideas we have from without; and the othersupposed (with a like ignorance of what it is) to be the SUBSTRATUM tothose operations we experiment in ourselves within. It is plain then, that the idea of CORPOREAL SUBSTANCE in matter is as remote from ourconceptions and apprehensions, as that of SPIRITUAL SUBSTANCE, orspirit: and therefore, from our not having, any notion of the substanceof spirit, we can no more conclude its non-existence, than we can, forthe same reason, deny the existence of body; it being as rational toaffirm there is no body, because we have no clear and distinct idea ofthe substance of matter, as to say there is no spirit, because we haveno clear and distinct idea of the substance of a spirit. 6. Our ideas of particular Sorts of Substances. Whatever therefore be the secret abstract nature of substance ingeneral, all the ideas we have of particular distinct sorts ofsubstances are nothing but several combinations of simple ideas, co-existing in such, though unknown, cause of their union, as makes thewhole subsist of itself. It is by such combinations of simple ideas, and nothing else, that we represent particular sorts of substances toourselves; such are the ideas we have of their several species in ourminds; and such only do we, by their specific names, signify to others, v. G. Man, horse, sun, water, iron: upon hearing which words, every onewho understands the language, frames in his mind a combination of thoseseveral simple ideas which he has usually observed, or fancied to existtogether under that denomination; all which he supposes to rest in andbe, as it were, adherent to that unknown common subject, which inheresnot in anything else. Though, in the meantime, it be manifest, and everyone, upon inquiry into his own thoughts, will find, that he has no otheridea of any substance, v. G. Let it be gold, horse, iron, man, vitriol, bread, but what he has barely of those sensible qualities, which hesupposes to inhere; with a supposition of such a substratum as gives, as it were, a support to those qualities or simple ideas, which he hasobserved to exist united together. Thus, the idea of the sun, --whatis it but an aggregate of those several simple ideas, bright, hot, roundish, having a constant regular motion, at a certain distance fromus, and perhaps some other: as he who thinks and discourses of the sunhas been more or less accurate in observing those sensible qualities, ideas, or properties, which are in that thing which he calls the sun. 7. Their active and passive Powers a great part of our complex Ideas ofSubstances. For he has the perfectest idea of any of the particular sorts ofsubstances, who has gathered, and put together, most of those simpleideas which do exist in it; among which are to be reckoned its activepowers, and passive capacities, which, though not simple ideas, yet inthis respect, for brevity's sake, may conveniently enough be reckonedamongst them. Thus, the power of drawing iron is one of the ideas of thecomplex one of that substance we call a loadstone; and a power to be sodrawn is a part of the complex one we call iron: which powers pass forinherent qualities in those subjects. Because every substance, being asapt, by the powers we observe in it, to change some sensible qualitiesin other subjects, as it is to produce in us those simple ideas whichwe receive immediately from it, does, by those new sensible qualitiesintroduced into other subjects, discover to us those powers which dothereby mediately affect our senses, as regularly as its sensiblequalities do it immediately: v. G. We immediately by our senses perceivein fire its heat and colour; which are, if rightly considered, nothingbut powers in it to produce those ideas in US: we also by our sensesperceive the colour and brittleness of charcoal, whereby we come by theknowledge of another power in fire, which it has to change the colourand consistency of WOOD. By the former, fire immediately, by the latter, it mediately discovers to us these several powers; which therefore welook upon to be a part of the qualities of fire, and so make them a partof the complex idea of it. For all those powers that we take cognizanceof, terminating only in the alteration of some sensible qualities inthose subjects on which they operate, and so making them exhibit to usnew sensible ideas, therefore it is that I have reckoned these powersamongst the simple ideas which make the complex ones of the sorts ofsubstances; though these powers considered in themselves, are trulycomplex ideas. And in this looser sense I crave leave to be understood, when I name any of these POTENTIALITIES among the simple ideas which werecollect in our minds when we think of PARTICULAR SUBSTANCES. For thepowers that are severally in them are necessary to be considered, if wewill have true distinct notions of the several sorts of substances. 8. And why. Nor are we to wonder that powers make a great part of our complex ideasof substances; since their secondary qualities are those which in mostof them serve principally to distinguish substances one from another, and commonly make a considerable part of the complex idea of the severalsorts of them. For, our senses failing us in the discovery of the bulk, texture, and figure of the minute parts of bodies, on which their realconstitutions and differences depend, we are fain to make use of theirsecondary qualities as the characteristical notes and marks whereby toframe ideas of them in our minds, and distinguish them one from another:all which secondary qualities, as has been shown, are nothing but barepowers. For the colour and taste of opium are, as well as its soporificor anodyne virtues, mere powers, depending on its primary qualities, whereby it is fitted to produce different operations on different partsof our bodies. 9. Three sorts of Ideas make our complex ones of Corporeal Substances. The ideas that make our complex ones of corporeal substances, are ofthese three sorts. First, the ideas of the primary qualities of things, which are discovered by our senses, and are in them even when weperceive them not; such are the bulk, figure, number, situation, andmotion of the parts of bodies; which are really in them, whether wetake notice of them or not. Secondly, the sensible secondary qualities, which, depending on these, are nothing but the powers those substanceshave to produce several ideas in us by our senses; which ideas are notin the things themselves, otherwise than as anything is in its cause. Thirdly, the aptness we consider in any substance, to give or receivesuch alterations of primary qualities, as that the substance so alteredshould produce in us different ideas from what it did before; these arecalled active and passive powers: all which powers, as far as we haveany notice or notion of them, terminate only in sensible simple ideas. For whatever alteration a loadstone has the power to make in the minuteparticles of iron, we should have no notion of any power it had at allto operate on iron, did not its sensible motion discover it: and I doubtnot, but there are a thousand changes, that bodies we daily handle havea power to cause in one another, which we never suspect, because theynever appear in sensible effects. 10. Powers thus make a great Part of our complex Ideas of particularSubstances. POWERS therefore justly make a great part of our complex ideas ofsubstances. He that will examine his complex idea of gold, will findseveral of its ideas that make it up to be only powers; as the power ofbeing melted, but of not spending itself in the fire; of being dissolvedin AQUA REGIA, are ideas as necessary to make up our complex idea ofgold, as its colour and weight: which, if duly considered, are alsonothing but different powers. For, to speak truly, yellowness is notactually in gold, but is a power in gold to produce that idea in us byour eyes, when placed in a due light: and the heat, which we cannotleave out of our ideas of the sun, is no more really in the sun, thanthe white colour it introduces into wax. These are both equally powersin the sun, operating, by the motion and figure of its sensible parts, so on a man, as to make him have the idea of heat; and so on wax, as tomake it capable to produce in a man the idea of white. 11. The now secondary Qualities of Bodies would disappear, if we coulddiscover the primary ones of their minute Parts. Had we senses acute enough to discern the minute particles of bodies, and the real constitution on which their sensible qualities depend, Idoubt not but they would produce quite different ideas in us: and thatwhich is now the yellow colour of gold, would then disappear, andinstead of it we should see an admirable texture of parts, of a certainsize and figure. This microscopes plainly discover to us; for what toour naked eyes produces a certain colour, is, by thus augmenting theacuteness of our senses, discovered to be quite a different thing; andthe thus altering, as it were, the proportion of the bulk of the minuteparts of a coloured object to our usual sight, produces different ideasfrom what it did before. Thus, sand or pounded glass, which is opaque, and white to the naked eye, is pellucid in a microscope; and a hairseen in this way, loses its former colour, and is, in a great measure, pellucid, with a mixture of some bright sparkling colours, such asappear from the refraction of diamonds, and other pellucid bodies. Blood, to the naked eye, appears all red; but by a good microscope, wherein its lesser parts appear, shows only some few globules of red, swimming in a pellucid liquor, and how these red globules would appear, if glasses could be found that could yet magnify them a thousand or tenthousand times more, is uncertain. 12. Our Faculties for Discovery of the Qualities and powers ofSubstances suited to our State. The infinite wise Contriver of us, and all things about us, hath fittedour senses, faculties, and organs, to the conveniences of life, and thebusiness we have to do here. We are able, by our senses, to know anddistinguish things: and to examine them so far as to apply them to ouruses, and several ways to accommodate the exigences of this life. Wehave insight enough into their admirable contrivances and wonderfuleffects, to admire and magnify the wisdom, power and goodness oftheir Author. Such a knowledge as this which is suited to our presentcondition, we want not faculties to attain. But it appears not that Godintended we should have a perfect, clear, and adequate knowledge ofthem: that perhaps is not in the comprehension of any finite being. Weare furnished with faculties (dull and weak as they are) to discoverenough in the creatures to lead us to the knowledge of the Creator, andthe knowledge of our duty; and we are fitted well enough with abilitiesto provide for the conveniences of living: these are our business inthis world. But were our senses altered, and made much quicker andacuter, the appearance and outward scheme of things would have quiteanother face to us; and, I am apt to think, would be inconsistent withour being, or at least wellbeing, in the part of the universe which weinhabit. He that considers how little our constitution is able to beara remove into part of this air, not much higher than that we commonlybreathe in, will have reason to be satisfied, that in this globe ofearth allotted for our mansion, the all-wise Architect has suited ourorgans, and the bodies that are to affect them, one to another. If oursense of hearing were but a thousand times quicker than it is, how woulda perpetual noise distract us. And we should in the quietest retirementbe less able to sleep or meditate than in the middle of a sea-fight. Nay, if that most instructive of our senses, seeing, were in any man athousand or a hundred thousand times more acute than it is by the bestmicroscope, things several millions of times less than the smallestobject of his sight now would then be visible to his naked eyes, and sohe would come nearer to the discovery of the texture and motion of theminute parts of corporeal things; and in many of them, probably getideas of their internal constitutions: but then he would be in a quitedifferent world from other people: nothing would appear the same to himand others: the visible ideas of everything would be different. So thatI doubt, whether he and the rest of men could discourse concerningthe objects of sight, or have any communication about colours, theirappearances being so wholly different. And perhaps such a quickness andtenderness of sight could not endure bright sunshine, or so much as opendaylight; nor take in but a very small part of any object at once, and that too only at a very near distance. And if by the help of suchMICROSCOPICAL EYES (if I may so call them) a man could penetrate furtherthan ordinary into the secret composition and radical texture of bodies, he would not make any great advantage by the change, if such an acutesight would not serve to conduct him to the market and exchange; if hecould not see things he was to avoid, at a convenient distance; nordistinguish things he had to do with by those sensible qualities othersdo. He that was sharp-sighted enough to see the configuration of theminute particles of the spring of a clock, and observe upon whatpeculiar structure and impulse its elastic motion depends, would nodoubt discover something very admirable: but if eyes so framed could notview at once the hand, and the characters of the hour-plate, and therebyat a distance see what o'clock it was, their owner could not be muchbenefited by that acuteness; which, whilst it discovered the secretcontrivance of the parts of the machine, made him lose its use. 13. Conjecture about the corporeal organs of some Spirits. And here give me leave to propose an extravagant conjecture of mine, viz. That since we have some reason (if there be any credit to be givento the report of things that our philosophy cannot account for) toimagine, that Spirits can assume to themselves bodies of different bulk, figure, and conformation of parts--whether one great advantage some ofthem have over us may not lie in this, that they can so frame and shapeto themselves organs of sensation or perception, as to suit them totheir present design, and the circumstances of the object they wouldconsider. For how much would that man exceed all others in knowledge, who had but the faculty so to alter the structure of his eyes, that onesense, as to make it capable of all the several degrees of vision whichthe assistance of glasses (casually at first lighted on) has taught usto conceive? What wonders would he discover, who could so fit his eyesto all sorts of objects, as to see when he pleased the figure and motionof the minute particles in the blood, and other juices of animals, asdistinctly as he does, at other times, the shape and motion of theanimals themselves? But to us, in our present state, unalterable organs, so contrived as to discover the figure and motion of the minute parts ofbodies, whereon depend those sensible qualities we now observe in them, would perhaps be of no advantage. God has no doubt made them so asis best for us in our present condition. He hath fitted us for theneighbourhood of the bodies that surround us, and we have to do with;and though we cannot, by the faculties we have, attain to a perfectknowledge of things, yet they will serve us well enough for those endsabove-mentioned, which are our great concernment. I beg my reader'spardon for laying before him so wild a fancy concerning the ways ofperception of beings above us; but how extravagant soever it be, I doubtwhether we can imagine anything about the knowledge of angels but afterthis manner, some way or other in proportion to what we find and observein ourselves. And though we cannot but allow that the infinite power andwisdom of God may frame creatures with a thousand other faculties andways of perceiving things without them than what we have, yet ourthoughts can go no further than our own: so impossible it is for usto enlarge our very guesses beyond the ideas received from our ownsensation and reflection. The supposition, at least, that angels dosometimes assume bodies, needs not startle us; since some of the mostancient and most learned Fathers of the church seemed to believe thatthey had bodies: and this is certain, that their state and way ofexistence is unknown to us. 14. Our specific Ideas of Substances. But to return to the matter in hand, --the ideas we have of substances, and the ways we come by them. I say, our SPECIFIC ideas of substancesare nothing else but A COLLECTION OF CERTAIN NUMBER OF SIMPLE IDEAS, CONSIDERED AS UNITED IN ONE THING. These ideas of substances, thoughthey are commonly simple apprehensions, and the names of them simpleterms, yet in effect are complex and compounded. Thus the idea which anEnglishman signifies by the name swan, is white colour, long neck, redbeak, black legs, and whole feet, and all these of a certain size, witha power of swimming in the water, and making a certain kind of noise, and perhaps, to a man who has long observed this kind of birds, someother properties: which all terminate in sensible simple ideas, allunited in one common subject. 15. Our Ideas of spiritual Substances, as clear as of bodily Substances. Besides the complex ideas we have of material sensible substances, ofwhich I have last spoken, --by the simple ideas we have taken from thoseoperations of our own minds, which we experiment daily in ourselves, as thinking, understanding, willing, knowing, and power of beginningmotion, &c. , co-existing in some substance, we are able to frame theCOMPLEX IDEA OF AN IMMATERIAL SPIRIT. And thus, by putting together theideas of thinking, perceiving, liberty, and power of moving themselvesand other things, we have as clear a perception and notion of immaterialsubstances as we have of material. For putting together the ideas ofthinking and willing, or the power of moving or quieting corporealmotion, joined to substance, of which we have no distinct idea, we havethe idea of an immaterial spirit; and by putting together the ideas ofcoherent solid parts, and a power of being moved joined with substance, of which likewise we have no positive idea, we have the idea of matter. The one is as clear and distinct an idea as the other: the idea ofthinking, and moving a body, being as clear and distinct ideas as theideas of extension, solidity, and being moved. For our idea of substanceis equally obscure, or none at all, in both: it is but a supposed I knownot what, to support those ideas we call accidents. It is for want ofreflection that we are apt to think that our senses show us nothing butmaterial things. Every act of sensation, when duly considered, gives usan equal view of both parts of nature, the corporeal and spiritual. Forwhilst I know, by seeing or hearing, &c. , that there is some corporealbeing without me, the object of that sensation, I do more certainlyknow, that there is some spiritual being within me that sees and hears. This, I must be convinced, cannot be the action of bare insensiblematter; nor ever could be, without an immaterial thinking being. 16. No Idea of abstract Substance either in Body or Spirit. By the complex idea of extended, figured, coloured, and all othersensible qualities, which is all that we know of it, we are as far fromthe idea of the substance of body, as if we knew nothing at all: norafter all the acquaintance and familiarity which we imagine we have withmatter, and the many qualities men assure themselves they perceive andknow in bodies, will it perhaps upon examination be found, that theyhave any more or clearer primary ideas belonging to body, than they havebelonging to immaterial spirit. 17. Cohesion of solid parts and Impulse, the primary ideas peculiar toBody. The primary ideas we have PECULIAR TO BODY, as contradistinguished tospirit, are the COHESION OF SOLID, AND CONSEQUENTLY SEPARABLE, PARTS, and a POWER OF COMMUNICATING MOTION BY IMPULSE. These, I think, arethe original ideas proper and peculiar to body; for figure is but theconsequence of finite extension. 18. Thinking and Motivity The ideas we have belonging and PECULIAR TO SPIRIT, are THINKING, andWILL, or A POWER OF PUTTING BODY INTO MOTION BY THOUGHT, AND, WHICHIS CONSEQUENT TO IT, LIBERTY. For, as body cannot but communicate itsmotion by impulse to another body, which it meets with at rest, so themind can put bodies into motion, or forbear to do so, as it pleases. Theideas of EXISTENCE, DURATION, and MOBILITY, are common to them both. 19. Spirits capable of Motion. There is no reason why it should be thought strange that I make mobilitybelong to spirit; for having no other idea of motion, but change ofdistance with other beings that are considered as at rest; and findingthat spirits, as well as bodies, cannot operate but where they are; andthat spirits do operate at several times in several places, I cannot butattribute change of place to all finite spirits: (for of the InfiniteSpirit I speak not here). For my soul, being a real being as well as mybody, is certainly as capable of changing distance with any otherbody, or being, as body itself; and so is capable of motion. And ifa mathematician can consider a certain distance, or a change of thatdistance between two points, one may certainly conceive a distance and achange of distance, between two spirits; and so conceive their motion, their approach or removal, one from another. 20. Proof of this. Every one finds in himself that his soul can think will, and operate onhis body in the place where that is, but cannot operate on a body, or ina place, an hundred miles distant from it. Nobody can imagine that hissoul can think or move a body at Oxford, whilst he is at London; andcannot but know, that, being united to his body, it constantly changesplace all the whole journey between Oxford and London, as the coach orhorse does that carries him, and I think may be said to be truly allthat while in motion or if that will not be allowed to afford us a clearidea enough of its motion, its being separated from the body in death, Ithink, will; for to consider it as going out of the body, or leaving it, and yet to have no idea of its motion, seems to me impossible. 21. God immoveable because infinite. If it be said by any one that it cannot change place, because it hathnone, for the spirits are not IN LOCO, but UBI; I suppose that way oftalking will not now be of much weight to many, in an age that is notmuch disposed to admire, or suffer themselves to be deceived by suchunintelligible ways of speaking. But if any one thinks there is anysense in that distinction, and that it is applicable to our presentpurpose, I desire him to put it into intelligible English; and then fromthence draw a reason to show that immaterial spirits are not capable ofmotion. Indeed motion cannot be attributed to God; not because he is animmaterial, but because he is an infinite spirit. 22. Our complex idea of an immaterial Spirit and our complex idea ofBody compared. Let us compare, then, our complex idea of an immaterial spirit with ourcomplex idea of body, and see whether there be any more obscurity in onethan in the other, and in which most. Our idea of BODY, as I think, isAN EXTENDED SOLID SUBSTANCE, CAPABLE OF COMMUNICATING MOTION BY IMPULSE:and our idea of SOUL, AS AN IMMATERIAL SPIRIT, is of A SUBSTANCE THATTHINKS, AND HAS A POWER OF EXCITING MOTION IN BODY, BY WILLING, ORTHOUGHT. These, I think, are our complex ideas of soul and body, ascontradistinguished; and now let us examine which has most obscurity init, and difficulty to be apprehended. I know that people whose thoughtsare immersed in matter, and have so subjected their minds to theirsenses that they seldom reflect on anything beyond them, are apt to say, they cannot comprehend a THINKING thing which perhaps is true: but Iaffirm, when they consider it well, they can no more comprehend anEXTENDED thing. 23. Cohesion of solid Parts in Body as hard to be conceived as thinkingin a Soul. If any one says he knows not what it is thinks in him, he means he knowsnot what the substance is of that thinking thing: No more, say I, knowshe what the substance is of that solid thing. Further, if he says heknows not how he thinks, I answer, Neither knows he how he is extended, how the solid parts of body are united or cohere together to makeextension. For though the pressure of the particles of air may accountfor the cohesion of several parts of matter that are grosser than theparticles of air, and have pores less than the corpuscles of air, yetthe weight or pressure of the air will not explain, nor can be a causeof the coherence of the particles of air themselves. And if the pressureof the aether, or any subtiler matter than the air, may unite, and holdfast together, the parts of a particle of air, as well as other bodies, yet it cannot make bonds for ITSELF, and hold together the parts thatmake up every the least corpuscle of that MATERIA SUBTILIS. So that thathypothesis, how ingeniously soever explained, by showing that the partsof sensible bodies are held together by the pressure of other externalinsensible bodies, reaches not the parts of the aether itself; and byhow much the more evident it proves, that the parts of other bodies areheld together by the external pressure of the aether, and can have noother conceivable cause of their cohesion and union, by so much the moreit leaves us in the dark concerning the cohesion of the parts of thecorpuscles of the aether itself: which we can neither conceive withoutparts, they being bodies, and divisible, nor yet how their parts cohere, they wanting that cause of cohesion which is given of the cohesion ofthe parts of all other bodies. 24. Not explained by an ambient fluid. But, in truth, the pressure of any ambient fluid, how great soever, canbe no intelligible cause of the cohesion of the solid parts of matter. For, though such a pressure may hinder the avulsion of two polishedsuperficies, one from another, in a line perpendicular to them, as inthe experiment of two polished marbles; yet it can never in the leasthinder the separation by a motion, in a line parallel to those surfaces. Because the ambient fluid, having a full liberty to succeed in eachpoint of space, deserted by a lateral motion, resists such a motion ofbodies, so joined, no more than it would resist the motion of that bodywere it on all sides environed by that fluid, and touched no other body;and therefore, if there were no other cause of cohesion, all parts ofbodies must be easily separable by such a lateral sliding motion. For ifthe pressure of the aether be the adequate cause of cohesion, whereverthat cause operates not, there can be no cohesion. And since it cannotoperate against a lateral separation, (as has been shown, ) therefore inevery imaginary plane, intersecting any mass of matter, there couldbe no more cohesion than of two polished surfaces, which will always, notwithstanding any imaginable pressure of a fluid, easily slide onefrom another. So that perhaps, how clear an idea soever we think we haveof the extension of body, which is nothing but the cohesion of solidparts, he that shall well consider it in his mind, may have reason toconclude, That it is as easy for him to have a clear idea how the soulthinks as how body is extended. For, since body is no further, norotherwise, extended, than by the union and cohesion of its solidparts, we shall very ill comprehend the extension of body, withoutunderstanding wherein consists the union and cohesion of its parts;which seems to me as incomprehensible as the manner of thinking, and howit is performed. We can as little understand how the parts cohere in extension as how ourspirits perceive or move. 25. I allow it is usual for most people to wonder how any one shouldfind a difficulty in what they think they every day observe. Do wenot see (will they be ready to say) the parts of bodies stick firmlytogether? Is there anything more common? And what doubt can there bemade of it? And the like, I say, concerning thinking and voluntarymotion. Do we not every moment experiment it in ourselves, and thereforecan it be doubted? The matter of fact is clear, I confess; but when wewould a little nearer look into it, both in the one and the other;and can as little understand how the parts of body cohere, as how weourselves perceive or move. I would have any one intelligibly explainto me how the parts of gold, or brass, (that but now in fusion were asloose from one another as the particles of water, or the sands of anhour-glass, ) come in a few moments to be so united, and adhere sostrongly one to another, that the utmost force of men's arms cannotseparate them? A considering man will, I suppose, be here at a loss tosatisfy his own, or another man's understanding. 26. The cause of coherence of atoms in extended substancesincomprehensible. The little bodies that compose that fluid we call water are so extremelysmall, that I have never heard of any one who, by a microscope, (and yetI have heard of some that have magnified to ten thousand; nay, to muchabove a hundred thousand times, ) pretended to perceive their distinctbulk, figure, or motion; and the particles of water are also soperfectly loose one from another, that the least force sensiblyseparates them. Nay, if we consider their perpetual motion, we mustallow them to have no cohesion one with another; and yet let but a sharpcold come, and they unite, they consolidate; these little atoms cohere, and are not, without great force, separable. He that could find thebonds that tie these heaps of loose little bodies together so firmly; hethat could make known the cement that makes them stick so fast one toanother, would discover a great and yet unknown secret: and yet whenthat was done, would he be far enough from making the extension of body(which is the cohesion of its solid parts) intelligible, till he couldshow wherein consisted the union, or consolidation of the parts of thosebonds or of that cement, or of the least particle of matter that exists. Whereby it appears that this primary and supposed obvious quality ofbody will be found, when examined, to be as incomprehensible as anythingbelonging to our minds, and a solid extended substance as hard to beconceived as a thinking immaterial one, whatever difficulties some wouldraise against it. 27. The supposed pressure [*dropped word] explain cohesion isunintelligible. For, to extend our thoughts a little further, the pressure which isbrought to explain the cohesion of bodies [*dropped line] considered, as no doubt it is, finite, let any one send his contemplation to theextremities of the universe, and there see what conceivable hoops, whatbond he can imagine to hold this mass of matter in so close a pressuretogether; from whence steel has its firmness, and the parts of a diamondtheir hardness and indissolubility. If matter be finite, it must haveits extremes; and there must be something to hinder it from scatteringasunder. If, to avoid this difficulty, any one will throw himself intothe supposition and abyss of infinite matter, let him consider whatlight he thereby brings to the cohesion of body, and whether he be everthe nearer making it intelligible, by resolving it into a suppositionthe most absurd and most incomprehensible of all other: so far is ourextension of body (which is nothing but the cohesion of solid parts)from being clearer, or more distinct, when we would inquire into thenature, cause, or manner of it, than the idea of thinking. 28. Communication of Motion by Impulse, or by Thought, equallyunintelligible. Another idea we have of body is, THE POWER OF COMMUNICATION OF MOTIONBY IMPULSE; and of our souls, THE POWER OF EXCITING MOTION BY THOUGHT. These ideas, the one of body, the other of our minds, every day'sexperience clearly furnishes us with: but if here again we inquire howthis is done, we are equally in the dark. For, in the communication ofmotion by impulse, wherein as much motion is lost to one body as isgot to the other, which is the ordinariest case, we can have no otherconception, but of the passing of motion out of one body into another;which, I think, is as obscure and inconceivable as how our minds moveor stop our bodies by thought, which we every moment find they do. Theincrease of motion by impulse, which is observed or believed sometimesto happen, is yet harder to be understood. We have by daily experienceclear evidence of motion produced both by impulse and by thought; butthe manner how, hardly comes within our comprehension: we are equallyat a loss in both. So that, however we consider motion, and itscommunication, either from body or spirit, the idea which belongs tospirit is at least as clear as that which belongs to body. And if weconsider the active power of moving, or, as I may call it, motivity, itis much clearer in spirit than body; since two bodies, placed by oneanother at rest, will never afford us the idea of a power in the one tomove the other, but by a borrowed motion: whereas the mind every dayaffords us ideas of an active power of moving of bodies; and thereforeit is worth our consideration, whether active power be not the properattribute of spirits, and passive power of matter. Hence may beconjectured that created spirits are not totally separate from matter, because they are both active and passive. Pure spirit, viz. God, is onlyactive; pure matter is only passive; those beings that are both activeand passive, we may judge to partake of both. But be that as it will, Ithink, we have as many and as clear ideas belonging to spirit as we havebelonging to body, the substance of each being equally unknown to us;and the idea of thinking in spirit, as clear as of extension in body;and the communication of motion by thought, which we attribute tospirit, is as evident as that by impulse, which we ascribe to body. Constant experience makes us sensible of both these, though our narrowunderstandings can comprehend neither. For, when the mind would lookbeyond those original ideas we have from sensation or reflection, andpenetrate into their causes, and manner of production, we find still itdiscovers nothing but its own short-sightedness. 29. Summary. To conclude. Sensation convinces us that there are solid extendedsubstances; and reflection, that there are thinking ones: experienceassures us of the existence of such beings, and that the one hath apower to move body by impulse, the other by thought; this we cannotdoubt of. Experience, I say, every moment furnishes us with the clearideas both of the one and the other. But beyond these ideas, as receivedfrom their proper sources, our faculties will not reach. If we wouldinquire further into their nature, causes, and manner, we perceive notthe nature of extension clearer than we do of thinking. If we wouldexplain them any further, one is as easy as the other; and there is nomore difficulty to conceive how A SUBSTANCE WE KNOW NOT should, bythought, set body into motion, than how A SUBSTANCE WE KNOW NOT should, by impulse, set body into motion. So that we are no more able todiscover wherein the ideas belonging to body consist, than thosebelonging to spirit. From whence it seems probable to me, that thesimple ideas we receive from sensation and reflection are the boundariesof our thoughts; beyond which the mind, whatever efforts it would make, is not able to advance one jot; nor can it make any discoveries, when itwould pry into the nature and hidden causes of those ideas. 30. Our idea of Spirit and our idea of Body compared. So that, in short, the idea we have of spirit, compared with the idea wehave of body, stands thus: the substance of spirits is unknown to us;and so is the substance of body equally unknown to us. Two primaryqualities or properties of body, viz. Solid coherent parts and impulse, we have distinct clear ideas of: so likewise we know, and have distinctclear ideas, of two primary qualities or properties of spirit, viz. Thinking, and a power of action; i. E. A power of beginning or stoppingseveral thoughts or motions. We have also the ideas of several qualitiesinherent in bodies, and have the clear distinct ideas of them; whichqualities are but the various modifications of the extension of coheringsolid parts, and their motion. We have likewise the ideas of the severalmodes of thinking viz. Believing, doubting, intending, fearing, hoping;all which are but the several modes of thinking. We have also the ideasof willing, and moving the body consequent to it, and with the bodyitself too; for, as has been shown, spirit is capable of motion. 31. The Notion of Spirit involves no more Difficulty in it than that ofBody. Lastly, if this notion of immaterial spirit may have, perhaps, somedifficulties in it not easily to be explained, we have therefore no morereason to deny or doubt the existence of such spirits, than we haveto deny or doubt the existence of body; because the notion of body iscumbered with some difficulties very hard, and perhaps impossible to beexplained or understood by us. For I would fain have instanced anythingin our notion of spirit more perplexed, or nearer a contradiction, thanthe very notion of body includes in it; the divisibility IN INFINITUMof any finite extension involving us, whether we grant or deny it, inconsequences impossible to be explicated or made in our apprehensionsconsistent; consequences that carry greater difficulty, and moreapparent absurdity, than anything can follow from the notion of animmaterial knowing substance. 32. We know nothing of things beyond our simple Ideas of them. Which we are not at all to wonder at, since we having but some fewsuperficial ideas of things, discovered to us only by the senses fromwithout, or by the mind, reflecting on what it experiments in itselfwithin, have no knowledge beyond that, much less of the internalconstitution, and true nature of things, being destitute of facultiesto attain it. And therefore experimenting and discovering in ourselvesknowledge, and the power of voluntary motion, as certainly as weexperiment, or discover in things without us, the cohesion andseparation of solid parts, which is the extension and motion of bodies;we have as much reason to be satisfied with our notion of immaterialspirit, as with our notion of body, and the existence of the one as wellas the other. For it being no more a contradiction that thinking shouldexist separate and independent from solidity, than it is a contradictionthat solidity should exist separate and independent from thinking, theybeing both but simple ideas, independent one from another and having asclear and distinct ideas in us of thinking as of solidity, I know notwhy we may not as well allow a thinking thing without solidity, i. E. Immaterial, to exist, as a solid thing without thinking, i. E. Matter, toexist; especially since it is not harder to concieve how thinking shouldexist without matter, than how matter should think. For whensoever wewould proceed beyond these simple ideas we have from sensation andreflection and dive further into the nature of things, we fall presentlyinto darkness and obscurity, perplexedness and difficulties, and candiscover nothing further but our own blindness and ignorance. Butwhichever of these complex ideas be clearest, that of body, orimmaterial spirit, this is evident, that the simple ideas that make themup are no other than what we have received from sensation or reflection:and so is it of all our other ideas of substances, even of God himself. 33. Our complex idea of God. For if we examine the idea we have of the incomprehensible SupremeBeing, we shall find that we come by it the same way; and that thecomplex ideas we have both of God, and separate spirits, are made ofthe simple ideas we receive from reflection; v. G. Having, from what weexperiment in ourselves, got the ideas of existence and duration; ofknowledge and power; of pleasure and happiness; and of several otherqualities and powers, which it is better to have than to be without;when we would frame an idea the most suitable we can to the SupremeBeing, we enlarge every one of these with our idea of infinity; and soputting them together, make our complex idea of God. For that the mindhas such a power of enlarging some of its ideas, received from sensationand reflection, has been already shown. 34. Our complex idea of God as infinite. If I find that I know some few things, and some of them, or all, perhapsimperfectly, I can frame an idea of knowing twice as many; which I candouble again, as often as I can add to number; and thus enlarge my ideaof knowledge, by extending its comprehension to all things existing, orpossible. The same also I can do of knowing them more perfectly; i. E. All their qualities, powers, causes, consequences, and relations, &c. , till all be perfectly known that is in them, or can any way relate tothem: and thus frame the idea of infinite or boundless knowledge. Thesame may also be done of power, till we come to that we call infinite;and also of the duration of existance, without beginning or end, and soframe the idea of an eternal being. The degrees or extent wherein weascribe existence, power, wisdom, and all other perfections (which wecan have any ideas of) to that sovereign Being, which we call G-d, beingall boundless and infinite, we frame the best idea of him our minds arecapable of: all which is done, I say, by enlarging those simple ideas wehave taken from the operations of our own minds, by reflection; or byour senses, from exterior things, to that vastness to which infinity canextend them. 35. God in his own essence incognisable. For it is infinity, which, joined to our ideas of existence, power, knowledge, &c. , makes that complex idea, whereby we represent toourselves, the best we can, the Supreme Being. For, though in his ownessence (which certainly we do not know, know, not knowing the realessence of a pebble, or a fly, or of our own selves) God be simple anduncompounded; yet I think I may say we have no other idea of him, but acomplex one of existence, knowledge, power, happiness, &c. , infinite andeternal: which are all distinct ideas, and some of them, being relative, are again compounded of others: all which being, as has been shown, originally got from sensation and reflection, go to make up the idea ornotion we have of God. 36. No Ideas in our complex ideas of Spirits, but those got fromSensation or Reflection. This further is to be observed, that there is no idea we attribute toGod, bating infinity, which is not also a part of our complex ideaof other spirits. Because, being capable of no other simple ideas, belonging to anything but body, but those which by reflection we receivefrom the operation of our own minds, we can attribute to spirits noother but what we receive from thence: and all the difference we can putbetween them, in our contemplation of spirits, is only in the severalextents and degrees of their knowledge, power, duration, happiness, &c. For that in our ideas, as well of spirits as of other things, we arerestrained to THOSE WE RECEIVE FROM SENSATION AND REFLECTION, is evidentfrom hence, --That, in our ideas of spirits, how much soever advanced inperfection beyond those of bodies, even to that of infinite, we cannotyet have any idea of the manner wherein they discover their thoughts oneto another: though we must necessarily conclude that separate spirits, which are beings that have perfecter knowledge and greater happinessthan we, must needs have also a perfecter way of communicating theirthoughts than we have, who are fain to make use of corporeal signs, andparticular sounds; which are therefore of most general use, as beingthe best and quickest we are capable of. But of immediate communicationhaving no experiment in ourselves, and consequently no notion of itat all, we have no idea how spirits, which use not words, can withquickness; or much less how spirits that have no bodies can be mastersof their own thoughts, and communicate or conceal them at pleasure, though we cannot but necessarily suppose they have such a power. 37. Recapitulation. And thus we have seen what kind of ideas we have of SUBSTANCES OF ALLKINDS, wherein they consist, and how we came by them. From whence, Ithink, it is very evident, First, That all our ideas of the several SORTS of substances are nothingbut collections of simple ideas: with a supposition of SOMETHING towhich they belong, and in which they subsist; though of this supposedsomething we have no clear distinct idea at all. Secondly, That all the simple ideas, that thus united in one commonSUBSTRATUM, make up our complex ideas of several SORTS of substances, are no other but such as we have received from sensation or reflection. So that even in those which we think we are most intimately acquaintedwith, and that come nearest the comprehension of our most enlargedconceptions, we cannot go beyond those simple ideas. And even in thosewhich seem most remote from all we have to do with, and do infinitelysurpass anything we can perceive in ourselves by reflection; or discoverby sensation in other things, we can attain to nothing but those simpleideas, which we originally received from sensation or reflection; as isevident in the complex ideas we have of angels, and particularly of Godhimself. Thirdly, That most of the simple ideas that make up our complex ideas ofsubstances, when truly considered, are only POWERS, however we are aptto take them for positive qualities; v. G. The greatest part of theideas that make our complex idea of GOLD are yellowness, great weight, ductility, fusibility, and solubility in AQUA REGIA, &c. , all unitedtogether in an unknown SUBSTRATUM: all which ideas are nothing else butso many relations to other substances; and are not really in the gold, considered barely in itself, though they depend on those real andprimary qualities of its internal constitution, whereby it has a fitnessdifferently to operate, and be operated on by several other substances. CHAPTER XXIV. OF COLLECTIVE IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 1. A collective idea is one Idea. Besides these complex ideas of several SINGLE substances, as of man, horse, gold, violet, apple, &c. , the mind hath also complex COLLECTIVEideas of substances; which I so call, because such ideas are made up ofmany particular substances considered together, as united into one idea, and which so joined; are looked on as one; v. G. The idea of such acollection of men as make an ARMY, though consisting of a great numberof distinct substances, is as much one idea as the idea of a man: andthe great collective idea of all bodies whatsoever, signified by thename WORLD, is as much one idea as the idea of any the least particleof matter in it; it sufficing to the unity of any idea, that it beconsidered as one representation or picture, though made up of ever somany particulars. 2. Made by the Power of composing in the Mind. These collective ideas of substances the mind makes, by its power ofcomposition, and uniting severally either simple or complex ideasinto one, as it does, by the same faculty, make the complex ideas ofparticular substances, consisting of an aggregate of divers simpleideas, united in one substance. And as the mind, by putting together therepeated ideas of unity, makes the collective mode, or complex idea, of any number, as a score, or a gross, &c. , --so, by putting togetherseveral particular substances, it makes collective ideas of substances, as a troop, an army, a swarm, a city, a fleet; each of which every onefinds that he represents to his own mind by one idea, in one view; andso under that notion considers those several things as perfectly one, asone ship, or one atom. Nor is it harder to conceive how an army of tenthousand men should make one idea than how a man should make one idea itbeing as easy to the mind to unite into one the idea of a great numberof men, and consider it as one as it is to unite into one particularall the distinct ideas that make up the composition of a man, andconsider them all together as one. 3. Artificial things that are made up of distinct substances are ourcollective Ideas. Amongst such kind of collective ideas are to be counted most part ofartificial things, at least such of them as are made up of distinctsubstances: and, in truth, if we consider all these collective ideasaright, as ARMY, CONSTELLATION, UNIVERSE, as they are united into somany single ideas, they are but the artificial draughts of the mind;bringing things very remote, and independent on one another, into oneview, the better to contemplate and discourse on them, united intoone conception, and signified by one name. For there are no thingsso remote, nor so contrary, which the mind cannot, by this art ofcomposition, bring into one idea; as is visible in that signified by thename UNIVERSE. CHAPTER XXV. OF RELATION. 1. Relation, what. BESIDES the ideas, whether simple or complex, that the mind has ofthings as they are in themselves, there are others it gets from theircomparison one with another. The understanding, in the consideration ofanything, is not confined to that precise object: it can carry any ideaas it were beyond itself, or at least look beyond it, to see how itstands in conformity to any other. When the mind so considers one thing, that it does as it were bring it to, and set it by another, and carriesits view from one to the other--this is, as the words import, RELATIONand RESPECT; and the denominations given to positive things, intimatingthat respect, and serving as marks to lead the thoughts beyond thesubject itself denominated, to something distinct from it, are what wecall RELATIVES; and the things so brought together, RELATED. Thus, whenthe mind considers Caius as such a positive being, it takes nothing intothat idea but what really exists in Caius; v. G. When I consider him as aman, I have nothing in my mind but the complex idea of the species, man. So likewise, when I say Caius is a white man, I have nothing but thebare consideration of a man who hath that white colour. But when I giveCaius the name HUSBAND, I intimate some other person; and when I givehim the name WHITER, I intimate some other thing: in both cases mythought is led to something beyond Caius, and there are two thingsbrought into consideration. And since any idea, whether simple orcomplex, may be the occasion why the mind thus brings two thingstogether, and as it were takes a view of them at once, though stillconsidered as distinct: therefore any of our ideas may be the foundationof relation. As in the above-mentioned instance, the contract andceremony of marriage with Sempronia is the occasion of the denominationand relation of husband; and the colour white the occasion why he issaid to be whiter than free-stone. 2. Ideas of relations without correlative Terms, not easily apprehended. These and the like relations, expressed by relative terms that haveothers answering them, with a reciprocal intimation, as father and son, bigger and less, cause and effect, are very obvious to every one, andeverybody at first sight perceives the relation. For father and son, husband and wife, and such other correlative terms, seem so nearly tobelong one to another, and, through custom, do so readily chime andanswer one another in people's memories, that, upon the naming of eitherof them, the thoughts are presently carried beyond the thing so named;and nobody overlooks or doubts of a relation, where it is so plainlyintimated. But where languages have failed to give correlative names, there the relation is not always so easily taken notice of. CONCUBINEis, no doubt, a relative name, as well as wife: but in languages wherethis and the like words have not a correlative term, there people arenot so apt to take them to be so, as wanting that evident mark ofrelation which is between correlatives, which seem to explain oneanother, and not to be able to exist, but together. Hence it is, that many of those names, which, duly considered, do include evidentrelations, have been called EXTERNAL DENOMINATIONS. But all names thatare more than empty sounds must signify some idea, which is either inthe thing to which the name is applied, and then it is positive, andis looked on as united to and existing in the thing to which thedenomination is given; or else it arises from the respect the mind findsin it to something distinct from it, with which it considers it, andthen it includes a relation. 3. Some seemingly absolute Terms contain Relations. Another sort of relative terms there is, which are not looked on to beeither relative, or so much as external denominations: which yet, underthe form and appearance of signifying something absolute in the subject, do conceal a tacit, though less observable, relation. Such are theseemingly positive terms of OLD, GREAT, IMPERFECT, &c. , whereof I shallhave occasion to speak more at large in the following chapters. 4. Relation different from the Things related. This further may be observed, That the ideas of relations may be thesame in men who have far different ideas of the things that are related, or that are thus compared: v. G. Those who have far different ideas ofa man, may yet agree in the notion of a father; which is a notionsuperinduced to the substance, or man, and refers only to an act of thatthink called man whereby he contributed to the generation of one of hisown kind, let man be what it will. 5. Change of Relation may be without any Change in the things related. The nature therefore of relation consists in the referring or comparingtwo things one to another; from which comparison one of both comes to bedenominated. And if either of those things be removed, or cease to be, the relation ceases, and the denomination consequent to it, thoughthe other receive in itself no alteration at all; v. G. Caius, whom Iconsider to-day as a father, ceases to be so to-morrow, only by thedeath of his son, without any alteration made in himself. Nay, barely bythe mind's changing the object to which it compares anything, the samething is capable of having contrary denominations at the same time: v. G. Caius, compared to several persons, may truly be said to be older andyounger, stronger and weaker, &c. 6. Relation only betwixt two things. Whatsoever doth or can exist, or be considered as one thing is positive:and so not only simple ideas and substances, but modes also, arepositive beings: though the parts of which they consist are very oftenrelative one to another: but the whole together considered as one thing, and producing in us the complex idea of one thing, which idea is in ourminds, as one picture, though an aggregate of divers parts, and underone name, it is a positive or absolute thing, or idea. Thus a triangle, though the parts thereof compared one to another be relative, yet theidea of the whole is a positive absolute idea. The same may be said of afamily, a tune, &c. ; for there can be no relation but betwixt two thingsconsidered as two things. There must always be in relation two ideas orthings, either in themselves really separate, or considered as distinct, and then a ground or occasion for their comparison. 7. All Things capable of Relation. Concerning relation in general, these things may be considered: First, That there is no one thing, whether simple idea, substance, mode, or relation, or name of either of them, which is not capable of almostan infinite number of considerations in reference to other things: andtherefore this makes no small part of men's thoughts and words: v. G. Onesingle man may at once be concerned in, and sustain all these followingrelations, and many more, viz. Father, brother, son, grandfather, grandson, father-in-law, son-in-law, husband, friend, enemy, subject, general, judge, patron, client, professor, European, Englishman, islander, servant, master, possessor, captain, superior, inferior, bigger, less, older, younger, contemporary, like, unlike, &c. , to analmost infinite number: he being capable of as many relations as therecan be occasions of comparing him to other things, in any manner ofagreement, disagreement, or respect whatsoever. For, as I said, relationis a way of comparing or considering two things [*dropped line] fromthat comparison; and sometimes giving even the relation itself a name. 8. Our Ideas of Relations often clearer than of the Subjects related. Secondly, This further may be considered concerning relation, thatthough it be not contained in the real existence of things, butsomething extraneous and superinduced, yet the ideas which relativewords stand for are often clearer and more distinct than of thosesubstances to which they do belong. The notion we have of a father orbrother is a great deal clearer and more distinct than that we have of aman; or, if you will, PATERNITY is a thing whereof it is easier to havea clear idea, than of HUMANITY; and I can much easier conceive what afriend is, than what God; because the knowledge of one action, orone simple idea, is oftentimes sufficient to give me the notion of arelation; but to the knowing of any substantial being, an accuratecollection of sundry ideas is necessary. A man, if he compares twothings together, can hardly be supposed not to know what it is whereinhe compares them: so that when he compares any things together, hecannot but have a very clear idea of that relation. THE IDEAS, THEN, OFRELATIONS, ARE CAPABLE AT LEAST OF BEING MORE PERFECT AND DISTINCT INOUR MINDS THAN THOSE OF SUBSTANCES. Because it is commonly hard to knowall the simple ideas which are really in any substance, but for the mostpart easy enough to know the simple ideas that make up any relation Ithink on, or have a name for: v. G. Comparing two men in reference to onecommon parent, it is very easy to frame the ideas of brothers, withouthaving yet the perfect idea of a man. For significant relative words, as well as others, standing only for ideas; and those being all eithersimple, or made up of simple ones, it suffices for the knowing theprecise idea the relative term stands for, to have a clear conception ofthat which is the foundation of the relation; which may be done withouthaving a perfect and clear idea of the thing it is attributed to. Thus, having the notion that one laid the egg out of which the other washatched, I have a clear idea of the relation of DAM and CHICK betweenthe two cassiowaries in St. James's Park; though perhaps I have but avery obscure and imperfect idea of those birds themselves. 9. Relations all terminate in simple Ideas. Thirdly, Though there be a great number of considerations wherein thingsmay be compared one with another, and so a multitude of relations, yetthey all terminate in, and are concerned about those simple ideas, either of sensation or reflection, which I think to be the wholematerials of all our knowledge. To clear this, I shall show it in themost considerable relations that we have any notion of; and in some thatseem to be the most remote from sense or reflection: which yet willappear to have their ideas from thence, and leave it past doubt that thenotions we have of them are but certain simple ideas, and so originallyderived from sense or reflection. 10. Terms leading the Mind beyond the Subject denominated, are relative. Fourthly, That relation being the considering of one thing withanother which is extrinsical to it, it is evident that all words thatnecessarily lead the mind to any other ideas than are supposed really toexist in that thing to which the words are applied are relative words:v. G. A MAN, BLACK, MERRY, THOUGHTFUL, THIRSTY, ANGRY, EXTENDED; these andthe like are all absolute, because they neither signify nor intimateanything but what does or is supposed really to exist in the man thusdenominated; but FATHER, BROTHER, KING, HUSBAND, BLACKER, MERRIER, &c. , are words which, together with the thing they denominate, imply alsosomething else separate and exterior to the existence of that thing. 11. All relatives made up of simple ideas. Having laid down these premises concerning relation in general, I shallnow proceed to show, in some instances, how all the ideas we have ofrelation are made up, as the others are, only of simple ideas; and thatthey all, how refined or remote from sense soever they seem, terminateat last in simple ideas. I shall begin with the most comprehensiverelation, wherein all things that do, or can exist, are concerned, andthat is the relation of CAUSE and EFFECT: the idea whereof, how derivedfrom the two fountains of all our knowledge, sensation and reflection, Ishall in the next place consider. CHAPTER XXVI. OF CAUSE AND EFFECT, AND OTHER RELATIONS. 1. Whence the Ideas of cause and effect got. In the notice that our senses take of the constant vicissitude ofthings, we cannot but observe that several particular, both qualitiesand substances, begin to exist; and that they receive this theirexistence from the due application and operation of some other being. From this observation we get our ideas of CAUSE and EFFECT. THAT WHICHPRODUCES ANY SIMPLE OR COMPLEX IDEA we denote by the general name, CAUSE, and THAT WHICH IS PRODUCED, EFFECT. Thus, finding that in thatsubstance which we call wax, fluidity, which is a simple idea that wasnot in it before, is constantly produced by the application of a certaindegree of heat we call the simple idea of heat, in relation to fluidityin wax, the cause of it, and fluidity the effect. So also, finding thatthe substance, wood, which is a certain collection of simple ideas socalled, by the application of fire, is turned into another substance, called ashes; i. E. , another complex idea, consisting of a collection ofsimple ideas, quite different from that complex idea which we call wood;we consider fire, in relation to ashes, as cause, and the ashes, aseffect. So that whatever is considered by us to conduce or operate tothe producing any particular simple idea, or collection of simple ideas, whether substance or mode, which did not before exist, hath thereby inour minds the relation of a cause, and so is denominated by us. 2. Creation Generation, making Alteration. Having thus, from what our senses are able to discover in the operationsof bodies on one another, got the notion of cause and effect, viz. That a cause is that which makes any other thing, either simple idea, substance, or mode, begin to be; and an effect is that which had itsbeginning from some other thing; the mind finds no great difficulty todistinguish the several originals of things into two sorts:-- First, When the thing is wholly made new, so that no part thereof didever exist before; as when a new particle of matter doth begin to exist, IN RERUM NATURA, which had before no being, and this we call CREATION. Secondly, When a thing is made up of particles, which did all of thembefore exist; but that very thing, so constituted of pre-existingparticles, which, considered all together, make up such a collection ofsimple ideas, had not any existence before, as this man, this egg, rose, or cherry, &c. And this, when referred to a substance, produced in theordinary course of nature by internal principle, but set on work by, andreceived from, some external agent, or cause, and working by insensibleways which we perceive not, we call GENERATION. When the cause isextrinsical, and the effect produced by a sensible separation, orjuxta-position of discernible parts, we call it MAKING; and such are allartificial things. When any simple idea is produced, which was not inthat subject before, we call it ALTERATION. Thus a man is generated, apicture made; and either of them altered, when any new sensible qualityor simple idea is produced in either of them, which was not therebefore: and the things thus made to exist, which were not there before, are effects; and those things which operated to the existence, causes. In which, and all other cases, we may observe, that the notion of causeand effect has its rise from ideas received by sensation or reflection;and that this relation, how comprehensive soever, terminates at last inthem. For to have the idea of cause and effect, it suffices to considerany simple idea or substance, as beginning to exist, by the operation ofsome other, without knowing the manner of that operation. 3. Relations of Time. Time and place are also the foundations of very large relations; and allfinite beings at least are concerned in them. But having alreadyshown in another place how we get those ideas, it may suffice here tointimate, that most of the denominations of things received from TIMEare only relations. Thus, when any one says that Queen Elizabeth livedsixty-nine, and reigned forty-five years, these words import only therelation of that duration to some other, and mean no more but this, Thatthe duration of her existence was equal to sixty-nine, and the durationof her government to forty-five annual revolutions of the sun; and soare all words, answering, HOW LONG? Again, William the Conqueror invadedEngland about the year 1066; which means this, That, taking the durationfrom our Saviour's time till now for one entire great length of time, itshows at what distance this invasion was from the two extremes; and sodo all words of time answering to the question, WHEN, which show onlythe distance of any point of time from the period of a longer duration, from which we measure, and to which we thereby consider it as related. 4. Some ideas of Time supposed positive and found to be relative. There are yet, besides those, other words of time, that ordinarily arethought to stand for positive ideas, which yet will, when considered, befound to be relative; such as are, young, old, &c. , which include andintimate the relation anything has to a certain length of duration, whereof we have the idea in our minds. Thus, having settled in ourthoughts the idea of the ordinary duration of a man to be seventy years, when we say a man is YOUNG, we mean that his age is yet but a small partof that which usually men attain to; and when we denominate him OLD, wemean that his duration is ran out almost to the end of that which mendo not usually exceed. And so it is but comparing the particular age orduration of this or that man, to the idea of that duration which we havein our minds, as ordinarily belonging to that sort of animals: which isplain in the application of these names to other things; for a man iscalled young at twenty years, and very young at seven years old: but yeta horse we call old at twenty, and a dog at seven years, because in eachof these we compare their age to different ideas of duration, which aresettled in our minds as belonging to these several sorts of animals, inthe ordinary course of nature. But the sun and stars, though they haveoutlasted several generations of men, we call not old, because we donot know what period God hath set to that sort of beings. This termbelonging properly to those things which we can observe in the ordinarycourse of things, by a natural decay, to come to an end in a certainperiod of time; and so have in our minds, as it were, a standard towhich we can compare the several parts of their duration; and, by therelation they bear thereunto, call them young or old; which we cannot, therefore, do to a ruby or a diamond, things whose usual periods we knownot. 5. Relations of Place and Extension. The relation also that things have to one another in their PLACES anddistances is very obvious to observe; as above, below, a mile distantfrom Charing-cross, in England, and in London. But as in duration, soin extension and bulk, there are some ideas that are relative which wesignify by names that are thought positive; as GREAT and LITTLE aretruly relations. For here also, having, by observation, settled in ourminds the ideas of the bigness of several species of things from thosewe have been most accustomed to, we make them as it were the standards, whereby to denominate the bulk of others. Thus we call a great apple, such a one as is bigger than the ordinary sort of those we have beenused to; and a little horse, such a one as comes not up to the size ofthat idea which we have in our minds to belong ordinarily to horses; andthat will be a great horse to a Welchman, which is but a little one to aFleming; they two having, from the different breed of their countries, taken several-sized ideas to which they compare, and in relation towhich they denominate their great and their little. 6. Absolute Terms often stand for Relations. So likewise weak and strong are but relative denominations of power, compared to some ideas we have at that time of greater or less power. Thus, when we say a weak man, we mean one that has not so much strengthor power to move as usually men have, or usually those of his size have;which is a comparing his strength to the idea we have of the usualstrength of men, or men of such a size. The like when we say thecreatures are all weak things; weak there is but a relative term, signifying the disproportion there is in the power of God and thecreatures. And so abundance of words, in ordinary speech, stand only forrelations (and perhaps the greatest part) which at first sight seemto have no such signification: v. G. The ship has necessary stores. NECESSARY and STORES are both relative words; one having a relation tothe accomplishing the voyage intended, and the other to future use. All which relations, how they are confined to, and terminate in ideasderived from sensation or reflection, is too obvious to need anyexplication. CHAPTER XXVII. OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 1. Wherein Identity consists. ANOTHER occasion the mind often takes of comparing, is the very being ofthings, when, considering ANYTHING AS EXISTING AT ANY DETERMINED TIMEAND PLACE, we compare it with ITSELF EXISTING AT ANOTHER TIME, andthereon form the ideas of IDENTITY and DIVERSITY. When we see anythingto be in any place in any instant of time, we are sure (be it what itwill) that it is that very thing, and not another which at that sametime exists in another place, how like and undistinguishable soever itmay be in all other respects: and in this consists IDENTITY, when theideas it is attributed to vary not at all from what they were thatmoment wherein we consider their former existence, and to which wecompare the present. For we never finding, nor conceiving it possible, that two things of the same kind should exist in the same place at thesame time, we rightly conclude, that, whatever exists anywhere at anytime, excludes all of the same kind, and is there itself alone. Whentherefore we demand whether anything be the SAME or no, it refers alwaysto something that existed such a time in such a place, which it wascertain, at that instant, was the same with itself, and no other. From whence it follows, that one thing cannot have two beginnings ofexistence, nor two things one beginning; it being impossible for twothings of the same kind to be or exist in the same instant, in thevery same place; or one and the same thing in different places. That, therefore, that had one beginning, is the same thing; and that which hada different beginning in time and place from that, is not the same, butdiverse. That which has made the difficulty about this relation has beenthe little care and attention used in having precise notions of thethings to which it is attributed. 2. Identity of Substances. We have the ideas but of three sorts of substances: 1. GOD. 2. FINITEINTELLIGENCES. 3. BODIES. First, GOD is without beginning, eternal, unalterable, and everywhere, and therefore concerning his identity there can be no doubt. Secondly, FINITE SPIRITS having had each its determinated time and placeof beginning to exist, the relation to that time and place will alwaysdetermine to each of them its identity, as long as it exists. Thirdly, The same will hold of every PARTICLE OF MATTER, to which noaddition or subtraction of matter being made, it is the same. For, though these three sorts of substances, as we term them, do not excludeone another out of the same place, yet we cannot conceive but that theymust necessarily each of them exclude any of the same kind out of thesame place: or else the notions and names of identity and diversitywould be in vain, and there could be no such distinctions of substances, or anything else one from another. For example: could two bodies be inthe same place at the same time; then those two parcels of matter mustbe one and the same, take them great or little; nay, all bodies must beone and the same. For, by the same reason that two particles of mattermay be in one place, all bodies may be in one place: which, when it canbe supposed, takes away the distinction of identity and diversity of oneand more, and renders it ridiculous. But it being a contradiction thattwo or more should be one, identity and diversity are relations and waysof comparing well founded, and of use to the understanding. 3. Identity of modes and relations. All other things being but modes or relations ultimately terminated insubstances, the identity and diversity of each particular existence ofthem too will be by the same way determined: only as to things whoseexistence is in succession, such as are the actions of finite beings, v. G. MOTION and THOUGHT, both which consist in a continued train ofsuccession, concerning THEIR diversity there can be no question: becauseeach perishing the moment it begins, they cannot exist in differenttimes, or in different places, as permanent beings can at differenttimes exist in distant places; and therefore no motion or thought, considered as at different times, can be the same, each part thereofhaving a different beginning of existence. 4. Principium Individuationis. From what has been said, it is easy to discover what is so much inquiredafter, the PRINCIPIUM INDIVIDUATIONIS; and that, it is plain, isexistence itself; which determines a being of any sort to a particulartime and place, incommunicable to two beings of the same kind. This, though it seems easier to conceive in simple substances or modes; yet, when reflected on, is not more difficult in compound ones, if carebe taken to what it is applied: v. G. Let us suppose an atom, i. E. Acontinued body under one immutable superficies, existing in a determinedtime and place; it is evident, that, considered in any instant of itsexistence, it is in that instant the same with itself. For, being atthat instant what it is, and nothing else, it is the same, and so mustcontinue as long as its existence is continued; for so long it will bethe same, and no other. In like manner, if two or more atoms be joinedtogether into the same mass, every one of those atoms will be the same, by the foregoing rule: and whilst they exist united together, the mass, consisting of the same atoms, must be the same mass, or the same body, let the parts be ever so differently jumbled. But if one of these atomsbe taken away, or one new one added, it is no longer the same mass orthe same body. In the state of living creatures, their identity dependsnot on a mass of the same particles, but on something else. For in themthe variation of great parcels of matter alters not the identity: an oakgrowing from a plant to a great tree, and then lopped, is still the sameoak; and a colt grown up to a horse, sometimes fat, sometimes lean, isall the while the same horse: though, in both these cases, there may bea manifest change of the parts; so that truly they are not either ofthem the same masses of matter, though they be truly one of them thesame oak, and the other the same horse. The reason whereof is, that, inthese two cases--a MASS OF MATTER and a LIVING BODY--identity is notapplied to the same thing. 5. Identity of Vegetables. We must therefore consider wherein an oak differs from a mass of matter, and that seems to me to be in this, that the one is only the cohesion ofparticles of matter any how united, the other such a disposition of themas constitutes the parts of an oak; and such an organization of thoseparts as is fit to receive and distribute nourishment, so as to continueand frame the wood, bark, and leaves, &c. , of an oak, in which consiststhe vegetable life. That being then one plant which has such anorganization of parts in one coherent body, partaking of one commonlife, it continues to be the same plant as long as it partakes of thesame life, though that life be communicated to new particles of mattervitally united to the living plant, in a like continued organizationconformable to that sort of plants. For this organization, being atany one instant in any one collection of matter, is in that particularconcrete distinguished from all other, and IS that individual life, which existing constantly from that moment both forwards and backwards, in the same continuity of insensibly succeeding parts united to theliving body of the plant, it has that identity which makes the sameplant, and all the parts of it, parts of the same plant, during all thetime that they exist united in that continued organization, which is fitto convey that common life to all the parts so united. 6. Identity of Animals. The case is not so much different in BRUTES but that any one may hencesee what makes an animal and continues it the same. Something we havelike this in machines, and may serve to illustrate it. For example, what is a watch? It is plain it is nothing but a fit organization orconstruction of parts to a certain end, which, when a sufficient forceis added to it, it is capable to attain. If we would suppose thismachine one continued body, all whose organized parts were repaired, increased, or diminished by a constant addition or separation ofinsensible parts, with one common life, we should have something verymuch like the body of an animal; with this difference, That, in ananimal the fitness of the organization, and the motion wherein lifeconsists, begin together, the motion coming from within; but in machinesthe force coming sensibly from without, is often away when the organ isin order, and well fitted to receive it. 7. The Identity of Man. This also shows wherein the identity of the same MAN consists; viz. Innothing but a participation of the same continued life, by constantlyfleeting particles of matter, in succession vitally united to the sameorganized body. He that shall place the identity of man in anythingelse, but, like that of other animals, in one fitly organized body, taken in any one instant, and from thence continued, under oneorganization of life, in several successively fleeting particles ofmatter united to it, will find it hard to make an embryo, one of years, mad and sober, the SAME man, by any supposition, that will not make itpossible for Seth, Ismael, Socrates, Pilate, St. Austin, and CaesarBorgia, to be the same man. For if the identity of SOUL ALONE makes thesame MAN; and there be nothing in the nature of matter why the sameindividual spirit may not be united to different bodies, it will bepossible that those men, living in distant ages, and of differenttempers, may have been the same man: which way of speaking must be froma very strange use of the word man, applied to an idea out of which bodyand shape are excluded. And that way of speaking would agree yet worsewith the notions of those philosophers who allow of transmigration, andare of opinion that the souls of men may, for their miscarriages, bedetruded into the bodies of beasts, as fit habitations, with organssuited to the satisfaction of their brutal inclinations. But yet I thinknobody, could he be sure that the SOUL of Heliogabalus were in one ofhis hogs, would yet say that hog were a MAN or Heliogabalus. 8. Idea of Identity suited to the Idea it is applied to. It is not therefore unity of substance that comprehends all sorts ofidentity, or will determine it in every case; but to conceive and judgeof it aright, we must consider what idea the word it is applied tostands for: it being one thing to be the same SUBSTANCE, another thesame MAN, and a third the same PERSON, if PERSON, MAN, and SUBSTANCE, are three names standing for three different ideas;--for such as is theidea belonging to that name, such must be the identity; which, if it hadbeen a little more carefully attended to, would possibly have preventeda great deal of that confusion which often occurs about this matter, with no small seeming difficulties, especially concerning PERSONALidentity, which therefore we shall in the next place a little consider. 9. Same man. An animal is a living organized body; and consequently the same animal, as we have observed, is the same continued LIFE communicated todifferent particles of matter, as they happen successively to beunited to that organized living body. And whatever is talked of otherdefinitions, ingenious observation puts it past doubt, that the idea inour minds, of which the sound man in our mouths is the sign, is nothingelse but of an animal of such a certain form. Since I think I may beconfident, that, whoever should see a creature of his own shape or make, though it had no more reason all its life than a cat or a parrot, would call him still a MAN; or whoever should hear a cat or a parrotdiscourse, reason, and philosophize, would call or think it nothing buta CAT or a PARROT; and say, the one was a dull irrational man, and theother a very intelligent rational parrot. 10. Same man. For I presume it is not the idea of a thinking or rational being alonethat makes the IDEA OF A MAN in most people's sense: but of a body, soand so shaped, joined to it; and if that be the idea of a man, thesame successive body not shifted all at once, must, as well as the sameimmaterial spirit, go to the making of the same man. 11. Personal Identity. This being premised, to find wherein personal identity consists, wemust consider what PERSON stands for;--which, I think, is a thinkingintelligent being, that has reason and reflection, and can consideritself as itself, the same thinking thing, in different times andplaces; which it does only by that consciousness which is inseparablefrom thinking, and, as it seems to me, essential to it: it beingimpossible for any one to perceive without PERCEIVING that he doesperceive. When we see, hear, smell, taste, feel, meditate, or willanything, we know that we do so. Thus it is always as to our presentsensations and perceptions: and by this every one is to himself thatwhich he calls SELF:--it not being considered, in this case, whetherthe same self be continued in the same or divers substances. For, sinceconsciousness always accompanies thinking, and it is that which makesevery one to be what he calls self, and thereby distinguishes himselffrom all other thinking things, in this alone consists personalidentity, i. E. The sameness of a rational being: and as far as thisconsciousness can be extended backwards to any past action or thought, so far reaches the identity of that person; it is the same self now itwas then; and it is by the same self with this present one that nowreflects on it, that that action was done. 12. Consciousness makes personal Identity. But it is further inquired, whether it be the same identical substance. This few would think they had reason to doubt of, if these perceptions, with their consciousness, always remained present in the mind, wherebythe same thinking thing would be always consciously present, and, aswould be thought, evidently the same to itself. But that which seems tomake the difficulty is this, that this consciousness being interruptedalways by forgetfulness, there being no moment of our lives wherein wehave the whole train of all our past actions before our eyes in oneview, but even the best memories losing the sight of one part whilstthey are viewing another; and we sometimes, and that the greatest partof our lives, not reflecting on our past selves, being intent on ourpresent thoughts, and in sound sleep having no thoughts at all, or atleast none with that consciousness which remarks our waking thoughts, --Isay, in all these cases, our consciousness being interrupted, and welosing the sight of our past selves, doubts are raised whether we arethe same thinking thing, i. E. The same SUBSTANCE or no. Which, howeverreasonable or unreasonable, concerns not PERSONAL identity at all. Thequestion being what makes the same person; and not whether it be thesame identical substance, which always thinks in the same person, which, in this case, matters not at all: different substances, by the sameconsciousness (where they do partake in it) being united into oneperson, as well as different bodies by the same life are united into oneanimal, whose identity is preserved in that change of substances by theunity of one continued life. For, it being the same consciousness thatmakes a man be himself to himself, personal identity depends on thatonly, whether it be annexed solely to one individual substance, or canbe continued in a succession of several substances. For as far as anyintelligent being CAN repeat the idea of any past action with the sameconsciousness it had of it at first, and with the same consciousness ithas of any present action; so far it is the same personal self. For itis by the consciousness it has of its present thoughts and actions, thatit is SELF TO ITSELF now, and so will be the same self, as far as thesame consciousness can extend to actions past or to come; and would beby distance of time, or change of substance, no more two persons, thana man be two men by wearing other clothes to-day than he did yesterday, with a long or a short sleep between: the same consciousness unitingthose distant actions into the same person, whatever substancescontributed to their production. 13. Personal Identity in Change of Substance. That this is so, we have some kind of evidence in our very bodies, allwhose particles, whilst vitally united to this same thinking consciousself, so that WE FEEL when they are touched, and are affected by, andconscious of good or harm that happens to them, are a part of ourselves;i. E. Of our thinking conscious self. Thus, the limbs of his body are toevery one a part of himself; he sympathizes and is concerned for them. Cut off a hand, and thereby separate it from that consciousness he hadof its heat, cold, and other affections, and it is then no longer a partof that which is himself, any more than the remotest part of matter. Thus, we see the SUBSTANCE whereof personal self consisted at one timemay be varied at another, without the change of personal identity; therebeing no question about the same person, though the limbs which but nowwere a part of it, be cut off. 14. Personality in Change of Substance. But the question is, Whether if the same substance which thinks bechanged, it can be the same person; or, remaining the same, it can bedifferent persons? And to this I answer: First, This can be no question at all to thosewho place thought in a purely material animal constitution, void of animmaterial substance. For, whether their supposition be true or no, itis plain they conceive personal identity preserved in something elsethan identity of substance; as animal identity is preserved in identityof life, and not of substance. And therefore those who place thinking inan immaterial substance only, before they can come to deal with thesemen, must show why personal identity cannot be preserved in thechange of immaterial substances, or variety of particular immaterialsubstances, as well as animal identity is preserved in the change ofmaterial substances, or variety of particular bodies: unless they willsay, it is one immaterial spirit that makes the same life in brutes, asit is one immaterial spirit that makes the same person in men; which theCartesians at least will not admit, for fear of making brutes thinkingthings too. 15. Whether in Change of thinking Substances there can be one Person. But next, as to the first part of the question, Whether, if the samethinking substance (supposing immaterial substances only to think) bechanged, it can be the same person? I answer, that cannot be resolvedbut by those who know there can what kind of substances they are that dothink; and whether the consciousness of past actions can be transferredfrom one thinking substance to another. I grant were the sameconsciousness the same individual action it could not: but it being apresent representation of a past action, why it may not be possible, that that may be represented to the mind to have been which really neverwas, will remain to be shown. And therefore how far the consciousness ofpast actions is annexed to any individual agent, so that another cannotpossibly have it, will be hard for us to determine, till we know whatkind of action it is that cannot be done without a reflex act ofperception accompanying it, and how performed by thinking substances, who cannot think without being conscious of it. But that which we callthe same consciousness, not being the same individual act, why oneintellectual substance may not have represented to it, as doneby itself, what IT never did, and was perhaps done by some otheragent--why, I say, such a representation may not possibly be withoutreality of matter of fact, as well as several representations in dreamsare, which yet whilst dreaming we take for true--will be difficult toconclude from the nature of things. And that it never is so, will by us, till we have clearer views of the nature of thinking substances, bebest resolved into the goodness of God; who, as far as the happiness ormisery of any of his sensible creatures is concerned in it, will not, bya fatal error of theirs, transfer from one to another that consciousnesswhich draws reward or punishment with it. How far this may be anargument against those who would place thinking in a system of fleetinganimal spirits, I leave to be considered. But yet, to return to thequestion before us, it must be allowed, that, if the same consciousness(which, as has been shown, is quite a different thing from the samenumerical figure or motion in body) can be transferred from one thinkingsubstance to another, it will be possible that two thinking substancesmay make but one person. For the same consciousness being preserved, whether in the same or different substances, the personal identity ispreserved. 16. Whether, the same immaterial Substance remaining, therecan be two Persons. As to the second part of the question, Whether the same immaterialsubstance remaining, there may be two distinct persons; which questionseems to me to be built on this, --Whether the same immaterial being, being conscious of the action of its past duration, may be whollystripped of all the consciousness of its past existence, and loseit beyond the power of ever retrieving it again: and so as it werebeginning a new account from a new period, have a consciousness thatCANNOT reach beyond this new state. All those who hold pre-existence areevidently of this mind; since they allow the soul to have no remainingconsciousness of what it did in that pre-existent state, either whollyseparate from body, or informing any other body; and if they should not, it is plain experience would be against them. So that personal identity, reaching no further than consciousness reaches, a pre-existent spiritnot having continued so many ages in a state of silence, must needsmake different persons. Suppose a Christian Platonist or a Pythagoreanshould, upon God's having ended all his works of creation the seventhday, think his soul hath existed ever since; and should imagine ithas revolved in several human bodies; as I once met with one, who waspersuaded his had been the SOUL of Socrates (how reasonably I willnot dispute; this I know, that in the post he filled, which was noinconsiderable one, he passed for a very rational man, and the press hasshown that he wanted not parts or learning;)--would any one say, thathe, being not conscious of any of Socrates's actions or thoughts, couldbe the same PERSON with Socrates? Let any one reflect upon himself, andconclude that he has in himself an immaterial spirit, which is thatwhich thinks in him, and, in the constant change of his body keeps himthe same: and is that which he calls HIMSELF: let his also suppose it tobe the same soul that was in Nestor or Thersites, at the siege of Troy, (for souls being, as far as we know anything of them, in their natureindifferent to any parcel of matter, the supposition has no apparentabsurdity in it, ) which it may have been, as well as it is now the soulof any other man: but he now having no consciousness of any of theactions either of Nestor or Thersites, does or can he conceive himselfthe same person with either of them? Can he be concerned in either oftheir actions? attribute them to himself, or think them his own morethan the actions of any other men that ever existed? So that thisconsciousness, not reaching to any of the actions of either of thosemen, he is no more one SELF with either of them than of the soul ofimmaterial spirit that now informs him had been created, and began toexist, when it began to inform his present body; though it were neverso true, that the same SPIRIT that informed Nestor's or Thersites' bodywere numerically the same that now informs his. For this would no moremake him the same person with Nestor, than if some of the particles ofsmaller that were once a part of Nestor were now a part of this manthe same immaterial substance, without the same consciousness, no moremaking the same person, by being united to any body, than the sameparticle of matter, without consciousness, united to any body, makesthe same person. But let him once find himself conscious of any of theactions of Nestor, he then finds himself the same person with Nestor. 17. The body, as well as the soul, goes to the making of a Man. And thus may we be able, without any difficulty, to conceive the sameperson at the resurrection, though in a body not exactly in make orparts the same which he had here, --the same consciousness going alongwith the soul that inhabits it. But yet the soul alone, in the change ofbodies, would scarce to any one but to him that makes the soul theman, be enough to make the same man. For should the soul of a prince, carrying with it the consciousness of the prince's past life, enter andinform the body of a cobbler, as soon as deserted by his own soul, everyone sees he would be the same PERSON with the prince, accountable onlyfor the prince's actions: but who would say it was the same MAN? Thebody too goes to the making the man, and would, I guess, to everybodydetermine the man in this case, wherein the soul, with all its princelythoughts about it, would not make another man: but he would be the samecobbler to every one besides himself. I know that, in the ordinary wayof speaking, the same person, and the same man, stand for one and thesame thing. And indeed every one will always have a liberty to speak ashe pleases, and to apply what articulate sounds to what ideas he thinksfit, and change them as often as he pleases. But yet, when we willinquire what makes the same SPIRIT, MAN, or PERSON, we must fix theideas of spirit, man, or person in our minds; and having resolved withourselves what we mean by them, it will not be hard to determine, ineither of them, or the like, when it is the same, and when not. 18. Consciousness alone unites actions into the same Person. But though the same immaterial substance or soul does not alone, wherever it be, and in whatsoever state, make the same MAN; yet it isplain, consciousness, as far as ever it can be extended--should it be toages past--unites existences and actions very remote in time into thesame PERSON, as well as it does the existences and actions of theimmediately preceding moment: so that whatever has the consciousness ofpresent and past actions, is the same person to whom they both belong. Had I the same consciousness that I saw the ark and Noah's flood, asthat I saw an overflowing of the Thames last winter, or as that I writenow, I could no more doubt that I who write this now, that saw theThames overflowed last winter, and that viewed the flood at the generaldeluge, was the same SELF, --place that self in what SUBSTANCE youplease--than that I who write this am the same MYSELF now whilst I write(whether I consist of all the same substance material or immaterial, orno) that I was yesterday. For as to this point of being the same self, it matters not whether this present self be made up of the same or othersubstances--I being as much concerned, and as justly accountable forany action that was done a thousand years since, appropriated to me nowby this self-consciousness, as I am for what I did the last moment. 19. Self depends on Consciousness, not on Substance. SELF is that conscious thinking thing, --whatever substance made upof, (whether spiritual or material, simple or compounded, it mattersnot)--which is sensible or conscious of pleasure and pain, capable ofhappiness or misery, and so is concerned for itself, as far as thatconsciousness extends. Thus every one finds that, whilst comprehendedunder that consciousness, the little finger is as much a part of himselfas what is most so. Upon separation of this little finger, should thisconsciousness go along with the little finger, and leave the rest ofthe body, it is evident the little finger would be the person, the sameperson; and self then would have nothing to do with the rest of thebody. As in this case it is the consciousness that goes along with thesubstance, when one part is separate from another, which makes the sameperson, and constitutes this inseparable self: so it is in reference tosubstances remote in time. That with which the consciousness of thispresent thinking thing CAN join itself, makes the same person, and isone self with it, and with nothing else; and so attributes to itself, and owns all the actions of that thing, as its own, as far as thatconsciousness reaches, and no further; as every one who reflects willperceive. 20. Persons, not Substances, the Objects of Reward and Punishment. In this personal identity is founded all the right and justice of rewardand punishment; happiness and misery being that for which every one isconcerned for HIMSELF, and not mattering what becomes of any SUBSTANCE, not joined to, or affected with that consciousness. For, as it isevident in the instance I gave but now, if the consciousness went alongwith the little finger when it was cut off, that would be the same selfwhich was concerned for the whole body yesterday, as making part ofitself, whose actions then it cannot but admit as its own now. Though, if the same body should still live, and immediately from the separationof the little finger have its own peculiar consciousness, whereof thelittle finger knew nothing, it would not at all be concerned for it, asa part of itself, or could own any of its actions, or have any of themimputed to him. 21. Which shows wherein Personal identity consists. This may show us wherein personal identity consists: not in the identityof substance, but, as I have said, in the identity of consciousness, wherein if Socrates and the present mayor of Queenborough agree, theyare the same person: if the same Socrates waking and sleeping do notpartake of the same consciousness, Socrates waking and sleeping isnot the same person. And to punish Socrates waking for what sleepingSocrates thought, and waking Socrates was never conscious of, would beno more of right, than to punish one twin for what his brother-twin did, whereof he knew nothing, because their outsides were so like, that theycould not be distinguished; for such twins have been seen. 22. Absolute oblivion separates what is thus forgotten from the person, but not from the man. But yet possibly it will still be objected, --Suppose I wholly lose thememory of some parts of my life, beyond a possibility of retrievingthem, so that perhaps I shall never be conscious of them again; yet amI not the same person that did those actions, had those thoughts that Ionce was conscious of, though I have now forgot them? To which I answer, that we must here take notice what the word _I_ is applied to; which, inthis case, is the MAN only. And the same man being presumed to be thesame person, I is easily here supposed to stand also for the sameperson. But if it be possible for the same man to have distinctincommunicable consciousness at different times, it is past doubt thesame man would at different times make different persons; which, we see, is the sense of mankind in the solemnest declaration of their opinions, human laws not punishing the mad man for the sober man's actions, nor the sober man for what the mad man did, --thereby making them twopersons: which is somewhat explained by our way of speaking in Englishwhen we say such an one is 'not himself, ' or is 'beside himself'; inwhich phrases it is insinuated, as if those who now, or at least firstused them, thought that self was changed; the selfsame person was nolonger in that man. 23. Difference between Identity of Man and of Person. But yet it is hard to conceive that Socrates, the same individual man, should be two persons. To help us a little in this, we must considerwhat is meant by Socrates, or the same individual MAN. First, it must be either the same individual, immaterial, thinkingsubstance; in short, the same numerical soul, and nothing else. Secondly, or the same animal, without any regard to an immaterial soul. Thirdly, or the same immaterial spirit united to the same animal. Now, take which of these suppositions you please, it is impossible tomake personal identity to consist in anything but consciousness; orreach any further than that does. For, by the first of them, it must be allowed possible that a man bornof different women, and in distant times, may be the same man. A way ofspeaking which, whoever admits, must allow it possible for the same manto be two distinct persons, as any two that have lived in different ageswithout the knowledge of one another's thoughts. By the second and third, Socrates, in this life and after it, cannot bethe same man any way, but by the same consciousness; and so makinghuman identity to consist in the same thing wherein we place personalidentity, there will be difficulty to allow the same man to be the sameperson. But then they who place human identity in consciousness only, and not in something else, must consider how they will make the infantSocrates the same man with Socrates after the resurrection. Butwhatsoever to some men makes a man, and consequently the same individualman, wherein perhaps few are agreed, personal identity can by us beplaced in nothing but consciousness, (which is that alone which makeswhat we call SELF, ) without involving us in great absurdities. 24. But is not a man drunk and sober the same person? why else is hepunished for the fact he commits when drunk, though he be neverafterwards conscious of it? Just as much the same person as a man thatwalks, and does other things in his sleep, is the same person, and isanswerable for any mischief he shall do in it. Human laws punish both, with a justice suitable to THEIR way of knowledge;--because, in thesecases, they cannot distinguish certainly what is real, what counterfeit:and so the ignorance in drunkenness or sleep is not admitted as a plea. But in the Great Day, wherein the secrets of all hearts shall be laidopen, it may be reasonable to think, no one shall be made to answer forwhat he knows nothing of; but shall receive his doom, his conscienceaccusing or excusing him. 25. Consciousness alone unites remote existences into one Person. Nothing but consciousness can unite remote existences into the sameperson: the identity of substance will not do it; for whatever substancethere is, however framed, without consciousness there is no person:and a carcass may be a person, as well as any sort of substance be so, without consciousness. Could we suppose two distinct incommunicable consciousnesses acting thesame body, the one constantly by day, the other by night; and, on theother side, the same consciousness, acting by intervals, two distinctbodies: I ask, in the first case, whether the day and the night--manwould not be two as distinct persons as Socrates and Plato? And whether, in the second case, there would not be one person in two distinctbodies, as much as one man is the same in two distinct clothings? Noris it at all material to say, that this same, and this distinctconsciousness, in the cases above mentioned, is owing to the same anddistinct immaterial substances, bringing it with them to those bodies;which, whether true or no, alters not the case: since it is evident thepersonal identity would equally be determined by the consciousness, whether that consciousness were annexed to some individual immaterialsubstance or no. For, granting that the thinking substance in man mustbe necessarily supposed immaterial, it is evident that immaterialthinking thing may sometimes part with its past consciousness, and berestored to it again: as appears in the forgetfulness men often have oftheir past actions; and the mind many times recovers the memory of apast consciousness, which it had lost for twenty years together. Make these intervals of memory and forgetfulness to take their turnsregularly by day and night, and you have two persons with the sameimmaterial spirit, as much as in the former instance two persons withthe same body. So that self is not determined by identity or diversityof substance, which it cannot be sure of, but only by identity ofconsciousness. 26. Not the substance with which the consciousness may be united. Indeed it may conceive the substance whereof it is now made up to haveexisted formerly, united in the same conscious being: but, consciousnessremoved, that substance is no more itself, or makes no more a part ofit, than any other substance; as is evident in the instance we havealready given of a limb cut off, of whose heat, or cold, or otheraffections, having no longer any consciousness, it is no more of a man'sself than any other matter of the universe. In like manner it will bein reference to any immaterial substance, which is void of thatconsciousness whereby I am myself to myself: so that I cannot uponrecollection join with that present consciousness whereby I am nowmyself, it is, in that part of its existence, no more MYSELF than anyother immaterial being. For, whatsoever any substance has thought ordone, which I cannot recollect, and by my consciousness make my ownthought and action, it will no more belong to me, whether a part of methought or did it, than if it had been thought or done by any otherimmaterial being anywhere existing. 27. Consciousness unites substances, material or spiritual, with thesame personality. I agree, the more probable opinion is, that this consciousness isannexed to, and the affection of, one individual immaterial substance. But let men, according to their diverse hypotheses, resolve of that asthey please. This every intelligent being, sensible of happiness ormisery, must grant--that there is something that is HIMSELF, that he isconcerned for, and would have happy; that this self has existed in acontinued duration more than one instant, and therefore it is possiblemay exist, as it has done, months and years to come, without any certainbounds to be set to its duration; and may be the same self, by thesame consciousness continued on for the future. And thus, by thisconsciousness he finds himself to be the same self which did such andsuch an action some years since, by which he comes to be happy ormiserable now. In all which account of self, the same numericalSUBSTANCE is not considered a making the same self; but the samecontinued CONSCIOUSNESS, in which several substances may have beenunited, and again separated from it, which, whilst they continued in avital union with that wherein this consciousness then resided, made apart of that same self. Thus any part of our bodies, vitally unitedto that which is conscious in us, makes a part of ourselves: butupon separation from the vital union by which that consciousness iscommunicated, that which a moment since was part of ourselves, is now nomore so than a part of another man's self is a part of me: and it isnot impossible but in a little time may become a real part of anotherperson. And so we have the same numerical substance become a part of twodifferent persons; and the same person preserved under the change ofvarious substances. Could we suppose any spirit wholly stripped of allits memory of consciousness of past actions, as we find our minds alwaysare of a great part of ours, and sometimes of them all; the union orseparation of such a spiritual substance would make no variation ofpersonal identity, any more than that of any particle of matter does. Any substance vitally united to the present thinking being is a partof that very same self which now is; anything united to it by aconsciousness of former actions, makes also a part of the same self, which is the same both then and now. 28. Person a forensic Term. PERSON, as I take it, is the name for this self. Wherever a man findswhat he calls himself, there, I think, another may say is the sameperson. It is a forensic term, appropriating actions and their merit;and so belongs only to intelligent agents, capable of a law, andhappiness, and misery. This personality extends itself beyond presentexistence to what is past, only by consciousness, --whereby it becomesconcerned and accountable; owns and imputes to itself past actions, justupon the same ground and for the same reason as it does the present. Allwhich is founded in a concern for happiness, the unavoidable concomitantof consciousness; that which is conscious of pleasure and pain, desiringthat that self that is conscious should be happy. And therefore whateverpast actions it cannot reconcile or APPROPRIATE to that present self byconsciousness, it can be no more concerned in than if they had neverbeen done: and to receive pleasure or pain, i. E. Reward or punishment, on the account of any such action, is all one as to be made happy ormiserable in its first being, without any demerit at all. For, supposinga MAN punished now for what he had done in another life, whereof hecould be made to have no consciousness at all, what difference is therebetween that punishment and being CREATED miserable? And therefore, conformable to this, the apostle tells us, that, at the great day, whenevery one shall 'receive according to his doings, the secrets of allhearts shall be laid open. ' The sentence shall be justified by theconsciousness all persons shall have, that THEY THEMSELVES, in whatbodies soever they appear, or what substances soever that consciousnessadheres to, are the SAME that committed those actions, and deserve thatpunishment for them. 29. Suppositions that look strange are pardonable in our ignorance. I am apt enough to think I have, in treating of this subject, made somesuppositions that will look strange to some readers, and possibly theyare so in themselves. But yet, I think they are such as are pardonable, in this ignorance we are in of the nature of that thinking thing that isin us, and which we look on as OURSELVES. Did we know what it was; orhow it was tied to a certain system of fleeting animal spirits; orwhether it could or could not perform its operations of thinking andmemory out of a body organized as ours is; and whether it has pleasedGod that no one such spirit shall ever be united to any but one suchbody, upon the right constitution of whose organs its memory shoulddepend; we might see the absurdity of some of those suppositions I havemade. But taking, as we ordinarily now do (in the dark concerning thesematters, ) the soul of a man for an immaterial substance, independentfrom matter, and indifferent alike to it all; there can, from the natureof things, be no absurdity at all to suppose that the same SOUL may atdifferent times be united to different BODIES, and with them make upfor that time one MAN: as well as we suppose a part of a sheep's bodyyesterday should be a part of a man's body to-morrow, and in that unionmake a vital part of Meliboeus himself, as well as it did of his ram. 30. The Difficulty from ill Use of Names. To conclude: Whatever substance begins to exist, it must, during itsexistence, necessarily be the same: whatever compositions of substancesbegin to exist, during the union of those substances, the concrete mustbe the same: whatsoever mode begins to exist, during its existence itis the same: and so if the composition be of distinct substances anddifferent modes, the same rule holds. Whereby it will appear, that thedifficulty or obscurity that has been about this matter rather risesfrom the names ill-used, than from any obscurity in things themselves. For whatever makes the specific idea to which the name is applied, ifthat idea be steadily kept to, the distinction of anything into the sameand divers will easily be conceived, and there can arise no doubt aboutit. 31. Continuance of that which we have made to be our complex idea of manmakes the same man. For, supposing a rational spirit be the idea of a MAN, it is easy toknow what is the same man, viz. The same spirit--whether separate or ina body--will be the SAME MAN. Supposing a rational spirit vitally unitedto a body of a certain conformation of parts to make a man; whilst thatrational spirit, with that vital conformation of parts, though continuedin a fleeting successive body, remains, it will be the SAME MAN. Butif to any one the idea of a man be but the vital union of parts ina certain shape; as long as that vital union and shape remain in aconcrete, no otherwise the same but by a continued succession offleeting particles, it will be the SAME MAN. For, whatever be thecomposition whereof the complex idea is made, whenever existence makesit one particular thing under any denomination, THE SAME EXISTENCECONTINUED preserves it the SAME individual under the same denomination. CHAPTER XXVIII. OF OTHER RELATIONS. 1. Ideas of Proportional relations. BESIDES the before-mentioned occasions of time, place, and causality ofcomparing or referring things one to another, there are, as I have said, infinite others, some whereof I shall mention. First, The first I shall name is some one simple idea, which, beingcapable of parts or degrees, affords an occasion of comparing thesubjects wherein it is to one another, in respect of that simple idea, v. G. Whiter, sweeter, equal, more, &c. These relations depending on theequality and excess of the same simple idea, in several subjects, may becalled, if one will, PROPORTIONAL; and that these are only conversantabout those simple ideas received from sensation or reflection is soevident that nothing need be said to evince it. 2. Natural relation. Secondly, Another occasion of comparing things together, or consideringone thing, so as to include in that consideration some other thing, is the circumstances of their origin or beginning; which being notafterwards to be altered, make the relations depending thereon aslasting as the subjects to which they belong, v. G. Father and son, brothers, cousin-germans, &c. , which have their relations by onecommunity of blood, wherein they partake in several degrees: countrymen, i. E. Those who were born in the same country or tract of ground; andthese I call NATURAL RELATIONS: wherein we may observe, that mankindhave fitted their notions and words to the use of common life, and notto the truth and extent of things. For it is certain, that, in reality, the relation is the same betwixt the begetter and the begotten, in theseveral races of other animals as well as men; but yet it is seldomsaid, this bull is the grandfather of such a calf, or that two pigeonsare cousin-germans. It is very convenient that, by distinct names, theserelations should be observed and marked out in mankind, there beingoccasion, both in laws and other communications one with another, tomention and take notice of men under these relations: from whence alsoarise the obligations of several duties amongst men: whereas, in brutes, men having very little or no cause to mind these relations, they havenot thought fit to give them distinct and peculiar names. This, by theway, may give us some light into the different state and growth oflanguages; which being suited only to the convenience of communication, are proportioned to the notions men have, and the commerce of thoughtsfamiliar amongst them; and not to the reality or extent of things, norto the various respects might be found among them; nor the differentabstract considerations might be framed about them. Where they had nophilosophical notions, there they had no terms to express them: and itis no wonder men should have framed no names for those things they foundno occasion to discourse of. From whence it is easy to imagine why, asin some countries, they may have not so much as the name for a horse;and in others, where they are more careful of the pedigrees of theirhorses, than of their own, that there they may have not only names forparticular horses, but also of their several relations of kindred one toanother. 3. Ideas of Instituted of Voluntary relations. Thirdly, Sometimes the foundation of considering things with referenceto one another, is some act whereby any one comes by a moral right, power, or obligation to do something. Thus, a general is one that hathpower to command an army, and an army under a general is a collection ofarmed men obliged to obey one man. A citizen, or a burgher, is one whohas a right to certain privileges in this or that place, All this sortdepending upon men's wills, or agreement in society, I call INSTITUTED, or VOLUNTARY; and may be distinguished from the natural, in that theyare most, if not all of them, some way or other alterable, and separablefrom the persons to whom they have sometimes belonged, though neitherof the substances, so related, be destroyed. Now, though these are allreciprocal, as well as the rest, and contain in them a reference of twothings one to the other; yet, because one of the two things often wantsa relative name, importing that reference, men usually take no notice ofit, and the relation is commonly overlooked: v. G. A patron and clientare easily allowed to be relations, but a constable or dictator are notso readily at first hearing considered as such. Because there is nopeculiar name for those who are under the command of a dictator orconstable, expressing a relation to either of them; though it be certainthat either of them hath a certain power over some others, and so is sofar related to them, as well as a patron is to his client, or general tohis army. 4. Ideas of Moral relations. Fourthly, There is another sort of relation, which is the conformity ordisagreement men's VOLUNTARY ACTIONS have to a RULE to which they arereferred, and by which they are judged of; which, I think, may be calledMORAL RELATION, as being that which denominates our moral actions, anddeserves well to be examined; there being no part of knowledge whereinwe should be more careful to get determined ideas, and avoid, as much asmay be, obscurity and confusion. Human actions, when with their variousends, objects, manners, and circumstances, they are framed into distinctcomplex ideas, are, as has been shown, so many MIXED MODES, a great partwhereof have names annexed to them. Thus, supposing gratitude to be areadiness to acknowledge and return kindness received; polygamy to bethe having more wives than one at once: when we frame these notions thusin our minds, we have there so many determined ideas of mixed modes. But this is not all that concerns our actions: it is not enough to havedetermined ideas of them, and to know what names belong to such and suchcombinations of ideas. We have a further and greater concernment, andthat is, to know whether such actions, so made up, are morally good orbad. 5. Moral Good and Evil. Good and evil, as hath been shown, (B. II. Chap. Xx. Section 2, andchap. Xxi. Section 43, ) are nothing but pleasure or pain, or that whichoccasions or procures pleasure or pain to us. MORAL GOOD AND EVIL, then, is only THE CONFORMITY OR DISAGREEMENT OF OUR VOLUNTARY ACTIONS TO SOMELAW, WHEREBY GOOD OR EVIL IS DRAWN ON US, FROM THE WILL AND POWER OFTHE LAW-MAKER; which good and evil, pleasure or pain, attending ourobservance or breach of the law by the decree of the law-maker, is thatwe call REWARD and PUNISHMENT. 6. Moral Rules. Of these moral rules or laws, to which men generally refer, and by whichthey judge of the rectitude or gravity of their actions, there seemto me to be THREE SORTS, with their three different enforcements, orrewards and punishments. For, since it would be utterly in vain tosuppose a rule set to the free actions of men, without annexing toit some enforcement of good and evil to determine his will, we must, wherever we suppose a law, suppose also some reward or punishmentannexed to that law. It would be in vain for one intelligent being toset a rule to the actions of another, if he had it not in his power toreward the compliance with, and punish deviation from his rule, by somegood and evil, that is not the natural product and consequence of theaction itself. For that, being a natural convenience or inconvenience, would operate of itself, without a law. This, if I mistake not, is thetrue nature of all law, properly so called. 7. Laws. The laws that men generally refer their actions to, to judge of theirrectitude or obliquity, seem to me to be these three:--1. The DIVINElaw. 2. The CIVIL law. 3. The law of OPINION or REPUTATION, if I mayso call it. By the relation they bear to the first of these, men judgewhether their actions are sins or duties; by the second, whether theybe criminal or innocent; and by the third, whether they be virtues orvices. 8. Divine Law the Measure of Sin and Duty. First, the DIVINE LAW, whereby that law which God has set to the actionsof men, --whether promulgated to them by the light of nature, or thevoice of revelation. That God has given a rule whereby men should governthemselves, I think there is nobody so brutish as to deny. He has aright to do it; we are his creatures: he has goodness and wisdom todirect our actions to that which is best: and he has power to enforce itby rewards and punishments of infinite weight and duration in anotherlife; for nobody can take us out of his hands. This is the only truetouchstone of moral rectitude; and, by comparing them to this law, itis that men judge of the most considerable moral good or evil of theiractions; that is, whether, as duties or sins, they are like to procurethem happiness or misery from the hands of the ALMIGHTY. 9. Civil Law the Measure of Crimes and Innocence. Secondly, the CIVIL LAW--the rule set by the commonwealth to the actionsof those who belong to it--is another rule to which men refer theiractions; to judge whether they be criminal or no. This law nobodyoverlooks: the rewards and punishments that enforce it being ready athand, and suitable to the power that makes it: which is the force of theCommonwealth, engaged to protect the lives, liberties, and possessionsof those who live according to its laws, and has power to take awaylife, liberty, or goods, from him who disobeys; which is the punishmentof offences committed against his law. 10. Philosophical Law the Measure of Virtue and Vice. Thirdly, the LAW OF OPINION OR REPUTATION. Virtue and vice are namespretended and supposed everywhere to stand for actions in their ownnature right and wrong: and as far as they really are so applied, theyso far are coincident with the divine law above mentioned. But yet, whatever is pretended, this is visible, that these names, virtue andvice, in the particular instances of their application, through theseveral nations and societies of men in the world, are constantlyattributed only to such actions as in each country and society are inreputation or discredit. Nor is it to be thought strange, that meneverywhere should give the name of virtue to those actions, whichamongst them are judged praiseworthy; and call that vice, which theyaccount blamable: since otherwise they would condemn themselves, if theyshould think anything right, to which they allowed not commendation, anything wrong, which they let pass without blame. Thus the measureof what is everywhere called and esteemed virtue and vice is thisapprobation or dislike, praise or blame, which, by a secret and tacitconsent, establishes itself in the several societies, tribes, and clubsof men in the world: whereby several actions come to find credit ordisgrace amongst them, according to the judgment, maxims, or fashionof that place. For, though men uniting into politic societies, haveresigned up to the public the disposing of all their force, so that theycannot employ it against any fellow-citizens any further than the lawof the country directs: yet they retain still the power of thinking wellor ill, approving or disapproving of the actions of those whom they liveamongst, and converse with: and by this approbation and dislike theyestablish amongst themselves what they will call virtue and vice. 11. The Measure that Man commonly apply to determine what they callVirtue and Vice. That this is the common MEASURE of virtue and vice, will appear to anyone who considers, that, though that passes for vice in one countrywhich is counted a virtue, or at least not vice, in another, yeteverywhere virtue and praise, vice and blame, go together. Virtue iseverywhere, that which is thought praiseworthy; and nothing else butthat which has the allowance of public esteem is called virtue. Virtueand praise are so united, that they are called often by the same name. Sunt sua praemia laudi, says Virgil; and so Cicero, Nihil habet naturapraestantius, quam honestatem, quam laudem, quam dignitatem, quamdecus, which he tells you are all names for the same thing. This is thelanguage of the heathen philosophers, who well understood whereintheir notions of virtue and vice consisted. And though perhaps, by thedifferent temper, education, fashion, maxims, or interest of differentsorts of men, it fell out, that what was thought praiseworthy in oneplace, escaped not censure in another; and so in different societies, virtues and vices were changed; yet, as to the main, they for the mostpart kept the same everywhere. For, since nothing can be more naturalthan to encourage with esteem and reputation that wherein every onefinds his advantage, and to blame and discountenance the contrary; it isno wonder that esteem and discredit, virtue and vice, should, in a greatmeasure, everywhere correspond with the unchangeable rule of right andwrong, which the law of God hath established; there being nothing thatso directly and visible secures and advances the general good of mankindin this world, as obedience to the laws he had set them, and nothingthat breeds such mischiefs and confusion, as the neglect of them. Andtherefore men, without renouncing all sense and reason, and their owninterest, which they are so constantly true to, could not generallymistake, in placing their commendation and blame on that side thatreally deserved it not. Nay, even those men whose practice wasotherwise, failed not to give their approbation right, few beingdepraved to that degree as not to condemn, at least in others, thefaults they themselves were guilty of; whereby, even in the corruptionof manners, the true boundaries of the law of nature, which ought to bethe rule of virtue and vice, were pretty well preferred. So that eventhe exhortations of inspired teachers, have not feared to appeal tocommon repute: 'Whatsoever is lovely, whatsoever is of good report, ifthere be any virtue, if there be any praise, ' &c. (Phil. Iv. 8. ) 12. Its Inforcement is Commendation and Discredit. If any one shall imagine that I have forgot my own notion of a law, whenI make the law, whereby men judge of virtue and vice, to be nothing elsebut the consent of private men, who have not authority enough to make alaw: especially wanting that which is so necessary and essential to alaw, a power to enforce it: I think I may say, that he who imaginescommendation and disgrace not to be strong motives to men to accommodatethemselves to the opinions and rules of those with whom they converse, seems little skilled in the nature or history of mankind: the greatestpart whereof we shall find to govern themselves chiefly, if not solely, by this LAW OF FASHION; and so they do that which keeps them inreputation with their company, little regard the laws of God, or themagistrate. The penalties that attend the breach of God's laws some, nayperhaps most men, seldom seriously reflect on: and amongst those thatdo, many, whilst they break the law, entertain thoughts of futurereconciliation, and making their peace for such breaches. And as tothe punishments due from the laws of the commonwealth, they frequentlyflatter themselves with the hopes of impunity. But no man escapes thepunishment of their censure and dislike, who offends against the fashionand opinion of the company he keeps, and would recommend himself to. Noris there one of ten thousand, who is stiff and insensible enough, tobear up under the constant dislike and condemnation of his own club. Hemust be of a strange and unusual constitution, who can content himselfto live in constant disgrace and disrepute with his own particularsociety. Solitude many men have sought, and been reconciled to: butnobody that has the least thought or sense of a man about him, can livein society under the constant dislike and ill opinion of his familiars, and those he converses with. This is a burden too heavy for humansufferance: and he must be made up of irreconcileable contradictions, who can take pleasure in company, and yet be insensible of contempt anddisgrace from his companions. 13. These three Laws the Rules of moral Good and Evil. These three then, first, the law of God; secondly, the law of politicsocieties; thirdly, the law of fashion, or private censure, are those towhich men variously compare their actions: and it is by their conformityto one of these laws that they take their measures, when they wouldjudge of their moral rectitude, and denominate their actions good orbad. 14. Morality is the Relation of Voluntary Actions to these Rules. Whether the rule to which, as to a touchstone, we bring our voluntaryactions, to examine them by, and try their goodness, and accordingly toname them, which is, as it were, the mark of the value we set upon them:whether, I say, we take that rule from the fashion of the country, orthe will of a law-maker, the mind is easily able to observe the relationany action hath to it, and to judge whether the action agrees ordisagrees with the rule; and so hath a notion of moral goodness or evil, which is either conformity or not conformity of any action to that rule:and therefore is often called moral rectitude. This rule being nothingbut a collection of several simple ideas, the conformity thereto isbut so ordering the action, that the simple ideas belonging to it maycorrespond to those which the law requires. And thus we see how moralbeings and notions are founded on, and terminated in, these simple ideaswe have received from sensation or reflection. For example: let usconsider the complex idea we signify by the word murder: and when wehave taken it asunder, and examined all the particulars, we shall findthem to amount to a collection of simple ideas derived from reflectionor sensation, viz. First, from REFLECTION on the operations of our ownminds, we have the ideas of willing, considering, purposing beforehand, malice, or wishing ill to another; and also of life, or perception, andself-motion. Secondly, from SENSATION we have the collection of thosesimple sensible ideas which are to be found in a man, and of someaction, whereby we put an end to perception and motion in the man; allwhich simple ideas are comprehended in the word murder. This collectionof simple ideas, being found by me to agree or disagree with the esteemof the country I have been bred in, and to be held by most men thereworthy praise or blame, I call the action virtuous or vicious: if Ihave the will of a supreme invisible Lawgiver for my rule, then, as Isupposed the action commanded or forbidden by God, I call it good orevil, sin or duty: and if I compare it to the civil law, the rule madeby the legislative power of the country, I call it lawful or unlawful, a crime or no crime. So that whencesoever we take the rule of moralactions; or by what standard soever we frame in our minds the ideas ofvirtues or vices, they consist only, and are made up of collections ofsimple ideas, which we originally received from sense or reflection: andtheir rectitude or obliquity consists in the agreement or disagreementwith those patterns prescribed by some law. 15. Moral actions may be regarded wither absolutely, or as ideas ofrelation. To conceive rightly of moral actions, we must take notice of them underthis two-fold consideration. First, as they are in themselves, each madeup of such a collection of simple ideas. Thus drunkenness, or lying, signify such or such a collection of simple ideas, which I call mixedmodes: and in this sense they are as much POSITIVE ABSOLUTE ideas, asthe drinking of a horse, or speaking of a parrot. Secondly, our actionsare considered as good, bad, or indifferent; and in this respect theyare RELATIVE, it being their conformity to, or disagreement with somerule that makes them to be regular or irregular, good or bad; and so, asfar as they are compared with a rule, and thereupon denominated, theycome under relation. Thus the challenging and fighting with a man, as itis a certain positive mode, or particular sort of action, by particularideas, distinguished from all others, is called DUELLING: which, whenconsidered in relation to the law of God, will deserve the name of sin;to the law of fashion, in some countries, valour and virtue; and to themunicipal laws of some governments, a capital crime. In this case, when the positive mode has one name, and another name as it stands inrelation to the law, the distinction may as easily be observed as it isin substances, where one name, v. G. MAN, is used to signify the thing;another, v. G. FATHER, to signify the relation. 16. The Denominations of Actions often mislead us. But because very frequently the positive idea of the action, and itsmoral relation, are comprehended together under one name, and the sameword made use of to express both the mode or action, and its moralrectitude or obliquity: therefore the relation itself is less takennotice of; and there is often no distinction made between the positiveidea of the action, and the reference it has to a rule. By whichconfusion of these two distinct considerations under one term, those whoyield too easily to the impressions of sounds, and are forward to takenames for things, are often misled in their judgment of actions. Thus, the taking from another what is his, without his knowledge or allowance, is properly called STEALING: but that name, being commonly understoodto signify also the moral gravity of the action, and to denote itscontrariety to the law, men are apt to condemn whatever they hear calledstealing, as an ill action, disagreeing with the rule of right. And yetthe private taking away his sword from a madman, to prevent his doingmischief, though it be properly denominated stealing, as the name ofsuch a mixed mode; yet when compared to the law of God, and consideredin its relation to that supreme rule, it is no sin or transgression, though the name stealing ordinarily carries such an intimation with it. 17. Relations innumerable, and only the most considerable herementioned. And thus much for the relation of human actions to a law, which, therefore, I call MORAL RELATIONS. It would make a volume to go over all sorts of RELATIONS: it is not, therefore, to be expected that I should here mention them all. Itsuffices to our present purpose to show by these, what the ideas are wehave of this comprehensive consideration called RELATION. Which is sovarious, and the occasions of it so many, (as many as there can be ofcomparing things one to another, ) that it is not very easy to reduce itto rules, or under just heads. Those I have mentioned, I think, aresome of the most considerable; and such as may serve to let us see fromwhence we get our ideas of relations, and wherein they are founded. Butbefore I quit this argument, from what has been said give me leave toobserve: 18. All Relations terminate in simple Ideas. First, That it is evident, that all relation terminates in, and isultimately founded on, those simple ideas we have got from sensation orreflection: so that all we have in our thoughts ourselves, (if we thinkof anything, or have any meaning, ) or would signify to others, when weuse words standing for relations, is nothing but some simple ideas, or collections of simple ideas, compared one with another. This is somanifest in that sort called proportional, that nothing can be more. For when a man says 'honey is sweeter than wax, ' it is plain that histhoughts in this relation terminate in this simple idea, sweetness;which is equally true of all the rest: though, where they arecompounded, or decompounded, the simple ideas they are made up of, are, perhaps, seldom taken notice of: v. G. When the word father is mentioned:first, there is meant that particular species, or collective idea, signified by the word man; secondly, those sensible simple ideas, signified by the word generation; and, thirdly, the effects of it, andall the simple ideas signified by the word child. So the word friend, being taken for a man who loves and is ready to do good to another, hasall these following ideas to the making of it up: first, all the simpleideas, comprehended in the word man, or intelligent being; secondly, theidea of love; thirdly, the idea of readiness or disposition; fourthly, the idea of action, which is any kind of thought or motion; fifthly, theidea of good, which signifies anything that may advance his happiness, and terminates at last, if examined, in particular simple ideas, ofwhich the word good in general signifies any one; but, if removed fromall simple ideas quite, it signifies nothing at all. And thus alsoall moral words terminate at last, though perhaps more remotely, in acollection of simple ideas: the immediate signification of relativewords, being very often other supposed known relations; which, if tracedone to another, still end in simple ideas. 19. We have ordinarily as clear a Notion of the Relation, as of thesimple ideas in things on which it is founded. Secondly, That in relations, we have for the most part, if not always, as clear a notion of THE RELATION as we have of THOSE SIMPLE IDEASWHEREIN IT IS FOUNDED: agreement or disagreement, whereon relationdepends, being things whereof we have commonly as clear ideas as of anyother whatsoever; it being but the distinguishing simple ideas, ortheir degrees one from another, without which we could have no distinctknowledge at all. For, if I have a clear idea of sweetness, light, orextension, I have, too, of equal, or more, or less, of each of these: ifI know what it is for one man to be born of a woman, viz. Sempronia, Iknow what it is for another man to be born of the same woman Sempronia;and so have as clear a notion of brothers as of births, and perhapsclearer. For it I believed that Sempronia digged Titus out of theparsley-bed, (as they used to tell children, ) and thereby became hismother; and that afterwards, in the same manner, she digged Caius outof the parsley-bed, I has as clear a notion of the relation of brothersbetween them, as it I had all the skill of a midwife: the notion thatthe same woman contributed, as mother, equally to their births, (thoughI were ignorant or mistaken in the manner of it, ) being that on whichI grounded the relation; and that they agreed in the circumstance ofbirth, let it be what it will. The comparing them then in their descentfrom the same person, without knowing the particular circumstances ofthat descent, is enough to found my notion of their having, or nothaving, the relation of brothers. But though the ideas of PARTICULARRELATIONS are capable of being as clear and distinct in the minds ofthose who will duly consider them as those of mixed modes, and moredeterminate than those of substances: yet the names belonging torelation are often of as doubtful and uncertain signification as thoseof substances or mixed modes; and much more than those of simple ideas. Because relative words, being the marks of this comparison, which ismade only by men's thoughts, and is an idea only in men's minds, menfrequently apply them to different comparisons of things, according totheir own imaginations; which do not always correspond with those ofothers using the same name. 20. The Notion of Relation is the same, whether the Rule any Action iscompared to be true or false. Thirdly, That in these I call MORAL RELATIONS, I have a true notion ofrelation, by comparing the action with the rule, whether the rule betrue or false. For if I measure anything by a yard, I know whether thething I measure be longer or shorter than that supposed yard, thoughperhaps the yard I measure by be not exactly the standard: which indeedis another inquiry. For though the rule be erroneous, and I mistaken init; yet the agreement or disagreement observable in that which I comparewith, makes me perceive the relation. Though, measuring by a wrongrule, I shall thereby be brought to judge amiss of its moral rectitude;because I have tried it by that which is not the true rule: yet I am notmistaken in the relation which that action bears to that rule I compareit to, which is agreement or disagreement. CHAPTER XXIX. OF CLEAR AND OBSCURE, DISTINCT AND CONFUSED IDEAS. 1. Ideas, come clear and distinct, others obscure and confused. Having shown the original of our ideas, and taken a view of theirseveral sorts; considered the difference between the simple and thecomplex; and observed how the complex ones are divided into those ofmodes, substances, and relations--all which, I think, is necessaryto be done by any one who would acquaint himself thoroughly with theprogress of the mind, in its apprehension and knowledge of things--itwill, perhaps, be thought I have dwelt long enough upon the examinationof IDEAS. I must, nevertheless, crave leave to offer some few otherconsiderations concerning them. The first is, that some are CLEAR and others OBSCURE; some DISTINCT andothers CONFUSED. 2. Clear and obscure explained by Sight. The perception of the mind being most aptly explained by words relatingto the sight, we shall best understand what is meant by CLEAR andOBSCURE in our ideas, by reflecting on what we call clear and obscurein the objects of sight. Light being that which discovers to us visibleobjects, we give the name of OBSCURE to that which is not placed in alight sufficient to discover minutely to us the figure and colourswhich are observable in it, and which, in a better light, would bediscernible. In like manner, our simple ideas are CLEAR, when they aresuch as the objects themselves from whence they were taken did or might, in a well-ordered sensation or perception, present them. Whilst thememory retains them thus, and can produce them to the mind whenever ithas occasion to consider them, they are clear ideas. So far as theyeither want anything of the original exactness, or have lost any oftheir first freshness, and are, as it were, faded or tarnished by time, so far are they obscure. Complex ideas, as they are made up of simpleones, so they are clear, when the ideas that go to their compositionare clear, and the number and order of those simple ideas that are theingredients of any complex one is determinate and certain. 3. Causes of Obscurity. The causes of obscurity, in simple ideas, seem to be either dull organs;or very slight and transient impressions made by the objects; or elsea weakness in the memory, not able to retain them as received. For toreturn again to visible objects, to help us to apprehend this matter. If the organs, or faculties of perception, like wax over-hardened withcold, will not receive the impression of the seal, from the usualimpulse wont to imprint it; or, like wax of a temper too soft, will nothold it well, when well imprinted; or else supposing the wax of a temperfit, but the seal not applied with a sufficient force to make a clearimpression: in any of these cases, the print left by the seal will beobscure. This, I suppose, needs no application to make it plainer. 4. Distinct and confused, what. As a clear idea is that whereof the mind has such a full and evidentperception, as it does receive from an outward object operating dulyon a well-disposed organ, so a DISTINCT idea is that wherein the mindperceives a difference from all other; and a CONFUSED idea is such anone as is not sufficiently distinguishable from another, from which itought to be different. 5. Objection. If no idea be confused, but such as is not sufficiently distinguishablefrom another from which it should be different, it will be hard, may anyone say, to find anywhere a CONFUSED idea. For, let any idea be as itwill, it can be no other but such as the mind perceives it to be; andthat very perception sufficiently distinguishes it from all other ideas, which cannot be other, i. E. Different, without being perceived to be so. No idea, therefore, can be undistinguishable from another from which itought to be different, unless you would have it different from itself:for from all other it is evidently different. 6. Confusion of Ideas is in Reference to their Names. To remove this difficulty, and to help us to conceive aright what it isthat makes the confusion ideas are at any time chargeable with, we mustconsider, that things ranked under distinct names are supposed differentenough to be distinguished, that so each sort by its peculiar name maybe marked, and discoursed of apart upon any occasion: and there isnothing more evident, than that the greatest part of different names aresupposed to stand for different things. Now every idea a man has, beingvisibly what it is, and distinct from all other ideas but itself; thatwhich makes it confused, is, when it is such that it may as well becalled by another name as that which it is expressed by; the differencewhich keeps the things (to be ranked under those two different names)distinct, and makes some of them belong rather to the one and someof them to the other of those names, being left out; and so thedistinction, which was intended to be kept up by those different names, is quite lost. 7. Defaults which make this Confusion. The defaults which usually occasion this confusion, I think, are chieflythese following: First, complex ideas made up of too few simple ones. First, when any complex idea (for it is complex ideas that are mostliable to confusion) is made up of too small a number of simple ideas, and such only as are common to other things, whereby the differencesthat make it deserve a different name, are left out. Thus, he that hasan idea made up of barely the simple ones of a beast with spots, hasbut a confused idea of a leopard; it not being thereby sufficientlydistinguished from a lynx, and several other sorts of beasts that arespotted. So that such an idea, though it hath the peculiar name leopard, is not distinguishable from those designed by the names lynx or panther, and may as well come under the name lynx as leopard. How much the customof defining of words by general terms contributes to make the ideaswe would express by them confused and undetermined, I leave others toconsider. This is evident, that confused ideas are such as render theuse of words uncertain, and take away the benefit of distinct names. When the ideas, for which we use different terms, have not a differenceanswerable to their distinct names, and so cannot be distinguished bythem, there it is that they are truly confused. 8. Secondly, or their simple ones jumbled disorderly together. Secondly, Another fault which makes our ideas confused is, when, thoughthe particulars that make up any idea are in number enough, yet they areso jumbled together, that it is not easily discernible whether it morebelongs to the name that is given it than to any other. There is nothingproperer to make us conceive this confusion than a sort of pictures, usually shown as surprising pieces of art, wherein the colours, asthey are laid by the pencil on the table itself, mark out very odd andunusual figures, and have no discernible order in their position. Thisdraught, thus made up of parts wherein no symmetry nor order appears, isin itself no more a confused thing, than the picture of a cloudy sky;wherein, though there be as little order of colours or figures to befound, yet nobody thinks it a confused picture. What is it, then, thatmakes it be thought confused, since the want of symmetry does not? As itis plain it does not: for another draught made barely in imitation ofthis could not be called confused. I answer, That which makes it bethought confused is, the applying it to some name to which it does nomore discernibly belong than to some other: v. G. When it is said to bethe picture of a man, or Caesar, then any one with reason counts itconfused; because it is not discernible in that state to belong more tothe name man, or Caesar, than to the name baboon, or Pompey: which aresupposed to stand for different ideas from those signified by man, orCaesar. But when a cylindrical mirror, placed right, had reduced thoseirregular lines on the table into their due order and proportion, thenthe confusion ceases, and the eye presently sees that it is a man, orCaesar; i. E. That it belongs to those names; and that it is sufficientlydistinguishable from a baboon, or Pompey; i. E. From the ideas signifiedby those names. Just thus it is with our ideas, which are as it were thepictures of things. No one of these mental draughts, however theparts are put together, can be called confused (for they are plainlydiscernible as they are) till it be ranked under some ordinary name towhich it cannot be discerned to belong, any more than it does to someother name of an allowed different signification. 9. Thirdly, or their simple ones mutable and undetermined. Thirdly, A third defect that frequently gives the name of confused toour ideas, is, when any one of them is uncertain and undetermined. Thuswe may observe men who, not forbearing to use the ordinary words oftheir language till they have learned their precise signification, change the idea they make this or that term stand for, almost as oftenas they use it. He that does this out of uncertainty of what he shouldleave out, or put into his idea of CHURCH, or IDOLATRY, every time hethinks of either, and holds not steady to any one precise combination ofideas that makes it up, is said to have a confused idea of idolatry orthe church: though this be still for the same reason as the former, viz. Because a mutable idea (if we will allow it to be one idea) cannotbelong to one name rather than another, and so loses the distinctionthat distinct names are designed for. 10. Confusion without Reference to Names, hardly conceivable. By what has been said, we may observe how much NAMES, as supposed steadysigns of things, and by their difference to stand for, and keepthings distinct that in themselves are different, are the occasion ofdenominating ideas distinct or confused, by a secret and unobservedreference the mind makes of its ideas to such names. This perhaps willbe fuller understood, after what I say of Words in the third Book hasbeen read and considered. But without taking notice of such a referenceof ideas to distinct names, as the signs of distinct things, it will behard to say what a confused idea is. And therefore when a man designs, by any name, a sort of things, or any one particular thing, distinctfrom all others, the complex idea he annexes to that name is the moredistinct, the more particular the ideas are, and the greater and moredeterminate the number and order of them is, whereof it is made up. For, the more it has of these, the more it has still of the perceivabledifferences, whereby it is kept separate and distinct from all ideasbelonging to other names, even those that approach nearest to it, andthereby all confusion with them is avoided. 11. Confusion concerns always two Ideas. Confusion making it a difficulty to separate two things that should beseparated, concerns always two ideas; and those most which most approachone another. Whenever, therefore, we suspect any idea to be confused, wemust examine what other it is in danger to be confounded with, or whichit cannot easily be separated from; and that will always be found anidea belonging to another name, and so should be a different thing, fromwhich yet it is not sufficiently distinct: being either the same withit, or making a part of it, or at least as properly called by that nameas the other it is ranked under; and so keeps not that difference fromthat other idea which the different names import. 12. Causes of confused Ideas. This, I think, is the confusion proper to ideas; which still carrieswith it a secret reference to names. At least, if there be any otherconfusion of ideas, this is that which most of all disorders men'sthoughts and discourses: ideas, as ranked under names, being those thatfor the most part men reason of within themselves, and always thosewhich they commune about with others. And therefore where there aresupposed two different ideas, marked by two different names, which arenot as distinguishable as the sounds that stand for them, there neverfails to be confusion; and where any ideas are distinct as the ideasof those two sounds they are marked by, there can be between them noconfusion. The way to prevent it is to collect and unite into onecomplex idea, as precisely as is possible, all those ingredients wherebyit is differenced from others; and to them, so united in a determinatenumber and order, apply steadily the same name. But this neitheraccommodating men's ease or vanity, nor serving any design but that ofnaked truth, which is not always the thing aimed at, such exactness israther to be wished than hoped for. And since the loose application ofnames, to undetermined, variable, and almost no ideas, serves both tocover our own ignorance, as well as to perplex and confound others, which goes for learning and superiority in knowledge, it is no wonderthat most men should use it themselves, whilst they complain of it inothers. Though I think no small part of the confusion to be found in thenotions of men might, by care and ingenuity, be avoided, yet I am farfrom concluding it everywhere wilful. Some ideas are so complex, andmade up of so many parts, that the memory does not easily retain thevery same precise combination of simple ideas under one name: much lessare we able constantly to divine for what precise complex idea such aname stands in another man's use of it. From the first of these, followsconfusion in a man's own reasonings and opinions within himself; fromthe latter, frequent confusion in discoursing and arguing with others. But having more at large treated of Words, their defects, and abuses, inthe following Book, I shall here say no more of it. 13. Complex Ideas may be distinct in one Part, and confused in another. Our complex ideas, being made up of collections, and so variety ofsimple ones, may accordingly be very clear and distinct in one part, and very obscure and confused in another. In a man who speaks of achiliaedron, or a body of a thousand sides, the ideas of the figure maybe very confused, though that of the number be very distinct; so thathe being able to discourse and demonstrate concerning that part of hiscomplex idea which depends upon the number of thousand, he is apt tothink he has a distinct idea of a chiliaedron; though it be plain he hasno precise idea of its figure, so as to distinguish it, by that, fromone that has but 999 sides: the not observing whereof causes no smallerror in men's thoughts, and confusion in their discourses. 14. This, if not heeded, causes Confusion in our Arguings. He that thinks he has a distinct idea of the figure of a chiliaedron, let him for trial sake take another parcel of the same uniform matter, viz. Gold or wax of an equal bulk, and make it into a figure of 999sides. He will, I doubt not, be able to distinguish these two ideas onefrom another, by the number of sides; and reason and argue distinctlyabout them, whilst he keeps his thoughts and reasoning to that part onlyof these ideas which is contained in their numbers; as that the sides ofthe one could be divided into two equal numbers, and of the others not, &c. But when he goes about to distinguish them by their figure, he willthere be presently at a loss, and not be able, I think, to frame in hismind two ideas, one of them distinct from the other, by the bare figureof these two pieces of gold; as he could, if the same parcels of goldwere made one into a cube, the other a figure of five sides. In whichincomplete ideas, we are very apt to impose on ourselves, and wranglewith others, especially where they have particular and familiar names. For, being satisfied in that part of the idea which we have clear; andthe name which is familiar to us, being applied to the whole, containingthat part also which is imperfect and obscure, we are apt to use it forthat confused part, and draw deductions from it in the obscure part ofits signification, as confidently as we do from the other. 15. Instance in Eternity. Having frequently in our mouths the name Eternity, we are apt to thinkwe have a positive comprehensive idea of it, which is as much as to say, that there is no part of that duration which is not clearly containedin our idea. It is true that he that thinks so may have a clear ideaof duration; he may also have a clear idea of a very great length ofduration; he may also have a clear idea of the comparison of that greatone with still a greater: but it not being possible for him to includein his idea of any duration, let it be as great as it will, the WHOLEEXTENT TOGETHER OF A DURATION, WHERE HE SUPPOSES NO END, that part ofhis idea, which is still beyond the bounds of that large duration herepresents to his own thoughts, is very obscure and undetermined. Andhence it is that in disputes and reasonings concerning eternity, or anyother infinite, we are very apt to blunder, and involve ourselves inmanifest absurdities. 16. Infinite Divisibility of Matter. In matter, we have no clear ideas of the smallness of parts much beyondthe smallest that occur to any of our senses: and therefore, when wetalk of the divisibility of matter IN INFINITUM, though we have clearideas of division and divisibility, and have also clear ideas of partsmade out of a whole by division; yet we have but very obscure andconfused ideas of corpuscles, or minute bodies, so to be divided, when, by former divisions, they are reduced to a smallness much exceedingthe perception of any of our senses; and so all that we have clear anddistinct ideas of is of what division in general or abstractedly is, andthe relation of TOTUM and PARS: but of the bulk of the body, to be thusinfinitely divided after certain progressions, I think, we have noclear nor distinct idea at all. For I ask any one, whether, taking thesmallest atom of dust he ever saw, he has any distinct idea (batingstill the number, which concerns not extension) betwixt the 100, 000thand the 1, 000, 000th part of it. Or if he think he can refine his ideasto that degree, without losing sight of them, let him add ten cyphers toeach of those numbers. Such a degree of smallness is not unreasonable tobe supposed; since a division carried on so far brings it no nearer theend of infinite division, than the first division into two halves does. I must confess, for my part, I have no clear distinct ideas of thedifferent bulk or extension of those bodies, having but a very obscureone of either of them. So that, I think, when we talk of division ofbodies in infinitum, our idea of their distinct bulks, which is thesubject and foundation of division, comes, after a little progression, to be confounded, and almost lost in obscurity. For that idea which isto represent only bigness must be very obscure and confused, which wecannot distinguish from one ten times as big, but only by number: sothat we have clear distinct ideas, we may say, of ten and one, but nodistinct ideas of two such extensions. It is plain from hence, that, when we talk of infinite divisibility of body or extension, our distinctand clear ideas are only of numbers: but the clear distinct ideas ofextension, after some progress of division, are quite lost; and of suchminute parts we have no distinct ideas at all; but it returns, as allour ideas of infinite do, at last to that of NUMBER ALWAYS TO BE ADDED;but thereby never amounts to any distinct idea of ACTUAL INFINITE PARTS. We have, it is true, a clear idea of division, as often as we thinkof it; but thereby we have no more a clear idea of infinite parts inmatter, than we have a clear idea of an infinite number, by being ablestill to add new numbers to any assigned numbers we have: endlessdivisibility giving us no more a clear and distinct idea of actuallyinfinite parts, than endless addibility (if I may so speak) gives us aclear and distinct idea of an actually infinite number: they both beingonly in a power still of increasing the number, be it already as greatas it will. So that of what remains to be added (WHEREIN CONSISTS THEINFINITY) we have but an obscure, imperfect, and confused idea; from orabout which we can argue or reason with no certainty or clearness, nomore than we can in arithmetic, about a number of which we have no suchdistinct idea as we have of 4 or 100; but only this relative obscureone, that, compared to any other, it is still bigger: and we have nomore a clear positive idea of it, when we [dropped line*] than if weshould say it is bigger than 40 or 4: 400, 000, 000 having no nearer aproportion to the end of addition or number than 4. For he that addsonly 4 to 4, and so proceeds, shall as soon come to the end of alladdition, as he that adds 400, 000, 000 to 400, 000, 000. And so likewise ineternity; he that has an idea of but four years, has as much a positivecomplete idea of eternity, as he that has one of 400, 000, 000 of years:for what remains of eternity beyond either of these two numbers ofyears, is as clear to the one as the other; i. E. Neither of them has anyclear positive idea of it at all. For he that adds only 4 years to 4, and so on, shall as soon reach eternity as he that adds 400, 000, 000 ofyears, and so on; or, if he please, doubles the increase as often as hewill: the remaining abyss being still as far beyond the end of all theseprogressions as it is from the length of a day or an hour. For nothingfinite bears any proportion to infinite; and therefore our ideas, which are all finite, cannot bear any. Thus it is also in our idea ofextension, when we increase it by addition, as well as when we diminishit by division, and would enlarge our thoughts to infinite space. Aftera few doublings of those ideas of extension, which are the largest weare accustomed to have, we lose the clear distinct idea of that space:it becomes a confusedly great one, with a surplus of still greater;about which, when we would argue or reason, we shall always findourselves at a loss; confused ideas, in our arguings and deductions fromthat part of them which is confused, always leading us into confusion. CHAPTER XXX. OF REAL AND FANTASTICAL IDEAS. 1. Ideas considered in reference to their Archetypes. Besides what we have already mentioned concerning ideas, otherconsiderations belong to them, in reference to THINGS FROM WHENCE THEYARE TAKEN, or WHICH THEY MAY BE SUPPOSED TO REPRESENT; and thus, Ithink, they may come under a threefold distinction, and are:--First, either real or fantastical; Secondly, adequate or inadequate; Thirdly, true or false. First, by REAL IDEAS, I mean such as have a foundation in nature; suchas have a conformity with the real being and existence of things, orwith their archetypes. FANTASTICAL or CHIMERICAL, I call such as have nofoundation in nature, nor have any conformity with that reality ofbeing to which they are tacitly referred, as to their archetypes. If weexamine the several sorts of ideas before mentioned, we shall find that, 2. Simple Ideas are all real appearances of things. First, Our SIMPLE IDEAS are all real, all agree to the reality ofthings: not that they are all of them the images or representations ofwhat does exist; the contrary whereof, in all but the primary qualitiesof bodies, hath been already shown. But, though whiteness and coldnessare no more in snow than pain is; yet those ideas of whiteness andcoldness, pain, &c. , being in us the effects of powers in things withoutus, ordained by our Maker to produce in us such sensations; they arereal ideas in us, whereby we distinguish the qualities that are reallyin things themselves. For, these several appearances being designed tobe the mark whereby we are to know and distinguish things which we haveto do with, our ideas do as well serve us to that purpose, and are asreal distinguishing characters, whether they be only CONSTANT EFFECTS, or else EXACT RESEMBLANCES of something in the things themselves: thereality lying in that steady correspondence they have with the distinctconstitutions of real beings. But whether they answer to thoseconstitutions, as to causes or patterns, it matters not; it sufficesthat they are constantly produced by them. And thus our simple ideasare all real and true, because they answer and agree to those powers ofthings which produce them on our minds; that being all that is requisiteto make them real, and not fictions at pleasure. For in simple ideas (ashas been shown) the mind is wholly confined to the operation of thingsupon it, and can make to itself no simple idea, more than what it wasreceived. 3. Complex Ideas are voluntary Combinations. Though the mind be wholly passive in respect of its simple ideas; yet, I think, we may say it is not so in respect of its complex ideas. Forthose being combinations of simple ideas put together, and united underone general name, it is plain that the mind of man uses some kind ofliberty in forming those complex ideas: how else comes it to pass thatone man's idea of gold, or justice, is different from another's, butbecause he has put in, or left out of his, some simple idea which theother has not? The question then is, Which of these are real, and whichbarely imaginary combinations? What collections agree to the reality ofthings, and what not? And to this I say that, 4. Mixed Modes and Relations, made of consistent Ideas, are real. Secondly, MIXED MODES and RELATIONS, having no other reality but whatthey have in the minds of men, there is nothing more required to thiskind of ideas to make them real, but that they be so framed, thatthere be a possibility of existing conformable to them. These ideasthemselves, being archetypes, cannot differ from their archetypes, andso cannot be chimerical, unless any one will jumble together in theminconsistent ideas. Indeed, as any of them have the names of a knownlanguage assigned to them, by which he that has them in his mind wouldsignify them to others, so bare possibility of existing is not enough;they must have a conformity to the ordinary signification of the namethat is given them, that they may not be thought fantastical: as if aman would give the name of justice to that idea which common use callsliberality. But this fantasticalness relates more to propriety ofspeech, than reality of ideas. For a man to be undisturbed in danger, sedately to consider what is fittest to be done, and to execute itsteadily, is a mixed mode, or a complex idea of an action which mayexist. But to be undisturbed in danger, without using one's reason orindustry, is what is also possible to be; and so is as real an idea asthe other. Though the first of these, having the name COURAGE given toit, may, in respect of that name, be a right or wrong idea; but theother, whilst it has not a common received name of any known languageassigned to it, is not capable of any deformity, being made with noreference to anything but itself. 5. Complex Ideas of Substances are real, when they agree with theexistence of Things. Thirdly, Our complex ideas of SUBSTANCES, being made all of themin reference to things existing without us, and intended to berepresentations of substances as they really are, are no further realthan as they are such combinations of simple ideas as are reallyunited, and co-exist in things without us. On the contrary, those arefantastical which are made up of such collections of simple ideas aswere really never united, never were found together in any substance: v. G. A rational creature, consisting of a horse's head, joined to a bodyof human shape, or such as the CENTAURS are described: or, a bodyyellow, very malleable, fusible, and fixed, but lighter than commonwater: or an uniform, unorganized body, consisting, as to sense, allof similar parts, with perception and voluntary motion joined to it. Whether such substances as these can possibly exist or no, it isprobable we do not know: but be that as it will, these ideas ofsubstances, being made conformable to no pattern existing that we know;and consisting of such collections of ideas as no substance ever showedus united together, they ought to pass with us for barely imaginary:but much more are those complex ideas so, which contain in them anyinconsistency or contradiction of their parts. CHAPTER XXXI. OF ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS. 1. Adequate Ideas are such as perfectly represent their Archetypes. Of our real ideas, some are adequate, and some are inadequate. Those Icall ADEQUATE, which perfectly represent those archetypes which the mindsupposes them taken from: which it intends them to stand for, and towhich it refers them. INADEQUATE IDEAS are such, which are but a partialor incomplete representation of those archetypes to which they arereferred. Upon which account it is plain, 2. Adequate Ideas are such as perfectly represent their Archetypes. Simple Ideas all adequate. First, that ALL OUR SIMPLE IDEAS ARE ADEQUATE. Because, being nothingbut the effects of certain powers in things, fitted and ordained by Godto produce such sensations in us, they cannot but be correspondent andadequate to those powers: and we are sure they agree to the reality ofthings. For, if sugar produce in us the ideas which we call whitenessand sweetness, we are sure there is a power in sugar to produce thoseideas in our minds, or else they could not have been produced by it. And so each sensation answering the power that operates on any of oursenses, the idea so produced is a real idea, (and not a fiction of themind, which has no power to produce any simple idea); and cannot but beadequate, since it ought only to answer that power: and so all simpleideas are adequate. It is true, the things producing in us these simpleideas are but few of them denominated by us, as if they were only theCAUSES of them; but as if those ideas were real beings IN them. For, though fire be called painful to the touch, whereby is signified thepower of producing in us the idea of pain, yet it is denominated alsolight and hot; as if light and heat were really something in the fire, more than a power to excite these ideas in us; and therefore are calledqualities in or of the fire. But these being nothing, in truth, butpowers to excite such ideas in us, I must in that sense be understood, when I speak of secondary qualities as being in things; or of theirideas as being the objects that excite them in us. Such ways ofspeaking, though accommodated to the vulgar notions, without which onecannot be well understood, yet truly signify nothing but those powerswhich are in things to excite certain sensations or ideas in us. Sincewere there no fit organs to receive the impressions fire makes on thesight and touch, nor a mind joined to those organs to receive the ideasof light and heat by those impressions from the fire or sun, there wouldyet be no more light or heat in the world than there would be painif there were no sensible creature to feel it, though the sun shouldcontinue just as it is now, and Mount AEtna flame higher than ever itdid. Solidity and extension, and the termination of it, figure, withmotion and rest, whereof we have the ideas, would be really in the worldas they are, whether there were any sensible being to perceive themor no: and therefore we have reason to look on those as the realmodifications of matter, and such as are the exciting causes of all ourvarious sensations from bodies. But this being an inquiry not belongingto this place, I shall enter no further into it, but proceed to showwhat complex ideas are adequate, and what not. 3. Modes are all adequate. Secondly, OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF MODES, being voluntary collections ofsimple ideas, which the mind puts together, without reference to anyreal archetypes, or standing patterns, existing anywhere, are and cannotbut be ADEQUATE IDEAS. Because they, not being intended for copies ofthings really existing, but for archetypes made by the mind, to rank anddenominate things by, cannot want anything; they having each of themthat combination of ideas, and thereby that perfection, which the mindintended they should: so that the mind acquiesces in them, and can findnothing wanting. Thus, by having the idea of a figure with three sidesmeeting at three angles, I have a complete idea, wherein I requirenothing else to make it perfect. That the mind is satisfied with theperfection of this its idea is plain, in that it does not conceive thatany understanding hath, or can have, a more complete or perfect idea ofthat thing it signifies by the word triangle, supposing it to exist, than itself has, in that complex idea of three sides and three angles, in which is contained all that is or can be essential to it, ornecessary to complete it, wherever or however it exists. But in ourIDEAS OF SUBSTANCES it is otherwise. For there, desiring to copy thingsas they really do exist, and to represent to ourselves that constitutionon which all their properties depend, we perceive our ideas attain notthat perfection we intend: we find they still want something we shouldbe glad were in them; and so are all inadequate. But MIXED MODES andRELATIONS, being archetypes without patterns, and so having nothing torepresent but themselves, cannot but be adequate, everything being soto itself. He that at first put together the idea of danger perceived, absence of disorder from fear, sedate consideration of what was justlyto be done, and executing that without disturbance, or being deterred bythe danger of it, had certainly in his mind that complex idea made up ofthat combination: and intending it to be nothing else but what is, norto have in it any other simple ideas but what it hath, it could not alsobut be an adequate idea: and laying this up in his memory, with the nameCOURAGE annexed to it, to signify to others, and denominate from thenceany action he should observe to agree with it, had thereby a standard tomeasure and denominate actions by, as they agreed to it. This idea, thusmade and laid up for a pattern, must necessarily be adequate, beingreferred to nothing else but itself, nor made by any other original butthe good liking and will of him that first made this combination. 4. Modes, in reference to settled Names, may be inadequate. Indeed another coming after, and in conversation learning from him theword COURAGE, may make an idea, to which he gives the name courage, different from what the first author applied it to, and has in hismind when he uses it. And in this case, if he designs that his idea inthinking should be conformable to the other's idea, as the name he usesin speaking is conformable in sound to his from whom he learned it, hisidea may be very wrong and inadequate: because in this case, making theother man's idea the pattern of his idea in thinking, as the other man'sword or sound is the pattern of his in speaking, his idea is so fardefective and inadequate, as it is distant from the archetype andpattern he refers it to, and intends to express and signify by the namehe uses for it; which name he would have to be a sign of the other man'sidea, (to which, in its proper use, it is primarily annexed, ) and of hisown, as agreeing to it: to which if his own does not exactly correspond, it is faulty and inadequate. 5. Because then means, in propriety of speech, to correspond to theideas in some other mind. Therefore these complex ideas of MODES, which they are referred by themind, and intended to correspond to the ideas in the mind of some otherintelligent being, expressed by the names we apply to them, they may bevery deficient, wrong, and inadequate; because they agree not to thatwhich the mind designs to be their archetype and pattern: in whichrespect only any idea of modes can be wrong, imperfect, or inadequate. And on this account our ideas of mixed modes are the most liable tobe faulty of any other; but this refers more to proper speaking thanknowing right. 6. Ideas of Substances, as referred to real Essences, not adequate. Thirdly, what IDEAS WE HAVE OF SUBSTANCES, I have above shown. Now, those ideas have in the mind a double reference: 1. Sometimes theyare referred to a supposed real essence of each species of things. 2. Sometimes they are only designed to be pictures and representations inthe mind of things that do exist, by ideas of those qualities that arediscoverable in them. In both which ways these copies of those originalsand archetypes are imperfect and inadequate. First, it is usual for men to make the names of substances stand forthings as supposed to have certain real essences, whereby they are ofthis or that species: and names standing for nothing but the ideas thatare in men's minds, they must constantly refer their ideas to such realessences, as to their archetypes. That men (especially such as have beenbred up in the learning taught in this part of the world) do supposecertain specific essences of substances, which each individual in itsseveral kinds is made conformable to and partakes of, is so far fromneeding proof that it will be thought strange if any one should dootherwise. And thus they ordinarily apply the specific names they rankparticular substances under, to things as distinguished by such specificreal essences. Who is there almost, who would not take it amiss ifit should be doubted whether he called himself a man, with any othermeaning than as having the real essence of a man? And yet if you demandwhat those real essences are, it is plain men are ignorant, and knowthem not. From whence it follows, that the ideas they have in theirminds, being referred to real essences, as to archetypes which areunknown, must be so far from being adequate that they cannot be supposedto be any representation of them at all. The complex ideas we have ofsubstances are, as it has been shown, certain collections of simpleideas that have been observed or supposed constantly to exist together. But such a complex idea cannot be the real essence of any substance;for then the properties we discover in that body would depend on thatcomplex idea, and be deducible from it, and their necessary connexionwith it be known; as all properties of a triangle depend on, and, as faras they are discoverable, are deducible from the complex idea of threelines including a space. But it is plain that in our complex ideasof substances are not contained such ideas, on which all the otherqualities that are to be found in them do depend. The common idea menhave of iron is, a body of a certain colour, weight, and hardness; and aproperty that they look on as belonging to it, is malleableness. But yetthis property has no necessary connexion with that complex idea, or anypart of it: and there is no more reason to think that malleablenessdepends on that colour, weight, and hardness, than that colour or thatweight depends on its malleableness. And yet, though we know nothing ofthese real essences, there is nothing more ordinary than that men shouldattribute the sorts of things to such essences. The particular parcel ofmatter which makes the ring I have on my finger is forwardly by most mensupposed to have a real essence, whereby it is gold; and from whencethose qualities flow which I find in it, viz. Its peculiar colour, weight, hardness, fusibility, fixedness, and change of colour upona slight touch of mercury, &c. This essence, from which all theseproperties flow, when I inquire into it and search after it, I plainlyperceive I cannot discover: the furthest I can go is, only to presumethat, it being nothing but body, its real essence or internalconstitution, on which these qualities depend, can be nothing but thefigure, size, and connexion of its solid parts; of neither of whichhaving any distinct perception at all can I have any idea of itsessence: which is the cause that it has that particular shiningyellowness; a greater weight than anything I know of the same bulk; anda fitness to have its colour changed by the touch of quicksilver. If anyone will say, that the real essence and internal constitution, on whichthese properties depend, is not the figure, size, and arrangement orconnexion of its solid parts, but something else, called its particularFORM, I am further from having any idea of its real essence than I wasbefore. For I have an idea of figure, size, and situation of solidparts in general, though I have none of the particular figure, size, orputting together of parts, whereby the qualities above mentioned areproduced; which qualities I find in that particular parcel of matterthat is on my finger, and not in another parcel of matter, with which Icut the pen I write with. But, when I am told that something besidesthe figure, size, and posture of the solid parts of that body in itsessence, something called SUBSTANTIAL FORM, of that I confess I have noidea at all, but only of the sound form; which is far enough from anidea of its real essence or constitution. The like ignorance as I haveof the real essence of this particular substance, I have also of thereal essence of all other natural ones: of which essences I confess Ihave no distinct ideas at all; and, I am apt to suppose, others, whenthey examine their own knowledge, will find in themselves, in this onepoint, the same sort of ignorance. 7. Because men know not the real essence of substances. Now, then, when men apply to this particular parcel of matter on myfinger a general name already in use, and denominate it GOLD, do theynot ordinarily, or are they not understood to give it that name, asbelonging to a particular species of bodies, having a real internalessence; by having of which essence this particular substance comes tobe of that species, and to be called by that name? If it be so, as it isplain it is, the name by which things are marked as having that essencemust be referred primarily to that essence; and consequently the idea towhich that name is given must be referred also to that essence, and beintended to represent it. Which essence, since they who so use the namesknow not, their ideas of substances must be all inadequate in thatrespect, as not containing in them that real essence which the mindintends they should. 8. Ideas of Substances, when regarded as Collections of their Qualities, are all inadequate. Secondly, those who, neglecting that useless supposition of unknownreal essences, whereby they are distinguished, endeavour to copy thesubstances that exist in the world, by putting together the ideas ofthose sensible qualities which are found co-existing in them, thoughthey come much nearer a likeness of them than those who imagine theyknow not what real specific essences: yet they arrive not at perfectlyadequate ideas of those substances they would thus copy into theirminds: nor do those copies exactly and fully contain all that is tobe found in their archetypes. Because those qualities and powers ofsubstances, whereof we make their complex ideas, are so many andvarious, that no man's complex idea contains them all. That our complexideas of substances do not contain in them ALL the simple ideas that areunited in the things themselves is evident, in that men do rarely putinto their complex idea of any substance all the simple ideas they doknow to exist in it. Because, endeavouring to make the signification oftheir names as clear and as little cumbersome as they can, they maketheir specific ideas of the sorts of substance, for the most part, ofa few of those simple ideas which are to be found in them: but thesehaving no original precedency, or right to be put in, and make thespecific idea, more than others that are left out, it is plain that boththese ways our ideas of substances are deficient and inadequate. Thesimple ideas whereof we make our complex ones of substances are all ofthem (bating only the figure and bulk of some sorts) powers; which beingrelations to other substances, we can never be sure that we know ALL thepowers that are in any one body, till we have tried what changes it isfitted to give to or receive from other substances in their several waysof application: which being impossible to be tried upon any one body, much less upon all, it is impossible we should have adequate ideas ofany substance made up of a collection of all its properties. 9. Their powers usually make up our complex ideas of substances. Whosoever first lighted on a parcel of that sort of substance we denoteby the word GOLD, could not rationally take the bulk and figure heobserved in that lump to depend on its real essence, or internalconstitution. Therefore those never went into his idea of that speciesof body; but its peculiar colour, perhaps, and weight, were the first heabstracted from it, to make the complex idea of that species. Which bothare but powers; the one to affect our eyes after such a manner, and toproduce in us that idea we call yellow; and the other to force upwardsany other body of equal bulk, they being put into a pair of equalscales, one against another. Another perhaps added to these the ideas offusibility and fixedness, two other passive powers, in relation to theoperation of fire upon it; another, its ductility and solubility in aquaregia, two other powers, relating to the operation of other bodies, inchanging its outward figure, or separation of it into insensible parts. These, or parts of these, put together, usually make the complex idea inmen's minds of that sort of body we call GOLD. 10. Substances have innumerable powers not contained in our complexideas of them. But no one who hath considered the properties of bodies in general, orthis sort in particular, can doubt that this, called GOLD, has infiniteother properties not contained in that complex idea. Some who haveexamined this species more accurately could, I believe, enumerate tentimes as many properties in gold, all of them as inseparable from itsinternal constitution, as its colour or weight: and it is probable, ifany one knew all the properties that are by divers men known of thismetal, there would be an hundred times as many ideas go to the complexidea of gold as any one man yet has in his; and yet perhaps that not bethe thousandth part of what is to be discovered in it. The changes thatthat one body is apt to receive, and make in other bodies, upon a dueapplication, exceeding far not only what we know, but what we are apt toimagine. Which will not appear so much a paradox to any one who will butconsider how far men are yet from knowing all the properties of thatone, no very compound figure, a triangle; though it be no small numberthat are already by mathematicians discovered of it. 11. Ideas of Substances, being got only by collecting their qualities, are all inadequate. So that all our complex ideas of substances are imperfect andinadequate. Which would be so also in mathematical figures, if we wereto have our complex ideas of them, only by collecting their propertiesin reference to other figures. How uncertain and imperfect would ourideas be of an ellipsis, if we had no other idea of it, but some few ofits properties? Whereas, having in our plain idea the WHOLE essenceof that figure, we from thence discover those properties, anddemonstratively see how they flow, and are inseparable from it. 12. Simple Ideas, [word in Greek], and adequate. Thus the mind has three sorts of abstract ideas or nominal essences: First, SIMPLE ideas, which are [word in Greek] or copies; but yetcertainly adequate. Because, being intended to express nothing but thepower in things to produce in the mind such a sensation, that sensation, when it is produced, cannot but be the effect of that power. So thepaper I write on, having the power in the light (I speak according tothe common notion of light) to produce in men the sensation which I callwhite, it cannot but be the effect of such a power in something withoutthe mind; since the mind has not the power to produce any such idea initself: and being meant for nothing else but the effect of such a powerthat simple idea is [* words missing] the sensation of white, in mymind, being the effect of that power which is in the paper to produceit, is perfectly adequate to that power; or else that power wouldproduce a different idea. 13. Ideas of Substances are Echthypa, and inadequate. Secondly, the COMPLEX ideas of SUBSTANCES are ectypes, copies too; butnot perfect ones, not adequate: which is very evident to the mind, inthat it plainly perceives, that whatever collection of simple ideas itmakes of any substance that exists, it cannot be sure that it exactlyanswers all that are in that substance. Since, not having tried allthe operations of all other substances upon it, and found all thealterations it would receive from, or cause in, other substances, itcannot have an exact adequate collection of all its active and passivecapacities; and so not have an adequate complex idea of the powers ofany substance existing, and its relations; which is that sort of complexidea of substances we have. And, after all, if we would have, andactually had, in our complex idea, an exact collection of all thesecondary qualities or powers of any substance, we should not yetthereby have an idea of the ESSENCE of that thing. For, since the powersor qualities that are observable by us are not the real essence of thatsubstance, but depend on it, and flow from it, any collection whatsoeverof these qualities cannot be the real essence of that thing. Whereby itis plain, that our ideas of substances are not adequate; are not whatthe mind intends them to be. Besides, a man has no idea of substance ingeneral, nor knows what substance is in itself. 14. Ideas of Modes and Relations are Archetypes, and cannot be adequate. Thirdly, COMPLEX ideas of MODES AND RELATIONS are originals, andarchetypes; are not copies, nor made after the pattern of any realexistence, to which the mind intends them to be conformable, and exactlyto answer. These being such collections of simple ideas that the minditself puts together, and such collections that each of them containsin it precisely all that the mind intends that it should, they arearchetypes and essences of modes that may exist; and so are designedonly for, and beling only to such modes as, when they do exist, have anexact conformity with those complex ideas The ideas, therefore, of modesand relations cannot but be adequate. CHAPTER XXXII. OF TRUE AND FALSE IDEAS. 1. Truth and Falsehood properly belong to Propositions, not to Ideas. Though truth and falsehood belong, in propriety of speech, only toPROPOSITIONS: yet IDEAS are oftentimes termed true or false (as whatwords are there that are not used with great latitude, and with somedeviation from their strict and proper significations?) Though I thinkthat when ideas themselves are termed true or false, there is stillsome secret or tacit proposition, which is the foundation of thatdenomination: as we shall see, if we examine the particular occasionswherein they come to be called true or false. In all which we shallfind some kind of affirmation or negation, which is the reason of thatdenomination. For our ideas, being nothing but bare APPEARANCES, orperceptions in our minds, cannot properly and simply in themselves besaid to be true or false, no more than a single name of anything can besaid to be true or false. 2. Ideas and words may be said to be true, inasmuch as they really areideas and words. Indeed both ideas and words may be said to be true, in a metaphysicalsense of the word truth; as all other things that any way exist aresaid to be true, i. E. Really to be such as they exist. Though in thingscalled true, even in that sense, there is perhaps a secret reference toour ideas, looked upon as the standards of that truth; which amounts toa mental proposition, though it be usually not taken notice of. 3. No Idea, as an Appearance in the Mind, either true or false. But it is not in that metaphysical sense of truth which we inquire here, when we examine, whether our ideas are capable of being true or false, but in the more ordinary acceptation of those words: and so I say thatthe ideas in our minds, being only so many perceptions or appearancesthere, none of them are false; the idea of a centaur having no morefalsehood in it when it appears in our minds, than the name centaur hasfalsehood in it, when it is pronounced by our mouths, or written onpaper. For truth or falsehood lying always in some affirmation ornegation, mental or verbal, our ideas are not capable, any of them, of being false, till the mind passes some judgment on them; that is, affirms or denies something of them. 4. Ideas referred to anything extraneous to them may be true or false. Whenever the mind refers any of its ideas to anything extraneous tothem, they are then capable to be called true or false. Because themind, in such a reference, makes a tacit supposition of their conformityto that thing; which supposition, as it happens to be true or false, so the ideas themselves come to be denominated. The most usual caseswherein this happens, are these following: 5. Other Men's Ideas; real Existence; and supposed real Essences, arewhat Men usually refer their Ideas to. First, when the mind supposes any idea it has CONFORMABLE to that inOTHER MEN'S MINDS, called by the same common name; v. G. When the mindintends or judges its ideas of justice, temperance, religion, to be thesame with what other men give those names to. Secondly, when the mind supposes any idea it has in itself to beCONFORMABLE to some REAL EXISTENCE. Thus the two ideas of a man and acentaur, supposed to be the ideas of real substances, are the one trueand the other false; the one having a conformity to what has reallyexisted, the other not. Thirdly, when the mind REFERS any of its ideasto that REAL constitution and ESSENCE of anything, whereon all itsproperties depend: and thus the greatest part, if not all our ideas ofsubstances, are false. 6. The cause of such Reference. These suppositions the mind is very apt tacitly to make concerning itsown ideas. But yet, if we will examine it, we shall find it is chiefly, if not only, concerning its ABSTRACT complex ideas. For the naturaltendency of the mind being towards knowledge; and finding that, if itshould proceed by and dwell upon only particular things, its progresswould be very slow, and its work endless; therefore, to shorten its wayto knowledge, and make each perception more comprehensive, the firstthing it does, as the foundation of the easier enlarging its knowledge, either by contemplation of the things themselves that it would know, orconference with others about them, is to bind them into bundles, andrank them so into sorts, that what knowledge it gets of any of them itmay thereby with assurance extend to all of that sort; and so advance bylarger steps in that which is its great business, knowledge. This, asI have elsewhere shown, is the reason why we collect things undercomprehensive ideas, with names annexed to them, into genera andspecies; i. E. Into kinds and sorts. 7. Names of things supposed to carry in them knowledge of theiressences. If therefore we will warily attend to the motions of the mind, andobserve what course it usually takes in its way to knowledge, we shall Ithink find, that the mind having got an idea which it thinks it may haveuse of either in contemplation or discourse, the first thing it doesis to abstract it, and then get a name to it; ans so lay it up in itsstorehouse, the memory, as containing the essence of a sort of things, of which that name is always to be the mark. Hence it is, that we mayoften observe that, when any one sees a new thing of a kind that heknows not, he presently asks, what it is; meaning by that inquirynothing but the name. As if the name carried with it the knowledge ofthe species, or the essence of it; whereof it is indeed used as themark, and is generally supposed annexed to it. 8. How men suppose that their ideas must correspond to things, and tothe customary meanings of names. But this ABSTRACT IDEA, being something in the mind, between the thingthat exists, and the name that is given to it; it is in our ideasthat both the rightness of our knowledge, and the propriety andintelligibleness of our speaking, consists. And hence it is that men areso forward to suppose, that the abstract ideas they have in their mindsare such as agree to the things existing without them, to which they arereferred; and are the same also to which the names they give them do bythe use and propriety of that language belong. For without this doubleconformity of their ideas, they find they should both think amiss ofthings in themselves, and talk of them unintelligibly to others. 9. Simple Ideas may be false, in reference to others of the same Name, but are least liable to be so. First, then, I say, that when the truth of our ideas is judged of by theconformity they have to the ideas which other men have, and commonlysignify by the same name, they may be any of them false. But yet SIMPLEIDEAS are least of all liable to be so mistaken. Because a man, by hissenses and every day's observation, may easily satisfy himself what thesimple ideas are which their several names that are in common use standfor; they being but few in number, and such as, if he doubts or mistakesin, he may easily rectify by the objects they are to be found in. Therefore it is seldom that any one mistakes in his names of simpleideas, or applies the name red to the idea green, or the name sweet tothe idea bitter: much less are men apt to confound the names of ideasbelonging to different senses, and call a colour by the name of a taste, &c. Whereby it is evident that the simple ideas they call by any nameare commonly the same that others have and mean when they use the samenames. 10. Ideas of mixed Modes most liable to be false in this Sense. Complex ideas are much more liable to be false in this respect; andthe complex ideas of MIXED MODES, much more than those of substances;because in substances (especially those which the common and unborrowednames of any language are applied to) some remarkable sensiblequalities, serving ordinarily to distinguish one sort from another, easily preserve those who take any care in the use of their words, fromapplying them to sorts of substances to which they do not at all belong. But in mixed modes we are much more uncertain; it being not so easy todetermine of several actions, whether they are to be called JUSTICE orCRUELTY, LIBERALITY or PRODIGALITY. And so in referring our ideas tothose of other men, called by the same names, ours may be false; and theidea in our minds, which we express by the word JUSTICE, may perhaps bethat which ought to have another name. 11. Or at least to be thought false. But whether or no our ideas of mixed modes are more liable than any sortto be different from those of other men, which are marked by the samenames, this at least is certain. That this sort of falsehood is muchmore familiarly attributed to our ideas of mixed modes than to anyother. When a man is thought to have a false idea of JUSTICE, orGRATITUDE, or GLORY, it is for no other reason, but that his agrees notwith the ideas which each of those names are the signs of in other men. 12. And why. The reason whereof seems to me to be this: That the abstract ideasof mixed modes, being men's voluntary combinations of such a precisecollection of simple ideas, and so the essence of each species beingmade by men alone, whereof we have no other sensible standard existinganywhere but the name itself, or the definition of that name; we havingnothing else to refer these our ideas of mixed modes to, as a standardto which we would conform them, but the ideas of those who are thoughtto use those names in their most proper significations; and, so as ourideas conform or differ from THEM, they pass for true or false. And thusmuch concerning the truth and falsehood of our ideas, in reference totheir names. 13. As referred to Real Existence, none of our Ideas can be false butthose of Substances. Secondly, as to the truth and falsehood of our ideas, in reference tothe real existence of things. When that is made the standard of theirtruth, none of them can be termed false but only our complex ideas ofsubstances. 14. First, Simple Ideas in this Sense not false and why. First, our simple ideas, being barely such perceptions as God has fittedus to receive, and given power to external objects to produce in us byestablished laws and ways, suitable to his wisdom and goodness, thoughincomprehensible to us, their truth consists in nothing else but in suchappearances as are produced in us, and must be suitable to those powershe has placed in external objects or else they could not be produced inus: and thus answering those powers, they are what they should be, trueideas. Nor do they become liable to any imputation of falsehood, if themind (as in most men I believe it does) judges these ideas to be in thethings themselves. For God in his wisdom having set them as marks ofdistinction in things, whereby we may be able to discern one thing fromanother, and so choose any of them for our uses as we have occasion; italters not the nature of our simple idea, whether we think that the ideaof blue be in the violet itself, or in our mind only; and only the powerof producing it by the texture of its parts, reflecting the particlesof light after a certain manner, to be in the violet itself. For thattexture in the object, by a regular and constant operation producing thesame idea of blue in us, it serves us to distinguish, by our eyes, thatfrom any other thing; whether that distinguishing mark, as it is reallyin the violet, be only a peculiar texture of parts, or else that verycolour, the idea whereof (which is in us) is the exact resemblance. Andit is equally from that appearance to be denominated blue, whether it bethat real colour, or only a peculiar texture in it, that causes in usthat idea: since the name, BLUE, notes properly nothing but that mark ofdistinction that is in a violet, discernible only by our eyes, whateverit consists in; that being beyond our capacities distinctly to know, andperhaps would be of less use to us, if we had faculties to discern. 15. Though one Man's Idea of Blue should be different from another's. Neither would it carry any imputation of falsehood to our simple ideas, if by the different structure of our organs it were so ordered, that THESAME OBJECT SHOULD PRODUCE IN SEVERAL MEN'S MINDS DIFFERENT IDEAS at thesame time; v. G. If the idea that a violet produced in one man's mind byhis eyes were the same that a marigold produced in another man's, andvice versa. For, since this could never be known, because one man's mindcould not pass into another man's body, to perceive what appearanceswere produced by those organs; neither the ideas hereby, nor the names, would be at all confounded, or any falsehood be in either. For allthings that had the texture of a violet, producing constantly the ideathat he called blue, and those which had the texture of a marigold, producing constantly the idea which he as constantly called yellow, whatever those appearances were in his mind; he would be able asregularly to distinguish things for his use by those appearances, andunderstand and signify those distinctions marked by the name blue andyellow, as if the appearances or ideas in his mind received from thosetwo flowers were exactly the same with the ideas in other men's minds. I am nevertheless very apt to think that the sensible ideas produced byany object in different men's minds, are most commonly very near andundiscernibly alike. For which opinion, I think, there might be manyreasons offered: but that being besides my present business, I shallnot trouble my reader with them; but only mind him, that the contrarysupposition, if it could be proved, is of little use, either for theimprovement of our knowledge, or conveniency of life, and so we need nottrouble ourselves to examine it. 16. Simple Ideas can none of them be false in respect of real existence. From what has been said concerning our simple ideas, I think it evidentthat our simple ideas can none of them be false in respect of thingsexisting without us. For the truth of these appearances or perceptionsin our minds consisting, as has been said, only in their beinganswerable to the powers in external objects to produce by our sensessuch appearances in us, and each of them being in the mind such asit is, suitable to the power that produced it, and which alone itrepresents, it cannot upon that account, or as referred to such apattern, be false. Blue and yellow, bitter or sweet, can never be falseideas: these perceptions in the mind are just such as they are there, answering the powers appointed by God to produce them; and so aretruly what they are, and are intended to be. Indeed the names may bemisapplied, but that in this respect makes no falsehood in the ideas; asif a man ignorant in the English tongue should call purple scarlet. 17. Secondly, Modes not false cannot be false in reference to essencesof things. Secondly, neither can our complex ideas of modes, in reference to theessence of anything really existing, be false; because whatever complexideas I have of any mode, it hath no reference to any pattern existing, and made by nature; it is not supposed to contain in it any other ideasthan what it hath; nor to represent anything but such a complication ofideas as it does. Thus, when I have the idea of such an action of a manwho forbears to afford himself such meat, drink, and clothing, and otherconveniences of life, as his riches and estate will be sufficient tosupply and his station requires, I have no false idea; but such an oneas represents an action, either as I find or imagine it, and so iscapable of neither truth nor falsehood. But when I give the nameFRUGALITY or VIRTUE to this action, then it may be called a false idea, if thereby it be supposed to agree with that idea to which, in proprietyof speech, the name of frugality doth belong, or to be conformable tothat law which is the standard of virtue and vice. 18. Thirdly, Ideas of Substances may be false in reference to existingthings. Thirdly, our complex ideas of substances, being all referred to patternsin things themselves, may be false. That they are all false, when lookedupon as the representations of the unknown essences of things, is soevident that there needs nothing to be said of it. I shall thereforepass over that chimerical supposition, and consider them as collectionsof simple ideas in the mind, taken from combinations of simple ideasexisting together constantly in things, of which patterns they are thesupposed copies; and in this reference of them to the existence ofthings, they are false ideas:--(1) When they put together simple ideas, which in the real existence of things have no union; as when to theshape and size that exist together in a horse, is joined in the samecomplex idea the power of barking like a dog: which three ideas, howeverput together into one in the mind, were never united in nature; andthis, therefore, may be called a false idea of a horse. (2) Ideas ofsubstances are, in this respect, also false, when, from any collectionof simple ideas that do always exist together, there is separated, by adirect negation, any other simple idea which is constantly joinedwith them. Thus, if to extension, solidity, fusibility, the peculiarweightiness, and yellow colour of gold, any one join in his thoughts thenegation of a greater degree of fixedness than is in lead or copper, hemay be said to have a false complex idea, as well as when he joins tothose other simple ones the idea of perfect absolute fixedness. Foreither way, the complex idea of gold being made up of such simple onesas have no union in nature, may be termed false. But, if he leavesout of this his complex idea that of fixedness quite, without eitheractually joining to or separating it from the rest in his mind, it is, Ithink, to be looked on as an inadequate and imperfect idea, rather thana false one; since, though it contains not all the simple ideas that areunited in nature, yet it puts none together but what do really existtogether. 19. Truth or Falsehood always supposes Affirmation or Negation. Though, in compliance with the ordinary way of speaking, I have shown inwhat sense and upon what ground our ideas may be sometimes called trueor false; yet if we will look a little nearer into the matter, in allcases where any idea is called true or false, it is from some JUDGMENTthat the mind makes, or is supposed to make, that is true or false. Fortruth or falsehood, being never without some affirmation or negation, express or tacit, it is not to be found but where signs are joined orseparated, according to the agreement or disagreement of the things theystand for. The signs we chiefly use are either ideas or words; wherewithwe make either mental or verbal propositions. Truth lies in so joiningor separating these representatives, as the things they stand for do inthemselves agree or disagree; and falsehood in the contrary, as shall bemore fully shown hereafter. 20. Ideas in themselves neither true nor false. Any idea, then, which we have in our minds, whether conformable or notto the existence of things, or to any idea in the minds of othermen, cannot properly for this alone be called false. For theserepresentations, if they have nothing in them but what is reallyexisting in things without, cannot be thought false, being exactrepresentations of something: nor yet if they have anything in themdiffering from the reality of things, can they properly be said to befalse representations, or ideas of things they do not represent. But themistake and falsehood is: 21. But are false--1. When judged agreeable to another Man's Idea, without being so. First, when the mind having any idea, it JUDGES and concludes it thesame that is in other men's minds, signified by the same name; or thatit is conformable to the ordinary received signification or definitionof that word, when indeed it is not: which is the most usual mistake inmixed modes, though other ideas also are liable to it. 22. Secondly, When judged to agree to real Existence, when they do not. (2) When it having a complex idea made up of such a collection of simpleones as nature never puts together, it JUDGES it to agree to a speciesof creatures really existing; as when it joins the weight of tin to thecolour, fusibility, and fixedness of gold. 23. Thirdly, When judged adequate, without being so. (3) When in its complex idea it has united a certain number of simpleideas that do really exist together in some sort of creatures, but hasalso left out others as much inseparable, it JUDGES this to be a perfectcomplete idea of a sort of things which really it is not; v. G. Havingjoined the ideas of substance, yellow, malleable, most heavy, andfusible, it takes that complex idea to be the complete idea of gold, when yet its peculiar fixedness, and solubility in AQUA REGIA, are asinseparable from those other ideas, or qualities, of that body as theyare one from another. 24. Fourthly, When judged to represent the real Essence. (4) The mistake is yet greater, when I JUDGE that this complex ideacontains in it the real essence of any body existing; when at leastit contains but some few of those properties which flow from its realessence and constitution. I say only some few of those properties; forthose properties consisting mostly in the active and passive powers ithas in reference to other things, all that are vulgarly known of any onebody, of which the complex idea of that kind of things is usually made, are but a very few, in comparison of what a man that has several waystried and examined it knows of that one sort of things; and all that themost expert man knows are but a few, in comparison of what are reallyin that body, and depend on its internal or essential constitution. Theessence of a triangle lies in a very little compass, consists in a veryfew ideas: three lines including a space make up that essence: but theproperties that flow from this essence are more than can be easily knownor enumerated. So I imagine it is in substances; their real essences liein a little compass, though the properties flowing from that internalconstitution are endless. 25. Ideas, when called false. To conclude, a man having no notion of anything without him, but by theidea he has of it in his mind, (which idea he has a power to call bywhat name he pleases, ) he may indeed make an idea neither answering thereason of things, nor agreeing to the idea commonly signified by otherpeople's words; but cannot make a wrong or false idea of a thing whichis no otherwise known to him but by the idea he has of it: v. G. When Iframe an idea of the legs, arms, and body of a man, and join to this ahorse's head and neck, I do not make a false idea of anything; becauseit represents nothing without me. But when I call it a MAN or TARTAR, and imagine it to represent some real being without me, or to be thesame idea that others call by the same name; in either of these cases Imay err. And upon this account it is that it comes to be termed a falseidea; though indeed the falsehood lies not in the idea, but in thattacit mental proposition, wherein a conformity and resemblance isattributed to it which it has not. But yet, if, having framed such anidea in my mind, without thinking either that existence, or the name MANor TARTAR, belongs to it, I will call it MAN or TARTAR, I may be justlythought fantastical in the naming; but not erroneous in my judgment; northe idea any way false. 26. More properly to be called right or wrong. Upon the whole matter, I think that our ideas, as they are consideredby the mind, --either in reference to the proper signification of theirnames; or in reference to the reality of things, --may very fitly becalled RIGHT or WRONG ideas, according as they agree or disagree tothose patterns to which they are referred. But if any one had rathercall them true or false, it is fit he use a liberty, which every onehas, to call things by those names he thinks best; though, in proprietyof speech, TRUTH or FALSEHOOD will, I think, scarce agree to them, but as they, some way or other, virtually contain in them some mentalproposition. The ideas that are in a man's mind, simply considered, cannot be wrong; unless complex ones, wherein inconsistent parts arejumbled together. All other ideas are in themselves right, and theknowledge about them right and true knowledge; but when we come to referthem to anything, as to their patterns and archetypes then they arecapable of being wrong, as far as they disagree with such archetypes. CHAPTER XXXIII. OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 1. Something unreasonable in most Men. There is scarce any one that does not observe something that seemsodd to him, and is in itself really extravagant, in the opinions, reasonings, and actions of other men. The least flaw of this kind, if atall different from his own, every one is quick-sighted enough to espy inanother, and will by the authority of reason forwardly condemn; thoughhe be guilty of much greater unreasonableness in his own tenets andconduct, which he never perceives, and will very hardly, if at all, beconvinced of. 2. Not wholly from Self-love. This proceeds not wholly from self-love, though that has often a greathand in it. Men of fair minds, and not given up to the overweening ofself-flattery, are frequently guilty of it; and in many cases one withamazement hears the arguings, and is astonished at the obstinacy of aworthy man, who yields not to the evidence of reason, though laid beforehim as clear as daylight. 3. Not from Education. This sort of unreasonableness is usually imputed to education andprejudice, and for the most part truly enough, though that reaches notthe bottom of the disease, nor shows distinctly enough whence it rises, or wherein it lies. Education is often rightly assigned for the cause, and prejudice is a good general name for the thing itself: but yet, Ithink, he ought to look a little further, who would trace this sortof madness to the root it springs from, and so explain it, as to showwhence this flaw has its original in very sober and rational minds, andwherein it consists. 4. A Degree of Madness found in most Men. I shall be pardoned for calling it by so harsh a name as madness, whenit is considered that opposition to reason deserves that name, and isreally madness; and there is scarce a man so free from it, but that ifhe should always, on all occasions, argue or do as in some cases heconstantly does, would not be thought fitter for Bedlam than civilconversation. I do not here mean when he is under the power of an unrulypassion, but in the steady calm course of his life. That which will yetmore apologize for this harsh name, and ungrateful imputation on thegreatest part of mankind, is, that, inquiring a little by the bye intothe nature of madness, (b. Ii. Ch. Xi. , Section 13, ) I found it tospring from the very same root, and to depend on the very same cause weare here speaking of. This consideration of the thing itself, at a timewhen I thought not I the least on the subject which I am now treatingof, suggested it to me. And if this be a weakness to which all men areso liable, if this be a taint which so universally infects mankind, thegreater care should be taken to lay it open under its due name, therebyto excite the greater care in its prevention and cure. 5. From a wrong Connexion of Ideas. Some of our ideas have a NATURAL correspondence and connexion one withanother: it is the office and excellency of our reason to trace these, and hold them together in that union and correspondence which is foundedin their peculiar beings. Besides this, there is another connexion ofideas wholly owing to CHANCE or CUSTOM. Ideas that in themselves are notall of kin, come to be so united in some men's minds, that it is veryhard to separate them; they always keep in company, and the one nosooner at any time comes into the understanding, but its associateappears with it; and if they are more than two which are thus united, the whole gang, always inseparable, show themselves together. 6. This Connexion made by custom. This strong combination of ideas, not allied by nature, the mind makesin itself either voluntarily or by chance; and hence it comes indifferent men to be very different, according to their differentinclinations, education, interests, &c. CUSTOM settles habits ofthinking in the understanding, as well as of determining in the will, and of motions in the body: all which seems to be but trains of motionsin the animal spirits, which, once set a going, continue in the samesteps they have been used to; which, by often treading, are worn into asmooth path, and the motion in it becomes easy, and as it were natural. As far as we can comprehend thinking, thus ideas seem to be producedin our minds; or, if they are not, this may serve to explain theirfollowing one another in an habitual train, when once they are put intotheir track, as well as it does to explain such motions of the body. Amusician used to any tune will find that, let it but once begin in hishead, the ideas of the several notes of it will follow one anotherorderly in his understanding, without any care or attention, asregularly as his fingers move orderly over the keys of the organ to playout the tune he has begun, though his unattentive thoughts be elsewherea wandering. Whether the natural cause of these ideas, as well as ofthat regular dancing of his fingers be the motion of his animal spirits, I will not determine, how probable soever, by this instance, it appearsto be so: but this may help us a little to conceive of intellectualhabits, and of the tying together of ideas. 7. Some Antipathies an Effect of it. That there are such associations of them made by custom, in the minds ofmost men, I think nobody will question, who has well considered himselfor others; and to this, perhaps, might be justly attributed most of thesympathies and antipathies observable in men, which work as strongly, and produce as regular effects as if they were natural; and aretherefore called so, though they at first had no other original but theaccidental connexion of two ideas, which either the strength of thefirst impression, or future indulgence so united, that they alwaysafterwards kept company together in that man's mind, as if they were butone idea. I say most of the antipathies, I do not say all; for some ofthem are truly natural, depend upon our original constitution, and areborn with us; but a great part of those which are counted natural, wouldhave been known to be from unheeded, though perhaps early, impressions, or wanton fancies at first, which would have been acknowledged theoriginal of them, if they had been warily observed. A grown personsurfeiting with honey no sooner hears the name of it, but his fancyimmediately carries sickness and qualms to his stomach, and he cannotbear the very idea of it; other ideas of dislike, and sickness, andvomiting, presently accompany it, and he is disturbed; but he knowsfrom whence to date this weakness, and can tell how he got thisindisposition. Had this happened to him by an over-dose of honey whena child, all the same effects would have followed; but the cause wouldhave been mistaken, and the antipathy counted natural. 8. Influence of association to be watched educating young children. I mention this, not out of any great necessity there is in this presentargument to distinguish nicely between natural and acquired antipathies;but I take notice of it for another purpose, viz. That those who havechildren, or the charge of their education, would think it worth theirwhile diligently to watch, and carefully to prevent the undue connexionof ideas in the minds of young people. This is the time most susceptibleof lasting impressions; and though those relating to the health of thebody are by discreet people minded and fenced against, yet I am aptto doubt, that those which relate more peculiarly to the mind, andterminate in the understanding or passions, have been much lessheeded than the thing deserves: nay, those relating purely to theunderstanding, have, as I suspect, been by most men wholly overlooked. 9. Wrong connexion of ideas a great Cause of Errors. This wrong connexion in our minds of ideas in themselves loose andindependent of one another, has such an influence, and is of so greatforce to set us awry in our actions, as well moral as natural, passions, reasonings, and notions themselves, that perhaps there is not any onething that deserves more to be looked after. 10. As instance. The ideas of goblins and sprites have really no more to do with darknessthan light: yet let but a foolish maid inculcate these often on the mindof a child, and raise them there together, possibly he shall never beable to separate them again so long as he lives, but darkness shall everafterwards bring with it those frightful ideas, and they shall be sojoined, that he can no more bear the one than the other. 11. Another instance. A man receives a sensible injury from another, thinks on the man andthat action over and over, and by ruminating on them strongly, or much, in his mind, so cements those two ideas together, that he makes themalmost one; never thinks on the man, but the pain and displeasure hesuffered comes into his mind with it, so that he scarce distinguishesthem, but has as much an aversion for the one as the other. Thus hatredsare often begotten from slight and innocent occasions, and quarrelspropagated and continued in the world. 12. A third instance. A man has suffered pain or sickness in any place; he saw his frienddie in such a room: though these have in nature nothing to do one withanother, yet when the idea of the place occurs to his mind, it brings(the impression being once made) that of the pain and displeasure withit: he confounds them in his mind, and can as little bear the one as theother. 13. Why Time cures some Disorders in the Mind, which Reason cannot cure. When this combination is settled, and while it lasts, it is not in thepower of reason to help us, and relieve us from the effects of it. Ideasin our minds, when they are there, will operate according to theirnatures and circumstances. And here we see the cause why time curescertain affections, which reason, though in the right, and allowed to beso, has not power over, nor is able against them to prevail with thosewho are apt to hearken to it in other cases. The death of a child thatwas the daily delight of its mother's eyes, and joy of her soul, rendsfrom her heart the whole comfort of her life, and gives her all thetorment imaginable: use the consolations of reason in this case, andyou were as good preach ease to one on the rack, and hope to allay, byrational discourses, the pain of his joints tearing asunder. Till timehas by disuse separated the sense of that enjoyment and its loss, fromthe idea of the child returning to her memory, all representations, though ever so reasonable, are in vain; and therefore some in whom theunion between these ideas is never dissolved, spend their lives inmourning, and carry an incurable sorrow to their graves. 14. Another instance of the Effect of the Association of Ideas. A friend of mine knew one perfectly cured of madness by a very harsh andoffensive operation. The gentleman who was thus recovered, with greatsense of gratitude and acknowledgment owned the cure all his lifeafter, as the greatest obligation he could have received; but, whatevergratitude and reason suggested to him, he could never bear the sight ofthe operator: that image brought back with it the idea of that agonywhich he suffered from his hands, which was too mighty and intolerablefor him to endure. 15. More instances. Many children, imputing the pain they endured at school to their booksthey were corrected for, so join those ideas together, that a bookbecomes their aversion, and they are never reconciled to the study anduse of them all their lives after; and thus reading becomes a torment tothem, which otherwise possibly they might have made the great pleasureof their lives. There are rooms convenient enough, that some men cannotstudy in, and fashions of vessels, which, though ever so clean andcommodious, they cannot drink out of, and that by reason of someaccidental ideas which are annexed to them, and make them offensive; andwho is there that hath not observed some man to flag at the appearance, or in the company of some certain person not otherwise superior to him, but because, having once on some occasion got the ascendant, the idea ofauthority and distance goes along with that of the person, and he thathas been thus subjected, is not able to separate them. 16. A curious instance. Instances of this kind are so plentiful everywhere, that if I add onemore, it is only for the pleasant oddness of it. It is of a younggentleman, who, having learnt to dance, and that to great perfection, there happened to stand an old trunk in the room where he learnt. Theidea of this remarkable piece of household stuff had so mixed itselfwith the turns and steps of all his dances, that though in that chamberhe could dance excellently well, yet it was only whilst that trunk wasthere; nor could he perform well in any other place, unless that or somesuch other trunk had its due position in the room. If this story shallbe suspected to be dressed up with some comical circumstances, a littlebeyond precise nature, I answer for myself that I had it some yearssince from a very sober and worthy man, upon his own knowledge, as Ireport it; and I dare say there are very few inquisitive persons whoread this, who have not met with accounts, if not examples, of thisnature, that may parallel, or at least justify this. 17. Influence of Association on intellectual Habits. Intellectual habits and defects this way contracted, are not lessfrequent and powerful, though less observed. Let the ideas of being andmatter be strongly joined, either by education or much thought; whilstthese are still combined in the mind, what notions, what reasonings, will there be about separate spirits? Let custom from the very childhoodhave joined figure and shape to the idea of God, and what absurditieswill that mind be liable to about the Deity? Let the idea ofinfallibility be inseparably joined to any person, and these twoconstantly together possess the mind; and then one body in two places atonce, shall unexamined be swallowed for a certain truth, by an implicitfaith, whenever that imagined infallible person dictates and demandsassent without inquiry. 18. Observable in the opposition between different Sects of philosophyand of religion. Some such wrong and unnatural combinations of ideas will be found toestablish the irreconcilable opposition between different sects ofphilosophy and religion; for we cannot imagine every one of theirfollowers to impose wilfully on himself, and knowingly refuse truthoffered by plain reason. Interest, though it does a great deal inthe case, yet cannot be thought to work whole societies of men to souniversal a perverseness, as that every one of them to a man shouldknowingly maintain falsehood: some at least must be allowed to do whatall pretend to, i. E. To pursue truth sincerely; and therefore there mustbe something that blinds their understandings, and makes them not seethe falsehood of what they embrace for real truth. That which thuscaptivates their reasons, and leads men of sincerity blindfold fromcommon sense, will, when examined, be found to be what we are speakingof: some independent ideas, of no alliance to one another, are, byeducation, custom, and the constant din of their party, so coupled intheir minds, that they always appear there together; and they can nomore separate them in their thoughts than if they were but one idea, and they operate as if they were so. This gives sense to jargon, demonstration to absurdities, and consistency to nonsense, and is thefoundation of the greatest, I had almost said of all the errors inthe world; or, if it does not reach so far, it is at least the mostdangerous one, since, so far as it obtains, it hinders men from seeingand examining. When two things, in themselves disjoined, appear to thesight constantly united; if the eye sees these things riveted which areloose, where will you begin to rectify the mistakes that follow in twoideas that they have been accustomed so to join in their minds as tosubstitute one for the other, and, as I am apt to think, often withoutperceiving it themselves? This, whilst they are under the deceit ofit, makes them incapable of conviction, and they applaud themselves aszealous champions for truth, when indeed they are contending for error;and the confusion of two different ideas, which a customary connexionof them in their minds hath to them made in effect but one, fills theirheads with false views, and their reasonings with false consequences. 19. Conclusion. Having thus given an account of the original, sorts, and extent of ourIDEAS, with several other considerations about these (I know not whetherI may say) instruments, or materials of our knowledge, the method I atfirst proposed to myself would now require that I should immediatelyproceed to show, what use the understanding makes of them, and whatKNOWLEDGE we have by them. This was that which, in the first generalview I had of this subject, was all that I thought I should have to do:but, upon a nearer approach, I find that there is so close a connexionbetween ideas and WORDS, and our abstract ideas and general words haveso constant a relation one to another, that it is impossible tospeak clearly and distinctly of our knowledge, which all consistsin propositions, without considering, first, the nature, use, andsignification of Language; which, therefore, must be the business of thenext Book. END OF VOLUME I